A piece about the exhibition in The Scotsman online.
On the buses.
Today has been a day of buses. Lots. And journeys that shouldn’t have taken long but did.And a bus that broke down. So I watch the people. A man who tells me he is a retired confectioner, dresses in a full length camel coat, Oxfords and a cravat.He says he’s been to see his Councillor about the buses to complain, I don’t know about what. I sit next to an elderly woman who refuses to look at me, pretends I am not there. Her hands are age spotted and transparent. Her bottom lip juts out, her pearl earrings jostle . There’s a woman with coral pink lips. She phones someone to tell them the bus has broken down. She says ‘Don’t laugh, its not funny’.She plugs in her headphones and sings along to her songs silently, her head swaying with every intonation, her face relaying the emotion.She gazes out of the window. The bus empties, but I stay sitting next to the elderly woman, partly to annoy her. ‘What a prick’, growls a man behind. A woman says on the phone ‘ So have you been to the Doctors yet ? Aye, well I told you to soak them in salt water…..’ Tired people, want to get home people. Man gets on wearing a cowboy hat and moustache. The smell of beer wafts along the aisle and he gets into conversation with someone about Roland Garros, the French Open tennis venue telling him just how special it is. His words are as fluid as his gesticulations. He stands and asks if we all like fish. I ring the bell. My stop.
I have now finished the final work for Montrose. Paintings, drawings, film, soundtrack and text complete. So its a glass of Talisker and a large Cuban tonight. Thankyou to everyone who has helped me do this and to everyone who has read my ramblings and kept me company with this project. Much appreciated, and maybe you might like Montrose as much as I do. Come and take a look , oh and see the exhibition while you’re about it.
Wall Projects – Montrose – June 4th – July 2nd.
Sketch of Buchan and Coull , Joiners in Montrose. Acrylic and ink on paper.
Ink on paper.
Sketch of Balcormo Mill. Visited Kirkcaldy art gallery and museum yesterday. In one of the galleries a man sat looking at a painting by David Scott. He took out a notebook and refered to it. He returned to looking at the painting for a a full twenty minutes, intently, quietly. I asked him what he liked about the painting of industrial Kirkcaldy, and he said it was the energy of the paint. He said he came in often to seek out this particular painting, unsure if it will be here as they change the paintings on view regularly. I was struck by his commitment to this artwork and the fact that it mattered to him.
At the Mill this morning the farmer stopped by to ask what I was drawing and he told me there is a box hidden in the wall next to the barn. I go and see for myself. Rebecca aged 6 has sequestered a tupperware box of hidden treasures – a dinosaur, a fairy and golden jewels. I remember doing much the same when I was about the same age leaving a message in the tin telling the person who might find it who I was and why these objects were precious to me. I imagine the tin has long since corroded and its contents decayed, but its the idea that whether its a painting or a fairy in a tiny pink tutu, certain objects harbour a significance whatever our age.