Glasgow Again

Glasgow is an hour’s flight from Dublin. The airport is south of the city and the bus takes us there in thirty minutes for £11. The driver doesn’t have change of a fifty, Britain being weirdly averse to high denominations, but my friend obliges and pays the fare with his magic phone. We are dropped off just below Blythewood Square, close to our hotel. When I say below, I mean below, remembering now how hilly Glasgow is. The city’s modernist grid system accentuates this, with a quite San Franciscan undulation of steeply sloping sidewalks and buildings. 

The Sandman Hotel is on West George St. The desk is excellent and we are given comprehensive guides and recommendations for our wining, dining and cultural pleasure. Plenty of that in Glasgow for sure. A short walk around the neighbourhood brings us past the Glasgow Art Club. But why pass when there’s people wandering in with paintings under their arm? We figured to blag our way in, though in fact it’s open to public callers; simply ring the bell. Eslyn Barr of the Paisley Art Institute, fellow inmates of the building, gave us a fascinating tour. The Club has occupied these premises on Bath Street since 1893 when a gallery was added. Architect John Keppie designed this and was assisted by his draughtsman and future partner Charles Rennie Mackintosh. Eslyn shows us the Mackintosh frieze and the beautiful paintings and artefacts accumulated over the years. The members exhibition is also going up, a continuation of such predecessors as John Lavery, George Pirie and James Paterson. These artists would feature prominently on our trip.

The next morning we breakfast at Wetherspoon’s. This becomes a habit, as it had on a previous trip. What’s not to like? Full Scottish with Haggis and copious cups of coffee. My friend’s magic phone isn’t accepted here so my cash is king. This branch on Sauchiehall Street is called Hengler’s Circus after the circus which perfpormed nearby in the early twentieth century. Iillustrations on the walls tell the history of Hengler’s, the Empire Theatre and other aspects of Glasgow history, including the Glasgow Boys. And you can drink till the wee small hours.

We aim for the open top bus tour and a stroll down Suachiehall Street. The street makes for a good point of orientation. It cuts east west through almost the entre city. Towards the city centre it’s pedestrianised and a bustling shopping precinct. The name comes from the Scots for Willow Meadow, as the area once was before the city expanded in the boomtimes of the nineteenth century. It was first the haunt of the well to do in fine Victorian townhouses. The Art Deco Beresford Hotel was built in 1938 for the Empire Exhibition. Rising to eight stories it was referred to as Glasgow’s first skyscraper. A student residence and briefly a casino, it is now an apartment block, while newer, higher skyscrapers abound. A browsing highlight was poster shop On a Wall Near You. A world of iconic images, stone age, rock age space age, you name it.  Picture heaven, and paraphernalia besides, with teeshirts, tote bags and, my addiction, fridge magnets. Smiles all round.

I lead a short detour to the School of Art on Renfrew Street, Mackintosh’s most famous architectural work. Seriously damaged by fire in 2014, it was undergoing extensive reconstruction when last I visited. It burned down again in 2018, The School was founded in 1845 and gives degrees in Architecture, Fine Art and Design. In 1909 Mackintosh’s building was completed and became a testament to the genius of its creator. Hopes are to have it reinstated by 2030. In consolation, back on Sauchiehall we made for the Mackintosh Tearooms. Miss Cranston’s project for sober sipping saw her open four tearooms in the city. Tea Rooms were an intrinsic part of Glasgow life in the late Victorian age. Miss Cranston commissioned Mackintosh to design her Willow Tearooms on Sauchihall Street in 1903.  He created an elegant Art Nouveau merger of modern glass and steel craft with the exotic aesthetic of the Orient.

The open top bus eludes us. It should be based on George Square but that whole area was suffering from excessive repair and the bus was diverted elsewhere. Instead we spent the evening recuperating with food and drink in a variety of downtown bars including Malone’s Irish Bar. We saw Scotland suer a one goal deeat to Japan in a friendly at nearby Hamden Park. Indeed, Glasgow does boast that its the friendliest city in the world. For us it held true. It can be a bit like a thistle curry at times; spiky to begin with, but guaranteed enduring warmth.

