Drawing from his Native Soil

February 2002

John Doran

There’s only one word to describe Eric Auld’s attitude to life and that’s ‘exuberant’. The Aberdeen artist’s unfailing joie de vivre is positively infectious. Time spent in his company is both warming and stimulating.

He appears to have found the simplest antidote to the burdens of age; he simply ignores them.

Eric Auld working for his Post Diploma show in 1953.

Despite his 70-odd years, he leaves no one in doubt that he’s not ready to sing from Walt Whitman’s hymn-sheet in praise of ‘the grandeur and exquisiteness of old age’. That would smack of surrender. Rather, he firmly echoes Bernard Baruch’s hearty contention that ‘old age is always 15 years older than I am’.

Enthusiasm stimulates all Auld does, be it painting or sculpture or sport. His still spare build testifies to his twice-weekly visits to the swimming pool, and photograph albums recount earlier exploits on the rugby field and running track, at school, in the Army, in later life.

As for his paintings, they fill his home in the elegant, tree-lined west end of Aberdeen. It is an eclectic body of work: youthful studies of a dosser and of dedicated drinkers in a harbour bar, a portrait of his elegant mother; the later, more familiar landscapes and ingenious cityscapes, and more recent coastal studies, commanding in colour and construction, and quieter, more intricate still-lifes.

Looking around, it’s easy to see why Eric Auld’s work is so popular in both his native city and much wider markets; it is not only well executed but, above all, it’s honest.

Some of it might not ‘push the envelope’ but neither is it as pretentious, not to say meaningless, as some that is offered as art these days. He gently points out that his oeuvre contains a fair share of bold statements. His involvement with the ABBO group (an aesthetically successful and profitable association with fellow artists Bill Baxter, Donnie Buyers and Bill Ord) during the late Fifties and Sixties) resulted in a body of work that still commands attention.

“I can show you some of my work of that period that is nearer to abstraction than most folk might see in my work now. I feel that the work I did then helps me now in that the broader values of composition and of colour still stand me in good stead. Beneath whatever I do in a topographical way now there’s an abstraction that has strong virtue.”

There’s nothing precious about Eric Auld. He appears to have time for everybody; be they seasoned daubers or impatient, boundary-breaking students, keen amateurs, or those who simply want to have a chat, he’ll happily talk – and listen. That’s surely what’s made him the most popular and identifiable artist in this part of the country. That and his unremitting generosity; few are the charity fund-raisers who come away from his studio empty-handed.

“People do get in touch with me,” he says with a smile, “and I’m happy to give them something.” The smile blossoms into a warm, wry laugh. “I don’t mind that because I don’t need to sit on a committee and I don’t need to organise things.

“I can just stay in my studio or go out into the country and enjoy what I’m seeing without the pressures of doing anything more than producing a work for them, be it a painting or a print.”

The same generosity and enthusiasm is apparent in everything Auld talks about, particularly where it involves his family. Without their encouragement and support one senses that his road might have been more tortuous. In fact, it might have taken him away from art, into the technical maze of aeronautical design. He laughs heartily on being reminded of that schoolboy ambition.

“It must have been 1945/46 that I decided to head along that path, but difficulty with French was one of the hurdles; you had to take a language if you were going for a university education. But there was more than that: I didn’t relish the prospect of giving up the freedom of drawing and painting. The restriction of tight drawing which is necessary in technical drawing was less attractive to me than the enjoyment of being stimulated by what I saw around me.”

His parents, both of whom had an active interest in painting, helped him. His mother, who had taken up painting after she’d reared her family, was “a great painter of portraits and flower pieces”. His father was an antiquarian and “dabbler”, with an interest in miniatures and still lifes.

“They were very supportive, always allowing me to choose,” he warmly recalls.

When he finally got to Gray’s School of Art, he came under the influence of the likes of Alberto Morrocco, Madge Mitchell and, perhaps above all, the irreverent but immensely sensitive Robert Sivell. He was a teacher whose style “prevailed in almost all of the work produced in the painting department at Gray’s in those days”.

These were the people who made Auld and his fellow students recognise the essential value of drawing and draughtsmanship. It’s a discipline that’s sadly neglected today, he observes. But then he brightens as he adds: “The quality of drawing and portraiture that we see in today’s portrait shows is excellent.” He muses for a moment before quietly adding: “But in general terms, artists don’t seem to give drawing the importance I think it should have.”

When his time at Gray’s was done, Auld faced the prospect of National Service. Although the two years were to be nearly devoid of painting, he characteristically found something to make life worthwhile: his other great passion – sport! “To be part of a team in what proved to be a great sporting club was most enjoyable,” he says with a canny grin. “I used my ability in basketball, swimming, water-polo, athletics and cross-country running, all at the nation’s expense.”

An even greater challenge awaited him as he changed back into civilian clothes. Within the month he planned to marry the smiling, homely Pat. He had to find work.

“Teaching was the obvious choice; there weren’t many other things available,” he recalls. But then he brightens and, in a rush of warm, ingenuous words, adds: “But during the training period I found I enjoyed children – I still do… their sheer exuberance and the demands they make of you. Also, the stimulation that you could give them was an enjoyable feature.”

That said, he confesses that there were drawbacks. “The pressures of teaching were very demanding, not only from the children but also the system that had to endure. There were periods when I was depressed and felt frustrated.”

But through it all he kept his own painting going.

“Luckily, in both my jobs, at Aberdeen Academy and at Kincorth Academy, I was able to come home at lunchtime and have 20 minutes behind the easel.” A heartfelt sigh punctuates his words before he adds: “Oh…the bliss of the longer summer holidays. I had a very supportive family. Pat allowed me to go off on trips to the West Coast or get stimulation from a day up in the hills.

“I had a one-man show every year, or every second year, and during the period from 1957-67 we had the ABBO Group. We held together as a group and mounted big shows in Glasgow and Edinburgh, Dundee and Aberdeen. Those were the times when there was an injection of spirit from each member. That was the driving force.”

Inevitably, the ABBO Group’s day ended. They were all teachers with young families. And, on top of that, the pressure of putting on big shows became too much. But the break-up did not inhibit Auld.

“I was taken up by my own country; by the landscape and the features of Scotland that I enjoyed so much,” he says. “When I went to the hills I was escaping from the pressures of teaching and society in general.”

Today, Auld still enjoys time in his beloved Aberdeenshire countryside and in its encompassing hills. His visits to more far-flung places are still echoed in dramatic compositions. More recently, he’s tested himself with the intricacies of still life. It was, he grins, a bit of excitement.

That’s surely what’s at the root of Eric Auld’s apparent youthfulness – his undiminished excitement at the pleasures he has around him. Indeed, he is the happiest of fellows.

After training as a journalist John Doran worked in the feature film industry, latterly as a freelance film producer/director. His long-running television programme brought him to Aberdeen and he decided to stay.

This is an article from the February 2002 edition of Leopard Magazine. To read much more like this every month, subscribe to Leopard Magazine.