Diary of a Shopkeeper, 17th January
Leaving Scapa Flow, Eric Ravilious, 1940
The English artist Eric Ravilious was born in Acton in 1903 and died somewhere off the south-west coast of Iceland in 1942, when the RAF reconnaissance plane he was flying in disappeared.
He’d been appointed as an official war artist in 1939, and spent the last three years of his life at numerous airfields and naval bases across England and Scotland. In May 1940 he visited Orkney, when he was assigned to HMS Highlander, sailing out of Scapa Flow on a mission to Narvik.
There’s a lovely print called Leaving Scapa Flow showing a seaman sitting on deck, dazzle-camouflaged funnels behind him, the hills of Hoy in front. Hoy looks rounder and greener than it does in real life, but that was typical of Ravilious’s approach, which tended to stylise landscapes, making them look like something out of a folk tale or fairy story. He saw magic in the everyday, and captured it in his art.
One special kind of everyday magic he captured was the beauty and enchantment of small specialist shops. In 1938 he illustrated a book called High Street, with text by architectural historian JM Richards. This was a celebration of independent shops in various parts of London, with descriptions of their appearance by Richards, and wonderfully detailed colour lithographs by Ravilious.
Some of his subjects are rarely if ever seen now, certainly not on your average high street: knife grinders, clerical outfitters, furriers. Others look so familiar, even 83 years later, that they could have been drawn yesterday: the baker with piles of golden loaves and shelves of fancy cakes, the butcher with legs of lamb and strings of sausages hanging from hooks, the amusement arcade, customers hunched over pinball machines.
From High Street, Eric Ravilious and JM Richards, 1938
Take a walk along the high streets of Stromness or Kirkwall and you’ll see an array of shops and other businesses that are not only useful – if they weren’t useful, they wouldn’t survive – but also beautiful. Rural communities and the isles have their own indispensable, characterful shops.
It’s easy to be seduced by the inventive, colourful window displays of shops stocking fashion, jewellery, knitwear and gifts. But whatever they’re selling, almost every shop goes to great lengths to present itself attractively, with a view to catching the eye of passers-by.
A few years ago, a friend of a friend visited Orkney for the first time. I was mildly annoyed when, returning from a wander along Albert Street, she exclaimed, “The shops are so old fashioned!”
‘Old fashioned?’ I thought. ‘They’re well-stocked, friendly, tech-savvy – how can that be old-fashioned?’
It turned out she’d meant the street was old fashioned in the sense of being filled with largely independent businesses, and not the massive chains that dominate most high streets. It’s true that we do have some chains – though one fewer this week now that the Edinburgh Woollen Mill has announced it’s closing its Kirkwall store – and they are well supported. But the majority of our shops are locally owned, and reflect the passions and talents of their proprietors and staff.
Much like the shops that Eric Ravilious immortalised in his lithographs eighty-odd years ago.
Which gave me an idea: surely a local artist or photographer could produce a striking series of portraits of our current generation of Orkney shops. During the pandemic we’ve all come to appreciate and support our local businesses more than ever. How wonderful to have a visual record of these unique and colour enterprises, and the people who run them.
It would be a celebration of everything they represent: the spirit of Orcadian entrepreneurship.
Funnily enough, the Orcadian artist who has most in common with Eric Ravilious’s style has strong family links to entrepreneurship and shopkeeping. Charles Shearer is a scion of the family who have run William Shearer in Kirkwall’s Victoria Street since 1857. A notable painter, printmaker, and illustrator, his work shares Ravilious’s ability to blend detailed observation and mysterious symbolism – the magical everyday.
The Glasshouses, Charles Shearer
Sadly, Charles is stuck in London, where he has his studio and has been based for many years. With current restrictions, there’s no chance of him travelling here to follow up the idea.
The good news is, as well as being very well stocked with creative shopkeepers, Orkney is blessed with a vast number of talented visual artists. We’ve no shortage of suitable candidates to pick up this project and run with it.
All we need is a gallery, publisher, or other funder to come up with the necessary cash. Who knows how much it would cost, but almost certainly less than buying a copy of Eric Ravilious’s High Street book. A first edition of that is currently for sale online priced at £6,000.
The Longship currently has several Charles Shearer prints for sale, both in the shop and online.
This diary appeared in The Orcadian on 21st January. Other diaries continue to appear weekly. I am posting them in this blog a few days after each newspaper appearance, with added illustrations., and occasional small corrections or additions