Tomorrow is another day and we find the bus actually departs from Cathedral Street. The audio guide gives a good chronological account of the city. Glasgow Cathedral is dedicated to St Mungo who founded the city in the 6th century. His four miracles of Glasgow are formed into a rhyme: Here is the bird that never flew, here is the tree that never grew, here is the bell that never rang and here is the fish that never swam. The bird he saved is illustrated by a startling mural on a gable nearby The Cathedral was begun in 1136 and the city grew around it. High Street and Trongate are a couple of the medieval streets remaining on the East side. 

This town was built on muscle and blood. Tobacco, cotton and slavery saw its port prosper in the eighteenth century. It became a gateway to the new world. With the Industrial Revolution, Glasgow became a European leader in industry and engineering, particularly as a centre of shipbuilding. The Clyde made Glasgow and Glasgow made the Clyde. Our tour takes us along the north bank of the river passing through scattered parkland and ambitious modern developments including the SEC Armadillo Arena and the Riverside Museum with the tall ship Glenlee.

Beyond the ring road motorway we enter the West End with its grand terraces and parkland. The area is famed for its restaurants and bars and home to some of Glasgow’s top sights. The scenic Kelvingrove Park is a central feature. Sylvan and sublime it is bisected by the River Kelvin The river’s name was appropriated for Baron Kelvin. The famous Irish physicist William Thomson was born in Belast in 1824 and for fifty years was professor of Natural Philosophy at the University of Glasgow. Here he figured that the coldest temperature possible, absolute zero, was -273 degrees Celcius. Even in Glasow.

The University of Glasgow sits atop Gilmore Hill. Its majestic spire dominates the city. Across the road the Hunterian Museum has a large exhibition on Charles Rennie Mackintosh and his group, The Four. He and friend Herbert McNair and the sisters, Margaret and Frances MacDonald met at the Glasgow School of Art and later married; Charles to Margaret. She was a renowned decorative artist and worked in collaboration with her husband on many projects. The sisters flowing art style was influenced by Aubrey Beardsley, leading to the group being dubbed the Spook School. 

The Mackintosh’s lived right here. The modern museum was built on top of their terrace. The interior has been skillully recreated within the modernist building, preserving its aspect and most importantly the wonderful interior design Mackintosh imposed on the Victorian house. The Hunterian boasts a huge collection of Scottish and internastional paintings. The Glasgow Boys feature strongly with work by Patterson and Lavery amongst others. American artist James MacNeill Whistler is well represented, the University receiving a large body of his work by bequest. Whistler’s Scottish ancestry, the actual Whistler’s Mother, and the admiration of the Glasgow Boys helped bring this about.

Rain falls as we cross the road to the University. We ghost through the quads and cloisters, evoking magical worlds, including Hogwarths it seems. The University was ounded in 1451 and moved here in 1870. The Gothic Revival spectacle was designed by George Gilbert Scott, crowned with the eighty five metre bell tower in 1887. 

Downhill through parkland and over the Kelvin River brings us to the Kelvingrove Museum. Completed at the start of the twentieth century, the red sandstone Baroque temple houses a richly varied collection of art and artefact. The main concourse is dominated by the classical pipe organ which booms into life at lunchtime when there is a regular recital. It is blasting out music to a lively throng of all ages as we arrive. The ground floor houses an eclectic and dynamic exhibition, including an Elephant and a Spitfire, a vernacular history of Glasgow and an Egyptian collection. The art again features the Glasgow Boys, Mackintosh, Scottish Colourists and French Impressionists. Floating above all is Salvador Dali’s most coherent masterpiece, Christ of Saint John of the Cross. This famous work places us, the viewers, at a vertiginous angle. Along with the painting we find ourselves being borne heavenwards. But heaven must wait and we take the bus back to the hotel. Time for rest and recreation, and another night tossed about on the waves of Glasgow’s undulating streetscape. Pure magic.

When I look out my window many sights to see

When i look in my window so many different people to be

That it’s strange, so strange

You’ve got to pick up every stitch

You’ve got to pick up every stitch

Must be the season of the witch

Donovan Leitch is a local boy, as is apparent on his song Season of the Witch from his third album Sunshine Superman (1966). The song is soaked in urban paranoia and possibility. Its timeless span reaches from Celticism to modern gothic. It is almost an obligitory soundtrack; in the last month I’ve heard it on three or more tv series, including Australia’s The Twelve and Norway’s Harry Hole series. Strange indeed.

Glasgow

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Approaching Glasgow from the south, the green, rolling countryside does not imply the pending city, so much as its ancient name, the Green Valley. Only as we plummet into the Clyde valley itself does Glasgow spring from the ground. Great buildings and soaring spires are piled in close order on the hills to the north. It’s a big city, and the aggressive architecture of the industrial nineteenth century emphatically underlines this.

Access by car is easy enough. Once off the ring road, the streets are laid out in a grid. We zig zag our way to the hotel just off Sauchihall Street. The street makes for a good point of orientation. It cuts east west through the city for, well, forever. Chameleon-like, it adopts the hue of all that it passes through. Towards the city centre it’s pedestrianised, a bustling shopping precinct. It’s a bit seedier heading west, where we breakfast at Wetherspoon’s – Full Scottish with Haggis – and ponder the possibilities of a host of Curry Houses. Passing the ring road we’re in the more salubrious West End with grand terraces, parkland and mature trees.

Busy Buchanan Street

Busy Buchanan Street

Sauntering east down Sauchihall Street towards the city centre we join a growing river of humanity. At each intersection streets head uphill and down, distances dotted with landmark spires and turrets. It’s bright and brisk as evening approaches, but we find there’s not much doing here after dark. At Buchanan Street we take a right angle. Sloping down towards the Clyde, Buchanan Street is lined with imposing commercial palaces. Above the pediment, spires and statuary sharpen the skyline. Soft yellow sandstone builds strong, impressive facedes, blood red sandstone breeds angels from the architecture.

This town was built on muscle and blood. Tobacco, cotton and slavery saw its port prosper in the eighteenth century. It was a gateway to the new world, in both directions. The Scottish Enlightenment forged its own genius, taking the city to new heights. After the Industrial Revolution, Glasgow became a European leader in industry and engineering, particularly as a centre of shipbuilding. I hadn’t realised Glasgow would be so hilly. The grid system accentuates this effect. If not quite San Francisco, it was reminiscent of Seattle, all that commercial power beneath the pale, active northern sky. There’s more than a twist of the Gothic going on here. Superheroes would be right at home amongst its architecture, villains too. If picturesque Edinburgh harboured Superman, Glasgow would have The Batman.

The Kelvingrove

The Kelvingrove

At the salubrious end of Sauchihall Street, the Kelvingrove is situated in parkland around the Kelvin River. The river’s name was appropriated for Baron Kelvin, the famous Irish physicist William Thomson, who worked from the University of Glasgow overlooking the valley. Coming to Scotland, it’s faintly humourous that he figured how low temperatures can go. The Kelvingrove Museum was completed at the start of the twentieth century. It is an impressive, pink-hued Baroque temple, housing a fine collection of international and Scottish art. Orientation was initially difficult, the museum map is a mirror image of what it should be. But Glasgow’s a bit like that, I suppose.

Dali's Christ of St. John of the Cross

Dali’s Christ of St. John of the Cross

Salvador Dali’s most coherent masterpiece, Christ of Saint John of the Cross, is its outstanding work. Glasgow might seem a curious repository for such a determinedly Catholic work. Indeed, the painting has suffered the attentions of a slasher, his handywork a palimpsest beneath the restoration. Still, the painting exudes an awesome serenity. It is the epitome of suspension, combining crucifixion and resurrection, appropriately enough for this city. Nearby, another startling Catholic artwork illuminates the shadow. Harry Clark’s Coronation of the Blessed Virgin was commissioned for a nearby convent in 1923. It is a fine example of Clarke’s meticulous, flowing art. It makes a most appropriate companion-piece to the Dali.

The gallery also houses paintings by Rembrandt, Van Gogh and Renoir. The ground floor houses an eclectic and dynamic exhibition, including an Elephant and a Spitfire. A haloed Elvis points the way. The main concourse is dominated by the classical pipe organ, booming into life at lunchtime when there is a regular recital.

Elvis grove

Elvis grove

It’s a hot climb through lovely parkland to the University of Glasgow atop Gilmore Hill. Its majestic spire is an ever distant destination, dominating the city from it lofty eyrie. We ghost through the quads and cloisters, seek out the Hunterian Museum where the interior of the house of Charles Rennie Mackintosh (1868 – 1928) is recreated. It is held within the silo of the Library and Art Gallery complex across from the main building. There is something Tardis like in exploring the interior of a house that no longer exists. Mackintosh was neglected in his late career, and for a while since, but his reputation is now universally established.

Though I fancied a stroll to Byers Road for some drinking and dining pleasure, time was tight and we had to move on. We take a bus through the West End, which is pleasantly alive with drinking and dining possibilities. We can only window shop from the bus, we will return another time.

Our quest for all things Mackintosh leads us back to the city centre. Mackintosh’s design is a pervasive strand throughout Glasgow, though scarce enough unless you know where to look. His work was an influence on Klimt and others in European Art Nouveau. Time has to be made for tea and coffee too. Tea Rooms were an intrinsic part of Glasgow life in the late Victorian age. A surge in Temperance was a motivating factor. Miss Cranston was a key figure in the business and she commissioned Mackintosh to design her Willow Tearooms on Sauchihall Street and Buchanan Street. He imbued them with that typical Art Nouveau merger of modern glass and steel craft with the exotic aesthetic of the Orient. Such places, whilst bolstering clean living on the one hand, were meant to be seductive. Coffee remains a favourite tipple in Glasgow today, but amongst other things. There’s a good arthouse feel to many of the cafes. Mind you, Glasgow’s friendly reputation took a dent in one. As I lounged with a stray arm draped over a nearby chair, a customer whipped it from under me without a by-your-leave. Somewhat harshed me buzz, that.

The Lighthouse

The Lighthouse

The Lighthouse, focus for all things Mack, stands sentinel on Mitchell Street. Its corner tower results in the nickname. At night, a faint light blinks from its upper storey, the beacon of a lighthouse that isn’t, aground in the metropolis. It was designed for the Herald newspaper, and was Mackintosh’s first public commission. It’s just off Buchanan Street, by way of narrow Mitchell Lane. The approach is suitably gothic. The Lighthouse gives a comprehensive view of his career. The interior of Mrs Cranston’s Tea Room is recreated. There are models and drawings of his architectural work, a sad timeline delineating his fading career.

Glasgow ArtschoolGlasgow School of Art, as it is and as it's meant to be

There is a graphic depiction of the School of Art, his most famous architectural work. The original stands on Renfrew Street, just about. Seriously damaged by fire in 2014, it is undergoing extensive reconstruction and is clad in scaffolding when we visit. I’m envious of this building, my own Art College days having been spent in a dilapidated annex of Leinster House, a disused warehouse and the early days of the refurbishment of Power’s Distillery, now a fine home for Ireland’s National College. I’m familiar with scaffolding and art college. Glasgow has had this purpose built masterpiece since 1909, it is a testament to the city, and its creator, Mackintosh.

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We finish by doing what one must in a Lighthouse. We climb the spiral staircase to the top, where there are magnificent views over Glasgow’s rooftops. Back to the more claustrophobic confines of Mitchell Lane. Good place for a pint, and there are good eateries nearby, for later. For now, time to absorb the September heat sitting half outdoors in the gleam and gloom of the atmospheric lane. The Lighthouse looms above. There’s a feeling here of being on a faultline between past and present, of inhabiting a graphic novel with grainy realism just a squint away. That’s draping the cloak of Glasgow around you. That’s being The Batman.

A pint in Mitchell Lane, at Bar Tabac

A pint in Mitchell Lane, at Bar Tabac