This is the first post of a blog stemming from a sailing expedition to Svalbard in October 2012.

The artist gratefully acknowledges financial assistance for the expedition from Creative Scotland.

The first thing that hits you is the light; flat white light, at once translucent but opaque, as if the northern sun has been diffused by many filters in the atmosphere before it finally reaches the land. Soft light, no edges, yet as clear as light can be.

It's the end of September, I'm north of the Arctic Circle sailing on a Tall Ship and the sun is going down. Our group of twenty or so artists motor down and out of the fjord from Longyearbyen into the never-ending sunset. Picture book stuff. Not a breath of wind - a kindly introduction to the Arctic Ocean. I wonder what weather will hit us later on. I also wonder how Mr. Longyear felt as he sailed up the fjord from America at the start of the 20th century. Did he appreciate the majesty and beauty of the snow clad mountains,  the clarity of the light, the taste of the cold clear air? (I hope so). Or was he thinking only of the challenges of coal mining and the money to be made?

John Munroe Longyear certainly helped form the surreal landscape that we see there today.  Huge black war-of-the-worlds structures dissecting the vast white landscape. Apart from the mountains and glaciers, they're the most prominent features in Svalbard, unsettling stark monuments to the years of Arctic industrial pioneering. And yet there's a beauty of sorts there too; the contrast between steel and snow, black and white, man-made and natural creating a poetic and powerful dialogue.

I wrote myself a short essay before the start of the trip, imagining the land and seascapes from the water, the colours, the rock forms on leaving the fjord. It wasn't like this. In my mind the fjord was narrower and the mountains taller and closer together, the light sharper, shadows stronger. I certainly hadn't anticipated the dominance of the man-made coal mines. I wonder what other surprises I'll find.

Svalbard is heading towards Dark Time, mørketiden, the period on the calendar when the sun dips below the horizon and doesn't rise again until late January. Standing on deck in the twilight, I look forward to watching the days grow shorter.

This project was supported by Creative Scotland.