Montrose’s captivating art treasure

August 2010

William Lamb with his beloved Raleigh Sunbeam in 1925 or so, on a cycle trip into the Angus glens. [photo: Angus Council Cultural Services]

by Mae McKenzie Smith

It is not unknown for locals to pass by one of Montrose’s greatest assets year after year, to exclaim in amazement when they finally chance upon what lies at the end of the close.

This studio, once the centre of his working life, now a little museum, belonged to William Lamb arsa, an artist and sculptor of outstanding talent. Lamb, with characteristic generosity and vision, bequeathed his and many examples of his work to his native town, so presenting the people of Angus and beyond a unique opportunity to enjoy not only his sculpture, drawings, etching and paintings, but also to experience the distinctive purpose-built space in which he thrived.

A small cottage in Mill Street, Montrose, was the birthplace on 1 June 1893 of one of Scotland’s most visionary artists. William Lamb was the son of a ship’s captain and the youngest of six children. At the age of 13 he left school and was apprenticed to his older brother, James, a stonemason. He showed an early talent for sculpture and drawing, which, like a true lad o’ pairts, he developed further by attending evening classes, thus showing an early dedication to his craft much in the tradition of another great North-East son, the artist and etcher, James McBey, whose work is celebrated in the collection of Aberdeen Art Gallery.

The heyday of etching in the early part of the 20th century with which McBey’s name is always linked, was possibly something of which the young William became aware when he eventually spent time studying at Gray’s School of Art. Many apprentice monumental sculptors and stonemasons went to Gray’s to develop and complete their training. It was there – while discovering the joys of working in freestone, marble and granite – that he distinguished himself by winning a competition for competence and speed.

Back in Montrose, working for his brother, he bought a motorbike to enable him to explore the landscape and fill sketchbooks. This form of transport, however, was abandoned after it landed him in a ditch, to be replaced by a Raleigh Sunbeam bicycle which for the rest of his life was his most valued possession, providing the means to roam far and wide.

This enthusiastic, vital and intelligent young artist found an outlet for his mounting energy as a talented sportsman who enjoyed both football and cricket. Indeed his performance as a goalkeeper was good enough to earn him a trial for Aberdeen’s reserve team, an achievement not developed, however, as his abiding goal in life was to become an artist.

Shattering wartime experience

Then came the war of 1914-18. Right away William and his brother volunteered and spent the next few years in the trenches. Legend has it that William joined the Cameronians rather than the local regiment, the Black Watch, as he did not like the dull colours of their kilt.

His shattering wartime experiences, the long weeks often waist deep in water and mud, the numbing cold and the horrors of killing, scarred him mentally, dogging him for many years.

Equally awful were the physical wounds he suffered. A piece of shrapnel damaged a nerve in his chin; a shell hitting his leg broke a bone which became septic; but worst of all – and what could have been a tragedy for an artist – he received a wound to his right hand and forearm. Five machine-gun bullets severed the sensory nerve, which meant his sense of touch in his right hand was lost forever and he had a permanent ache from the damaged nerve.

In attempting to have the shrapnel removed from his hand Lamb underwent 19 operations, in the end without success, owing partly to the limited techniques of the time which only made his injury worse. His determination won through, however, and with much perseverance he trained himself to draw and sculpt with his left hand and even devised a leather sling with which he held the tools in his otherwise useless right hand. His courage and single-mindedness allowed him to fulfil a long cherished dream and he enrolled at Edinburgh College of Art in 1920.

His dream turned out not to be all he had hoped for. The college, although recognising his talent, depressed him. Bored with the formality of the diploma course and struggling with the almost unbearable pain in his wounded arm he left for France, sailing from Leith, his luggage strapped to his precious Raleigh Sunbeam, on 23 September1922.

As well as the many exciting drawings and etchings he created on his travels through Belgium, France and Italy, most of which you can enjoy first hand at the studio in Montrose, he has left us a fascinating, detailed, daily diary of his journey on the Continent and the impressions made on him by his experiences.

The early part of the diary tells us of his travels through the still war-torn region around Menin, Ypres and Amontierre, revisiting the scenes of so many nightmares, tracing in the war cemeteries the tombs of fallen comrades, perhaps trying to lay ghosts and get his war experiences in perspective.

