Jim Mountfield gets arty

 

© Aphelion Magazine

 

My horror fiction-writing alter ego Jim Mountfield has just had a new story called They Draw You In  published in the July 2019 issue of the webzine Aphelion.

 

They Draw You In came about through a desire to write a scary story set in an art gallery.  Not in a world-famous gallery, like the Louvre or the George Pompidou Centre in Paris, or the National Gallery or Tate Modern in London, or the Guggenheims in New York or Bilbao – all of which I’ve been lucky enough to visit over the years – but in a small provincial one.  A gallery where the artists whose work is on display are less well known or not known at all, where the artwork itself is probably variable in quality, and where the overall vibe is unglamorous and unassuming… but also unpredictable, because you just don’t know what you’re going to find there.  One place that inspired the story was an art gallery I explored in the Romanian town of Brasov a few years ago.  The premises were cramped and the visit was brief, but some of the things I saw were memorable – because they were slightly eccentric and odd.

 

 

Because I wanted to make the setting drab and ordinary, but also disorientating and disturbing, I suppose I tried with They Draw You In to emulate the work of the Liverpudlian writer Ramsey Campbell, who’s made a career of taking drab, ordinary settings and characters and doing disorientating and disturbing things with them.  However, while I wrote it, I found myself borrowing ideas too from the life of notorious occultist Aleister Crowley who, as well as being a magician, theologian, drug addict, mountaineer, poet, novelist and self-styled ‘wickedest man in the world’, was – yes! – an artist.

 

I was slightly dismayed after I finished the story to sit down one evening with my better half and watch a new movie on Netflix called Velvet Buzzsaw (2019) – and discover that it too told a horror story set in the world of artists, paintings and galleries.  Would it cover exactly the same ground as They Draw You In?  Well, I don’t think so.  I enjoyed Velvet Buzzsaw and particularly enjoyed its savage ridiculing of pretentious art dealers and art critics, but I found it all over the place in terms of its horror elements.  Things happened in it without rhyme or reason: one character was dismembered by a machine in a modern art installation, another was murdered by a creepy figure from a modern art installation, and another again was swallowed by paint that magically flowed out of a wall mural.  Hopefully, the idea at the heart of They Draw You In is more consistent and coherent.

 

Incidentally, the half-dozen paintings that appear in the story are inspired by real-life ones.  Those real paintings are Fix Your Eyes by Fiona Michie, Journey in a Carriage by Alfred Wierusz Kowalski, The Little Street by Johannes Vermeer, Fishers in the Snow by John Bellany, The Lark by George Henry and (obliquely) The Spell by Sir William Fettes Douglas.  With the exception of Kowalski, who was Polish, and Vermeer, who was Dutch, all those painters were or are Scottish.  So although the Caledonian art scene isn’t usually the first thing that springs to mind in connection with Scotland, it’s clearly had a big influence on the humble horror scribe Jim Mountfield.

 

For the next few weeks at least, They Draw You In can be accessed here and the edition of Aphelion in which it appears can be accessed here.

 

Glasgow boys

 

© Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum

 

The loose confederation of late 19th century artists known as the Glasgow Boys was just one aspect of Glaswegian culture that didn’t get a look-in when Scotland’s largest city was made European City of Culture for 1990.

 

Writing about the event 22 years later in his controversial essay Settlers and Colonists (2012), the Glaswegian writer and artist Alasdair Gray castigated the city’s councillors and their City of Culture managers for ignoring the Glasgow Boys and for also ignoring local theatrical writers, producers and performers like Archie Hind, Peter McDougall, John Byrne, David Hayman and Billy Connolly:  “…these transient administrators knew or cared nothing for these local achievements and were employed by equally ignorant or careless town councillors.  To both sorts the city’s past was mainly rumours of gang violence and radical Socialism, both of which should be forgotten.  New Labour wanted the City of Culture to attract foreign tourists and investors, so performances and shows were brought from outside Scotland.  Hardly anything Glaswegian was presented in Glasgow’s Year of Culture.”

