Goodbye, foulest building
(CMYK taste test in the Foulis building at the Art School: Glasgow, Scotland)
I have been rather AWOL again this past weekend – apologies. It has been completely unavoidable as the weekend has been chock full of general activity. Saturday saw me at a friend’s more than impressive piano recital (her first since she was twelve) and then through to Edinburgh to visit more friends for dinner. Simon and I got back late from all that fun. So I wasn’t feeling like a long Sunday. Luckily my uncle, accompanied by my Gran, treated me to a long drive in the country. It culminated in a sterling lunch that set me up for the rest of the day. Shortly after I made it back home, I had to try and mentally prepare myself for another party. I honestly felt like turning in for the night and simply lounging in pyjamas – it has been such a long week. I also thought that even if there would be alcohol at this party, I would probably give it a miss on the grounds that I have had quite enough over the past weeks. However, my friend Liz popped by a little early with a bottle of wine. Really, it would have been churlish to refuse a glass and force her to drink alone. As it was, another friend turned up to help us finish the bottle and to accompany us to the very early party commencing at 6pm. Good thing I had a proper cooked lunch, eh?
We were met at the doors of my old studio building by a host of familiar faces – they had been waiting on our arrival. Now, this event has been in the pipeline almost a full year and until that weariness struck me on Sunday, I had been very much looking forward to it. The building that I worked in for my entire degree duration (except the time I lived in Köln, Germany) is being demolished next week, along with the next door 1960s tower block of studios. This was the final send off for these old friends of ours. It turned out to escalate into one of those incredibly surprising and wonderful evenings that seems to be fun for everybody. This view is the CMYK room; now for all those non-print savvy readers, CMYK are the four colours needed in printing, Cyan, Magenta, Yellow and KBlack. I never understood why the K was for black but it doesn’t keep me awake at night. Anyway, there were four white canisters sitting on little shelves on the right hand wall, each contained a different colour of pressurised cream of the squirty variety. It was indeed edible and from the looks of one girl’s teeth, she had tried every colour. I did not eat it – it was too horrible to contemplate. I did end up with it on my bag, right down the front and back of my dress, different colours under every fingernail and some had been sprayed across y neck. Needless to add, it had liquefied and spread much further than its original perimeters, dying my skin an extreme cyan. With some wiping, I just looked badly bruised – all this occurred withing ten minutes of entering the building. The complimentary fizzy wine at the entrance had also depleted my resolve to stay teetotal for the evening. These first events set you up for the remainder of my time at the party. I ended up on the roof of the Foulis building being yelled at by an irate Jannie (Janitor) and had to descend the ladder in disgrace with about thirty other miscreants. I ran from there to cause more mischief elsewhere – the excitement of the event had completely gripped me and I was entirely out of normal control. Misbehaving with merriment would be a fairly accurate description.
Marker pens were provided so that we could temper the squirty cream with ink and draw and write all over the walls. The signs indicating, “Please write only on the walls” were a temptation to do just the opposite; all the windows were written upon, as were floors, radiators, door handles and skin. I ended up with a poorly executed bunny rabbit on one arm that I still haven’t managed to completely remove, despite my furious scrubbing. Thankfully the cream dye is washable and my ‘ruined’ dress is quite back to normal. The dead Vic Bar that I attended the ‘last night’ of was reanimated for another last night. It was stripped bare – the bar was entirely empty and the tills were gone. Drinks tokens could be bought in threes from the door and drinks dispensed from a very tight DJ booth crammed with a fridge and bottles. I danced in the Vic from around 9pm till after midnight. A fire alarm stopped play and I decided to creep home before the fire engines turned up. I think the party ended there.
The night was a delight – another superb and gloriously unbridled mayhem filled evening of silliness, actively supported by my former educational facility. It turns out that my education is one that just keeps on giving. We saw the buildings off in style. The phrase you can see here, “miss you Foulis” (plus the chubby love heart) was written in K cream by me. I was happy to leave my mark in drippy foodstuffs on a calico wall of the building I spent my life in for almost four years. At the time, the fun prevented me feeling any nostalgia or sadness, but in the light of the following day I can imagine a long few years of construction work just around the corner. I can also conceive that I may well begin to suggest that the Foulis was a joy to work in and a crime to tear down. For the record – it was not either of these things. What is going in the same spot may well be worse! I fell asleep, post party, post Vic with the memory of hot pakora* and the stench of off milk in my nostrils, caught on my dress and on myself.
* Please. If anyone sees me (or a loved one) considering pakora from anywhere close to Sauchiehall street, please please stop them. Reasons not disclosed.
– Today Rosie is having a telephone meeting and drawing frantically in Glasgow, Scotland –
[...] buildings from the school. It was not well suited to its purpose and quite frankly looked hideous. You may recall seeing the interior when I attended the ‘demolition party’ held there in the Summer. I’m looking forward to seeing how the demolition and rebuild will [...]