Sketches of Stirling: Seven
Proceeding through the porticoed entrance to the Smith Gallery on Stirling’s Dumbarton Road we enter a different world, a delightful time warp, greeted by two friendly members of staff at reception. This place is Stirling’s special treasure in my view, a combination of relaxation, celebration of the past and a showcase for contemporary artists. For one thing, entrance is free, and despite the paintings, museum items and historic artifacts, it feels more like someone’s country house, all gathered on one floor.
To the left of the entrance hall is an airy cafe, its walls partially covered by alternating ochre, green and grey square tiles forming irregular patterns offset by those of plain white, reminiscent of the Art Deco. The tall sash windows have low rails where net curtains once hung, now slung with wooden shelves bearing pots of tall succulents. It is clearly a meeting place for local, older people who want a quiet coffee and maybe a chat, away from the more bustling atmosphere of other cafes in the city centre. Beside the cafe is a gift shop, selling items of local interest and sometimes Scottish fayre. This area is often home to fascinating, transitory art displays.
The hallway of the Smith Gallery opens out into a central foyer where permanent paintings are on display mounted on dark green walls. In the middle, one is usually met with a ferocious tiger, meaning business, jaws open in a snarl, sharp fangs menacing. Except at present he has been moved to one side to make way for the temporary showing of an especial item: a silver gilt Renaissance casket that had once belonged to Mary Queen of Scots. To mollify the tiger a paper tudor ruff has been placed around his neck, in keeping with the historic period of the exhibition.
Fear not! — the tiger isn’t real, his lifelike prowling figure is covered in Tunnocks Teacake wrappers, making him a royaler than royal full-size specimen, created by artists David and Robert Mach. The former has used foil wrapping in his artwork and ‘Easy Tiger’ is an outstanding example of this, well suited to a permanent home at The Smith Gallery.
The casket, taking centre stage, is a sight of great beauty, personal yet splendid. We are fortunate to be able to view it. Originating in France during the reign of King Louis X1V it escaped an unhappy end as he had ordered items of such value to be melted down to raise money for his armies. Now in possession of the National Museums of Scotland, the casket is believed to have once contained letters that led to Mary Queen of Scots’ downfall and ultimate fate. Examining it at close quarters it is possible to see that the shallow-arched lid is decorated with magnificent scrolled flowers and leaves amid silver strapwork, while a pin-pricked fleur de lis on one side of the casket confirms its age and place of origin.
The main part of the Smith Gallery houses the permanent artifacts and displays that tell the story of Stirling’s rich history, including the tale of the Stirling Wolf. There are ancient whale bones found in the Forth valley amongst other early remains. These include ones from Roman times, housed in a stage-lit mock temple with a terracotta roof and a bright red floor bordered by a geometric golden yellow design, lending superb atmosphere.
And atmosphere there is aplenty, from accounts of William Wallace and the Battle of Stirling Bridge which took place in 1297. Then there’s a bust of Robert the Bruce accompanied by tales of the bloody Battle of Bannockburn in 1314. A rearing horse, draped in gold chainmail, ridden by an armoured knight complete with a gold shield emblazoned with a red lion rampant entreating us to remember the battle, cannot fail to catch the eye.
The world’s oldest football can also be found in the Smith Museum, thought to be made from a pig’s bladder and deer leather, discovered in rafters at Stirling Castle during the early part of the twentieth century. It is proudly displayed in a glass case against a backdrop of mauve fleur de lis and lion rampart on purple, celebrating Scotland’s early links with the game.
The march through local history continues with a beautiful eighteenth century floral dress worn in 1742 by Annie Gillespie, the daughter of a Stirling provost, on her wedding day. In stark contrast there’s a reminder of Stirling’s coal mining history, with a banner of solidarity from miners at the local Polmaise Colliery on display. There are also celebrations of local trades. A green tricycle supporting a yellow box invites people to visit the Cosy End in Lower Bridge Street, where fish suppers and ices are sold. The Barnwell brothers and their flying escapades are also recorded by the presence of wooden propeller blades, a wing frame and a painting of their doomed monoplane.