 

Shortly before Gray penned Settlers and Colonists, the Glasgow Boys at least received a permanent showcase in the city where their circle had come into being.  In 2011, a permanent room dedicated to them and displaying more than 60 of their paintings was established at Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum.  This came in the wake of a hugely successful exhibition called Pioneering Painters: The Glasgow Boys 1880-1900 held at Kelvingrove and at London’s Royal Academy in 2010, which, incidentally, was the first exhibition devoted to them for more than 40 years.

 

According to a BBC news article written in 2011, the Glasgow Boys consisted of 23 artists, although their Wikipedia entry lists only 22 names.  (Who was that unlucky, unnamed 23rd Glasgow Boy, I wonder?)  In their paintings, they were motivated by a desire for realism and naturalism, for depicting what they really saw in the world around them – being stylised in terms of lighting, colour and symbolism if necessary, but without being formulaic.  This put them at loggerheads with the Scottish art establishment of the time, centred around Glasgow’s age-old rival, Edinburgh.  At the same time, their influences extended far beyond Scotland’s borders.  These included the Dutch impressionists, French realists and the general late 19th-century fad for all things Oriental.

 

At the end of last year, I got a chance to explore the Glasgow Boys Gallery at Kelvingrove.  Here are what I thought were its highlights.

 

Sir William Guthrie painted Old Willie – The Village Worthy (1886) featured at the top of this entry.  This practically acts as a manifesto for the Glasgow Boys, for instead of creating a flattering portraiture of somebody against a lush, comfortable background, Guthrie simply paints an old fellow in his everyday clothes against a common whitewashed wall and makes no effort to disguise or soften the weather-beaten aspect of his features.  Guthrie was also responsible for A Highland Funeral.  Depicting a group of black-clad mourners gathered around the doorway of the deceased, it’s about as bleak and Calvinistic a work as you can find in Scottish art.  Born in Greenock, Guthrie was the son of an evangelical church minister, so he probably knew this world well.

 

© Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum

 

William Kennedy led a geographically varied life, spending time in the Scottish towns of Paisley and Stirling, in Paris, in Berkshire in England, and finally in Tangier.  Whilst living in Stirling he painted Stirling Station (1887-88), capturing the place in a dreamy purple twilight (which probably doesn’t come out very well in the illustration I’ve provided below).

 

© Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum

 

Moving to more exotic subjects, George Henry’s Japanese Lady with a Fan (1894) is one of many works by this Ayrshire-born painter to have a Japanese theme.  Indeed, Henry and his friend and fellow Glasgow Boy Edward Atkinson (E.A.) Hornel spent a year-and-a-half in Japan in the early 1890s.

 

© Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum

 

Also in Kelvingrove is the mystical painting The Druids – Bringing in the Mistletoe (1890), which I’ve seen attributed to George Henry with Hornel cited as an influence, but also seen described as a collaboration between Henry and Hornel.  If memory serves me correctly, this wasn’t actually on display in the Glasgow Boys Gallery when I was there.  Rather, it’d been squirrelled down to the basement where there was a temporary exhibition in progress, Alphonse Mucha – In Quest of Beauty.  The exhibition not only covered Mucha’s work but also looked at that of his contemporaries and possible influences, and I suppose there is something Mucha-esque about The Druids, in its content if not so much in its execution.

 

© Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum

 

Born in Australia but brought up in Kirkcudbright, E.A. Hornel himself is the painter of the decorous and languid The Coming of Spring (1899).

 

© Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum

 

I have to say The Coming of Spring is a contrast to another Hornel painting on display, The Brownie of Blednoch (1889), which was inspired by a poem written by William Nicholson in 1825.  The brownie of the title is a fearsome thing with grey-brown skin, Spock ears, a black, crooked mouth like one on an unlit Halloween lantern, eyes that resemble poached eggs and a beard that’s as long, swirling and tentacled as an octopus. But the sheep in the rocky landscape behind it seem strangely untroubled by its presence.

 

© Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum