Aran Walls

On my first trip to the Aran Islands, I was struck by the dense, gray landscape of rock. The slabs of limestone under my feet gave way to crowded rows of stone walls receding into the distance. Slowly, details began to emerge: clusters of houses nestled within the maze of walls; small, green fields enclosed by stone; ancient structures rising above the landscape; and eventually, the unique arrangement of stones that comprised each wall. I was awestruck, and then obsessed.

The walls spoke to me of time. Ancient Bronze Age stone forts revealed the early craft of building dry-laid stone walls. Successive generations of inhabitants continued this tradition, arranging stones to create the walls that eventually covered much of the islands. This ongoing cycle of building and rebuilding connects the original craftsmen of long ago with future generations who will continue to maintain and construct these walls.

The walls also spoke of the fragile relationship between people and nature, documenting the presence and perseverance of those who made their homes on the islands. In a challenging environment, the inhabitants developed methods to create and maintain land capable of producing food. To make the land arable, they cleared stones from the terrain and enriched the thin layer of soil with seaweed and sand. The cleared stones became walls that protected the fragile fields from wind and storms. Using the very substance of the landscape, people imposed their own imprint upon it.

I was intrigued by the relationship between part and whole, a pattern that repeated itself throughout the islands. In a larger sense, each island was itself a single stone, divided into interlocking parcels of land defined by walls. The limestone pavement covering the islands was similarly divided into individual blocks, separated by deep fissures running across the surface. And finally, the walls themselves were composed of countless individual stones, each an integral part of the structure into which it was placed.

I knew I would have to return one day to spend more time exploring the islands on my own, walking the old, narrow lanes and pathways, closely observing the walls, and reflecting on how the islands, the fields, the walls, and the people are all interconnected. In making these photographs, I’ve tried to convey what I saw in my mind’s eye and what I felt as I experienced this remarkable landscape.