The museum is stuffed with all manner of objects, too numerous to take in, in just one visit. But highlights, other than those already mentioned, stand out. In particular, various bright tartans, neatly folded, manufactured at the local mills in Bannockburn. Another, a governess cart from either the late nineteenth or early twentieth century, fitting tightly into a corner. Also known as a tub cart because of its shape, it was used to transport several people, very often a governess in charge of small children, hence the name. The cart would have been pulled by either a well-behaved pony or donkey and was regarded to be a safe mode of transport. It was made by carriage builders in the place now occupied by The Thistles, Stirling’s indoor shopping centre.
In keeping with the equine theme, a shining black, life-size saddled horse statue celebrates ‘Scotland’s Day, held on Glasgow Green’. This leads us to the exhibition of old farming equipment: plough shares, harrows and all kinds of pre-mechanised agricultural machinery displayed against a painted landscape of green fields, mid blue silhouettes of the castle rock and distant hills, and a starkly contrasting bright yellow sky. The scene is dramatic and reflects the importance of farming in the Stirling area which back in the eighteenth century was covered in peat bog and uncultivated marsh. In the nineteenth century the Carse of Stirling became one of the most productive agricultural areas of Britain.
The final stand out is an old upright piano, the kind one might see in an early twentieth century house, for those lucky enough to possess such an instrument back then. Its uneven ivory keys, like loose teeth, suggest better times, and certainly not those of wartime Britain. On view are gas masks, newspapers from that era, an old ironing board. A lifelike statue of a nurse in World War Two uniform shows off her smart blue belted dress, red cape and starched white headdress contrasting with a display of what might be her off-duty accessories: a compact mirror, soap, and jewellery.
Outside, in the grounds that enfold the Smith Gallery on all sides, is a garden, a haven of calm, which can be visited in its own right without even entering the gallery. To one side more pieces of agricultural machinery are accommodated, placed like metal garden architecture, cleverly blending with some actual modern specimens in this verdant, open space. Bending metal tubes bearing petalled flowers and a seat with curving supports transition the visitor towards a wooden arbour, painted dark green, with further seats of the same shade. It is like entering a fairy world, with a tree stump covered in a weird white fungus and other stumps arranged around scattered picnic tables shaded by giant trees in full leaf.
A notice proclaims that Ailie’s wildlife garden has come to life, where a range of habitats have been created for the visitor to explore. We learn that native plants have been used wherever possible in order to support birds and insects while local craftspeople have been involved in the creation of the mosaic pond, the drystane walls, a willow tunnel, wood carvings and a turf maize.
Such a feast of beauty there is for us to see: deep blue hydrangeas, candy pink weigelia blooms, St. John’s Wort berries contrasted against shiny green bushy leaves, splashes of purple buddleia nestling in garden corners. Then a mass of big rounded pale blue-mauve alium, cottage garden yellow loosestrife, white ox-eye daisies and tiny fringed pink willow herb plants in natural flower beds. Nothing forced, nothing cultivated.
There are more picnic tables and tree stump seats, arranged like that of an outdoor dining room, and a beehive amid the maize, a miniature tribute to the local Kings’ Knott at the foot of Stirling Castle. There are more seats gouged out of a tree trunk, and a thick, gnarled log, carved with shallow basin shapes, shaded by a rowan tree, its berries already orange bright in July.
A stone-walled sanctuary has been created in a far corner of the garden, where one can sit and contemplate for hours on end, if so desired. It is reached via the mosaic stream, sparkling with bright blues and turquoise decorated concrete slabs. Lastly, there’s an outdoor theatre, constructed of wood. One imagines magical performances taking place here, mystical audience members gathered on carved wooden seats, entertained by travelling minstrels.
Before getting too carried away, we exit left from the green lawn that is an extended stage, a place where wood pigeons land, communicating with each other in gruff, low-pitched tones. Via a pathway between a bower of holly bushes we reach the other side of the gallery building.
A red seat — could it be vintage French? — with three madeleine-shaped back supports arranged in a row, invites us to linger awhile. But it is time to leave, with the intention to return, time and time again.
