And, in the beginning, there was light….
In Motherwell, in 1955, there was a form of light, quite unlike any other.
From the back door of my grandmother Meg’s tenement, for as far as the eye could see, was the sprawling edifice of The Ravenscraig Steelworks and the light from the mill could change from orange to red, pink to blue and back again according to what shift was working at the time. There was also the smell. Sulphurous, or as we used to call it, rotten eggs. I was born into this world on January 30th.
It is from these humble surroundings that I discovered colouring-in books, crayons, paint and wallpaper cut-offs. I discovered many things as a child including the fact that I was destined to be the only child of my parents and that freedom, independence and resilience were to become my companions on my journey.
Within the first few weeks at Thornlie Primary School my teacher, Miss Bryce was delighted to discover that I enjoyed painting and drawing above all else and that I was indeed, after tests, colourblind. The idea was impossible to comprehend as I only saw what I saw and painted accordingly, paying little attention to the howls of laughter and amusement echoing around the classroom from the mob.
English, arithmetic, spelling, comprehension and singing popular Scottish folk songs was all very well, but my love of football and doodling made school almost bearable. Coltness High School in the late sixties was not connected to scholarly achievement but to growing my hair long, cultivating sideburns, my beloved parka and sitting at the back of the class scouring the pages of SOUNDS, MELODY MAKER and The NEW MUSICAL EXPRESS for the latest album reviews and concert photos.
And then there was Mr Lennox, my art teacher, and Mr Johnny Stretford, my technical drawing teacher. It is to these two men that I owe a true debt of gratitude as they recognised my enthusiasm for these life-saving activities and encouraged me to pursue them with diligence and determination. From my position in the pecking order of my social network it was highly unlikely that there would be an opportunity to find my way to a paying job using my creative skills and talent. It is to this day that I am still amazed that no one mentioned that within a few miles of my birthplace stood The Glasgow School of Art and that I could have found myself a student there.
The Sixties.
In hindsight, I feel very lucky to have been a child of the sixties. One day, everything seemed to be one of a number of shades of grey, and then the next day, The Beatles appeared out of the clouds with colour, music, fashion and the future. I came home from school around 1963 to find a monster had invaded our living room and was lurking, menacingly in the corner ready to do its duty to transform our lives. Our first TV showed shaky images in black and white but it brought stories of our times, and more importantly, it paved the way for my education in music, art and identity.
Everything seemed to be happening in London, which, at the time was 400 miles away and another planet altogether. It was not all fun and games in the sixties and across the pond in the USA, Presidents, Civil Rights Leaders and activists were being gunned down on the streets and the Vietnam war became the first televised conflict, bringing the true horror and reality into our living rooms.
Memory brings back a mixed bag of Love and Peace, War and Death in equal measure but there was always a sense of optimism and possibility for a young fellow like myself who had his own dreams and visions for a life beyond. Things changed in 1967 with the arrival of Jimi Hendrix, Woodstock, Cream and what was to be known as psychedelia. The Beatles led the way with the release of Sgt. Pepper and I became fascinated by the explosion of colourful psychedelic designs for album covers, posters, fashion, murals and interiors. I was only 13, but hooked.
By 1970, the dream was over. Or so they said.
My dreams were still alive and well and the idea of moving to London became more of a reality with every wasted day at school leaving me bereft of enthusiasm, imagination and creative energy. There was an expectation that working class kids like myself should be thrilled at the prospect of an apprentice-ship in the steelworks or any of the other light industrial factories feeding from it. There was an inbuilt belief that producing steel was as secure an industry on which to build a career as any other on offer, and so, like lemmings, they flowed in and out in their thousands clinging to this belief.
As for myself, just after my 17th birthday, I accepted the last five pounds out of my father’s wallet, kissed and hugged my tearful mother goodbye and headed down to the M74 motorway to hitch-hike to London. Kris Kristofferson, a popular singer of the time, had a great hit called Me and Bobby McGee and within you will find one of my favourite lines…. ”Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose”. Those words have been rattling around in my head for the last 50 years.
The 1970’s.
Homeless and alone in London was difficult and an adventure at the same time but I was lucky and after a month or so I had a job and a place to live and many stories to tell. My first job was as a print boy for a firm of architects and within a year I had progressed to the interior design department as a junior assistant and I made ends meet working as a barman in a number of pubs in the West End. Weekends involved getting acquainted with all the city could offer in terms of culture and night-time was reserved for live music in the hundreds of bars cashing in on “Pub Rock”. I could write a book about the bands I saw and the adventures I had. Maybe I will.
My colleagues at work assured me I had the experience and the talent to attend art school for proper training and a qualification, and in 1975 I enrolled in the Diploma of Interior and Environmental Design at Chelsea College of Art just in time for the Punk Revolution to unravel the music industry. For a year I was voted in as Student Social Secretary and I was responsible for booking bands for college gigs and almost saw it as a springboard to another career in the world of Rock Music Promotions.
