Art Scandal: Glasgow School of Art - Esther

Charles Rennie Mackintosh, Glasgow School of Art: north elevation (elevation to Renfrew Street) no. 9, 1907 © The Hunterian, University of Glasgow 2016.

Charles Rennie Mackintosh is the first ever artist whose name I knew. This is because my architect Dad has always been a fan. He used to call him “Che” for short. He’d also refer to him as “Some Boy” which my brother & I knew meant "he was the best." Nicknames were reserved for the loved.

In Scotland, CRM’s identity is ubiquitous these days, his beautiful & sensitive work often reduced to tacky stencils on mugs & “celebration” before appreciation. These days he’s a “brand.” Perhaps we should be grateful for his accessibility.

Back then in my childhood though, he still seemed odd & exotic & I prefer to hold on to that perception of him, a man of exceptional & peculiar talent & vision in a range of media & forms. As an adult & artist I see him for the great he really was, his influence more far-reaching than I ever knew; he was particularly revered in Europe & I recall Dad hinted at this when I discovered the Secessionists. 

It’s incredibly unfashionable to say so – particularly now - but to my uneducated eye I first thought CRM’s Glasgow School of Art design was lumpy & squat. Dumped halfway up a hill in the busy central shopping area of Glasgow, it appeared at a glance to be unnecessarily flat & incongruously placed. But as usual, the details, the architectural style added to function & artistic ideas truly made the building. The space between the lines. Mackintosh’s Art Nouveau & Arts & Crafts values were maintained throughout: the vast windows to allow in maximum light, the extensive metalwork details, the use of wood in all areas, the Japanese influence in the long west-facing windows, the brass plates on the doors, the wooden panelling, the weather vane, the light fittings, the clocks, the furniture. It was all him.

There was shock, horror & dismay at the fire of 2014. Central to Mackintosh’s masterwork was the library, renowned in its own right for its interior design innovation; a fire apparently started through the use of an aerosol can had destroyed it. The fire service was widely & rightly praised for its clever & effective strategic management of the fire in exceptionally difficult circumstances. But the fine details & unique interior was destroyed along with priceless artefacts & first editions kept in the library’s care. Millions of GBP were raised with the dream of restoring the beautiful space. It was devastating, but there was hope & no-one was injured.   

Then in 2018, after having been out celebrating my Mum’s birthday, we came home to the news that the Art School was on fire again. & how. Once again, we looked on in despair as fire this time properly engulfed & ravaged the treasured building. This time however, dismay made way very quickly for anger. How was this allowed to happen again? & this time, taking neighbouring buildings with it? What of the students? Details of the catastrophe only enraged the public further, for instance failure to find the cause of the fire & most outrageously a lack of working sprinklers despite the 2014 fire. Public sympathy gave way to disgust over this blatant disregard for & mismanagement of one of the most important buildings in Scotland. We were unmoved by the handwringing of the Board of Governors this time. Restoration contracts were cancelled & legal actions taken by the School. One staff member speaking out against the Board was removed from his post. The Chair stood down. But only temporarily.

Everything about it was a scandal of immense proportions, including the loss of vast sums of money sent in support after the first fire, but especially in regard to the treatment of Mackintosh’s masterpiece. For an artist to have been so ill-treated by his own city in his lifetime…to then have his works appropriated for the profit of so many others there…& then to have his most valuable work of genius so carelessly handled…well, it’s more than I have words for.

It might seem strange to mourn the loss of a building, even a “celebrated” building, but this one was personal. Not because I went to art school, much less Glasgow’s, but when I was young, I was shown a folder containing enormous sheets of paper, so thick that they made a noise when they were moved. Of course, after all this time, I could be misremembering, nevertheless…

Here were some of the most beautiful pictures I’d ever seen. It seemed as if the rest of the room had dimmed & all light was on the drawings.

Drawings of Glasgow School of Art. 

Drawings by my Dad. 

Dad attended Aberdeen’s Scott Sutherland School of Architecture & for their final year of study, students were required to produce a complete set of architectural plans of an existing building. His beloved’s finest building was Dad’s choice. While his eyes light up, he likes telling the story of how they were given permission to “climb all over” the entirety of the building unimpeded.

Across Scotland & surely beyond, there are dozens of personal stories like this. After the fires, friends that had attended GSoA spoke of broken hearts. Lachlan Goudie told of his artist father showing him the details of & views from the Art School. Alison Watt talked of the genius of design in the little alcoves you could hide away & cry in when your work was going badly or when you’d just received scathing criticism. It seemed everyone had a reason to mourn.

At the time of writing, GSoA is due to be renovated/rebuilt, after a period of wondering if this would ever be possible on this site due to the extensive damage not only of the interior but of the walls themselves. Incredibly, the clearing of 400 tonnes of debris is ongoing & a “Strategic Outline Business Case” for restoration is due to be completed this year. There are rumblings of separating the building as a museum piece from the Art School itself. Of course with the added pandemic restrictions, it is – even as a building site - currently closed. It seems likely that its renewal will take much longer than its creation (1897-99 & 1907-99).

The last time I walked past GSoA (in 2019) I looked up the hill towards it. Beyond the barriers & scaffolding I could see a scrap, a fragment that remained of some window lead. Flimsy & tattered, I could see straight through it to the sky beyond.  

Throughout this disaster, it has been important to remember that dear old Che is everywhere & always. He is a glistening thread woven through the entire tapestry of my life. In the future, I can only hope that his magnificent & influential works are better kept & cherished by those that deserve his legacy.