bill abroad
louisiana
denmark
Bill was awarded a travelling scholarship on graduating from GSA in 1959. Over 12 weeks he travelled to the great cities in Norway, Denmark, Sweden and Italy viewing art and architecture. This image was taken in August 1959 on the steps of the Louisiana Museum of Modern Art that had only opened the year before, in 1958.
He and my mother exchanged letters every day. He journalled his experiences through these letters and with the aid of a 35mm camera loaned to him by his mother, Mary. Bill was obliged by the terms of the grant to write a report of his travels. Rosemary, being the more organised mind of the two, typed up his report of his trip for him [on a typewriter that his parents gave him for his 21st birthday and that he would use for business to the end of his days] from the content of the many letters he sent to her at home in Cumbernauld.
the firemaster’s son
Bill was not a studious type and like many neuro atypical creatives, only excelled at things that he took an avid interest in. He was accepted to Glasgow School of Art despite gaining only one Higher - in Geography - on the strength of his portfolio, something quite unthinkable today. It was unusual enough for the son of a Clydebank Fireman to go to art school that it was mentioned in the local paper. Bill’s parents permitted him to go, on condition that he agree to do teacher training after graduation.
The prospect of doing National Army Service was also still a possibility for him in 1959 but was thankfully abolished just in time. He talked about this ‘Near Miss’ often and told me that he had ‘no intention’ of becomng a teacher or picking up a firearm and that if it came to it, he’d take off from Inshinnan on the family boat and just disappear.
His fierce singlemindedness when it came to his integrity, and propensity for following his own mind at all cost, that was so in contrast with his quiet nature, makes believe he would have, if it came to it.
‘venice is a letharical joint’
Bill’s character and wit shine through his letters home and provide a magical insight to the everyday of the great european cities of culture, post war and pre the dramatic societal shift of the 1960s. I still have a set of the extremely fine Venini glasses he mentions here that he brought home in a rucksack, which my mother claimed as a miracle. The monk he mentions as ‘Brown and White’ would be of the Dominican order and Johnnie Millar would have been one of their teachers at GSA.
Letter from Bill to Rosemary
Seminario Santa Maria del Salute, Venezia 18 Sept 1959
Darling, I spent the morning visiting the academia which ‘has a fine collection of paintings’. There were tons and tons of Tintoretto, Veronese, also Canaletto, Tiepolo, some perspective illusion frescoes, an odd Titian or two, Giovanni Bellini, Lazzaro Bastiani, Jacopo da Montagnana, Giorgione + Piero. I must find the difference between them - Jacopo and Domenico Tintoretto. I don’t know how I’m going to approach this collection in my report. I found it dull after the Uffizi and I just don’t like Tintoretto, Veronese, Tiepolo or Canaletto anyway.
They had some interesting cases for displaying miniatures, I must remember a display stand I saw in a shop today. That and coffee took up the entire morning. Venice is a lethargical joint. After dinner, I’m on full pension at this place, 1500 lire a day. Anyone can stay here but its reduced to that for students. The food is not bad but the interior dec of the dining room is unfortunate - rather clinical - it makes you think of steam and fat on top of soup. Well, after dinner I went a sightseeing walk from church to church. The ones I visited were Santa Barnaba, S Polo [I think] and [Basilica de Santi] SS Giovanni e Paulo. The latter is on Percy’s list. It has the Verrocchio monument to Bartolomeo Colleoni outside – you must have drawn that man’s head in Johnnie Millar’s. It has a sacristy with a Veronese ceiling. I was claimed there by a monk who put on spotlights for me and handed me a pair of opera glasses. There was nothing I could do but comply – he stood at my elbow + muttered. ‘It’s a wonderful thing – a miracle’ probably the only English he knew. He approached for an offering towards the church but he suddenly realised I was a student. Well he said the Italian word ‘studente’ I said ‘si’ so he shook me by the thumb instead; not my hand, just my thumb. He was brown and white. I don’t know what order they are. There were quite a lot of interesting paintings there. I remember a Giovanni Bellini. They seem to have buried the Doges there. I had coffee outside in the campo – under an umbrella.
Next I looked inside San Lorenzo and then I made my way to the Piazza San Marco to get the Vaporetto home. It’s strange coming home to a place that’s got fifty percent population of priests – but they are very human in Italy. They all drink Chianti and some of them smoke. They just touch their head and shoulders with their forefinger as they lean forward to pick up their knife and fork. It’s so unobtrusive a gesture that I didn’t notice it at first, I thought they just ‘fell to’ and thought that strange. It’s late and I’m going to bed now, I am being eaten alive by mosquitos – last nights rain must have brought them out.
[Saturday 19th]
I’m up early and I’ve had breakfast – I’m going to go to Padua for the day to see Giotto’s frescos. I won’t be able to report tonight as this is the last letter – according to my calculations – you should get it on Monday or Tuesday morning. I will make notes diary-wise but I will be able to tell you when I get back. It’s a terrific day here – windy + hot. I have been looking at the shops since I got here – but they are pretty horrible – they sell mostly glass and leatherwork. The better glass is of course Murano and Venini but I saw Venini glass that I liked better in Kobenhaven although some of the stuff in their showroom was quite nice. It seems rather expensive though - for tourists. Things seem to be more expensive than in Florence. I’m not going to be outrageously well off when I get home – I think I will have about £5 Sterling in hand – that won’t last long. I don’t want to cut it any finer in case I run into difficulties. I wrote last night and told my folks that I was coming home. I don’t know if they’ll send Fiona to meet me – your guess is as good as mine. That’s all darling, it’s only three more days until I see you again.
Sam [Bill]
