Today I arrived at the Scottish Sculpture Workshop and was warmly welcomed into this fervent yet relaxed arts hub, buzzing and screeching with tools and tinkering and set boldly at the mouth of Lumsden Village.
I’m here to assist a community engagement project to pre-empt the launch of Goodman’s Croft – Radio Lumsden; a community arts project steered by the inspiring and engaging artist/puppy, Rocca Gutteridge.
My mission - our mission - (that we’ve fully accepted) is to unearth the voices that anchor this village and discover a hunger for creativity in an outwardly fed and watered community.
Craig is the 'tech' wizard who picked me up from the station and he's perfectly lovely. I'm instantly endeared to his northern English easy nature, his scruffy attire and particularly his use of the expression "absolutely beautiful" when describing the people he's been working with; two weeks in to this exciting internship. We're going to get on, because I've barely wondered if we'll get on (other than to write it here) and we both love beer. Again, marvellous.
Whilst SSW folk are busying around the workshops, I set off on foot into the village, armed with dry-cured beef strips for my first wander around. It’s true I found myself masticating alongside the cows and with only slightly less foam at the mouth. Why the beef ‘jerky’ I don’t know, it was a culinary experiment, to accompany my trot into the unknown.
First stop, the Old Smithy, or as a friend with personal connections has informed me, it is the “‘al smiddy’”, owned and blessed by Anne, a local woman with worldly charm. And a tiny dog. But more on Anne tomorrow, as we have our first official chat arranged.
I stopped into the local (and only) hairdressers. My master plan was to book an appointment and slowly, snip by snip hear the owner reveal all the secrets of the village; the gripes, the moans and the stories unfolding as I am trimmed and spruced into a shadow of my former self.
“Nothing this week I’m afraid”, she smugly chirped.
The empty village shop seemed sparse and pricey and the staff have a reputation. But instead, with a very local Express under my arm, I’m greeted with smiles from a mother and daughter team behind the counter, French, and pleasant. I ask where they hail from originally (as I have a foreign accent too) and the chit-chat escalates into a tale of woe, about how difficult it is to join in activities in Lumsden, if you’re from a neighbouring village. They spoke of hostility.
The pub was closed on the way past, as I made my way along Main Street at around 5pm. It's nestled in the bosom of the Lumsden Hotel Inn, which was also closed. The reception, it would seem, is definitely not as warm as the bosoms I’m used to.
Undeterred and parched from the excessive consumption of jerky, I veered off-piste to venture onto a country track, which pleasantly sloped down towards the luscious Lumsden fields. It was on this route that I made my first enlightening discovery. After strolling past a succession of low window sills, adorned with teapots, china cats and Geraniums, I caught the glossy eye of a ceramic figure. Dark and twisty, this was colourful, macabre and altogether unusual - wait a minute, there are locals here who flirt with unusual passions and display them, defiantly, in place of a pair of china cats. Marvellous. On I go...
Final stop the primary school, via the soft and mossy path that's home to the Lumsden Sculpture Trail. The presence of the arts is weathered and permanent here, though the locals I see choose to take the shorter route on the Main Street pavements above.
I was too late for the Head Mistress and the school was winding down for the day, but just the smell of blu-tack on magnolia paint made me enthusiastic about preparing our forthcoming workshops with the P4s to P7s there on Monday.
Looking beyond the school buildings, the 'no speed limit' signs bookend a travellers pass through the village. I turn on my heels back to SSW. Checking if the pub had now opened on the way.
No comments:
Post a Comment