My dear mother finally succumbed to cancer in my final year and my only consolation was winning 1st prize in a Design Competition that also awarded me The Edith Caldecott Scholarship to The Architectural Association for one year to study architecture. Although the fees were provided, I made ends meet working as a part-time freelance architectural draughtsman for anybody and everybody In London. My friends and I entered into the wonderful world of squatting and for the next 5 years lived in various squats around Clapham eventually moving to Brixton just in time for the riots of 1981. This was the year I discovered West Indian culture, reggae and a love of Ganja. My year at the AA was also pivotal and I then enrolled at The University of Westminster to complete a BA Deg Architecture which came in a delightfully scrolled certificate that I sent to my father who proudly got it framed, and it was the first thing you saw on the wall as you entered his house.
The 1980’s
Squatting in a beautiful Georgian house on King Henry’s Road, Primrose Hill, a stone’s throw from Primrose Hill itself with panoramic views over Regent’s Park to the city beyond. University and study over after 7 long years, I enter into my “year out” working in industry with Levitt / Bernstein Architects in Camden Town. Money starts to roll in for the first time and a regular life revolving around the 9-5 working day takes hold again that affords me more time to pursue live music, theatre, cinema and my new found desire to become a bass player. My old mates from architecture school form a band and we commandeer a studio they rent for regular practice and jams on a Friday night. We are called Inca Hoots.
I am becoming a valued member of the practice and I am enjoying working on real projects that actually get built. I discover that my love of drawing evolves but I find that I have little desire to enter into the bigger process involving all aspects of project management, meetings, reports, conferences and litigation. I make a decision never to return to University and in 1984 I take out a mortgage on a small apartment near Highgate woods and begin a long drawn out love / hate affair with flat conversion, building work and rehabilitation that will continue until it was sold in 1995. It becomes clear that I can create a specialist niche for myself as an architectural designer straddling the new collaborations between architects, interior and graphic designers.
So, I set up my own one-man design practice and for the next five years I work on a freelance basis for some of the best design companies in London working in retail, hospitality and office projects. Our musical endeavours continue with our regular Friday night jams and we become an interesting, tight, unit who opens its doors to any visiting musicians and to uphold our promise never to perform live in public. We almost manage to entertain another desire, which is to never play the same thing twice. We continue to play together on and off for a total of 10 years and we are proud to say we have all remained good friends to this day. To my knowledge we only performed live once. At my wedding to Nicola in 1988. We never recorded professionally or appeared on TV or radio and we were one of the few bands who never sent John Peel, our favourite alternative DJ, a tape for his amusement.
The 1990’s
Following my marriage to Nicola, another architect, we followed our interest in energy conscious design, sustainability and alternative technologies and lifestyle moving to The Findhorn Foundation near Inverness in Scotland. The main attraction was community living, food production, meditation, and exploring on an inward level. Three intense and incredibly rewarding years later, Nicola left to pursue other dreams in America and I shaved my head, gave away all my belongings and entered into a two-week group meditation retreat followed by a 3-week walking meditation in the Himalayas in Nepal with the same group. We stayed in various Buddhist monasteries on the way and finally arrived at Annapurna base camp. My experiences were deep and meaningful and life would never be the same again. I fell in love with the intricate Tibetan Buddhist paintings and artwork called ‘tankas’ and felt at the time that this might be my next creative endeavour. It was not to be.
My next move surprised me as I ended up returning to London and moved back into my old flat in Highgate. I connect up once again with one of my oldest friends, Eugene, a wonderful, exuberant comrade from Northern Ireland who has been working for numerous criminal lawyers in various roles from investigator, paralegal and courtroom assistant. He was also the go to guy if you ended up in a police station for one reason or another and required immediate expert advice.
I got involved in this work as I was called upon to visit the scene of a crime and survey the site, take photographs and produce accurate architectural plans that would then be printed and distributed to the defence and prosecution lawyers, the jury and the judge for reference during the trial. Within a few months I was producing this work for a number of Law practices and over time I was to be involved in some of London’s biggest cases at the Old Bailey involving complex terrorist trials.
I eventually trained to do similar work to Eugene and would find myself accompanying barristers on conferences with prisoners on remand in prison and to continue all the way to a support role if and when the case came to court. My experience and knowledge as an architect was drawn upon some complex legal property issues and I learned quite a bit about environmental law. The work could be physically, mentally and emotionally draining and after a couple of years I was ready for a well-earned rest and possibly more international travel.
Wendy, one of my Nepal travel companions gave me an open invitation to visit her in Queensland, Australia, so in 1993 I rented out the flat again and headed off to Brisbane with a 6 month visa to see a bit of the country.
E N D O F P A R T 1.