His account of his cycle journey to Paris, mostly in torrential rain and dense fog, is almost unbelievable for us in the 21st century. On finding places to sleep: “a comfortable ditch”, “a dry haystack” or “a dugout in top-hole condition, dry and even, though the floor is cold and hard”. On eating “half an onion, two very ripe tomatoes and a few apples, that with a small slice of bread and a cake of chocolate has made my supper. No dishes to wash, and very few crumbs”.

The whole diary reveals an unwavering determination to reach his goal through thick and thin, and all the while drawing and sketching as he covered the miles. On reaching Paris on 2 October he decided that since night had fallen he would wait to enter the city next morning.

“I spied a small wooded piece of ground and made for it; just reached it as darkness set in. Set my bike against a fence under the trees. Took off my shoes, put on one coat, rolled another around my feet and crawled as close to the hedge as it was possible. I must have slept a little: it was bitterly cold; thought my feet were ice, could not get them warm. However, I was up with the dawn and on the road well before six in the morning.”

Paris and Rodin

It took a day or two for him to find digs in Paris, but by 9 October he was already busy making sketches. He worked prolifically while in Paris and at the Montrose museum one can see many of his sketches of the city, particularly of the bridges and the Seine.

Eventually he was able to enroll at the Ecole des Beaux Arts and begin to work again in clay, where he received the ‘compliment’ that he was copying Rodin, which amused him as he had only seen two of Rodin’s works, so, to quote, “it must have been in a subconscious fashion”.

William led quite a social life in Paris. He quickly made friends and was particularly popular with the Scots colony, which delighted in his amusing tales of the Scots at home and his stories of the war. In his diary he wrote about the welcome he received at the manse of the Scots Kirk where he received many cups of tea, so delicious since he had “not tasted a decent cup of tea since leaving Montrose”; in his opinion there was no other drink in the world quite as good as a fine cup of tea.

In June 1923 he embarked on a marathon cycle tour of France. The drawings and etchings which can be seen at the studio are an amazing record of the ground he covered, 2,790 miles in all. Before returning to Paris in September he had travelled from east to west, round the entire coastline and as far as Lake Geneva where he spent a long time, “under the smile of Mont Blanc”. His final ploy before heading home to Montrose was to load his bike and all his possessions on to a train and head for Rome.

The account of his stay in Italy is full of the joy and wonderment he found in the work of the Renaissance masters, from the paintings of Raphael, Botticelli and Titian to the sculpture of Michaelangelo, Bernini and others. During the next two months, mounted on his trusty Raleigh Sunbeam, he sketched and explored Rome, its architecture and galleries, and the surrounding villages and landscapes.

Leaving Paris on 5 December, he was in Montrose by Christmas. Thereafter Montrose became his home and headquarters. His studio in the 1920s was a small attic above a shop in Bridge Street; he installed a printing press and began a series of etchings and life size sculptures.

Now back on his own territory his friends played an important part in his daily life. Coincidentally, this was at a particularly rich period in Montrose’s cultural history, as living in the town was a group of young Scottish literati and artists who believed in a Scottish Renaissance of life and the arts. This group, part of his circle of friends, included the poet Violet Jacob, the painter Edward Baird, Christopher Murray Grieve, better known as Hugh McDiarmid, and George Fairweather the architect. For a man who loved to talk and exchange ideas this creative atmosphere was a pure joy, instigating a burst of activity that produced hundreds of etchings and drawings, and some of his best sculpture. At the studio it is fascinating to see the bronzes he made of these and other well known Scots.

Around this time Lamb had work accepted for the Royal Scottish Academy, the Royal Academy in London, and as far afield as the Paris Salon, and was honoured by his contemporaries by being elected an associate member of the Royal Scottish Academy in 1931.

Princess Elizabeth and French

A year later he was commissioned by the Duchess of York to sculpt a portrait of Princess Elizabeth, and he worked for weeks in the drawing room at 145 Piccadilly. One day, the six-year-old Princess asked him, “Can you speak French?”to which William replied,“Well, I’m afraid I have forgotten any French I knew.”

The rapid response from the princess was, “You know, that’s the funny thing about French, you always forget it”.

The bronze of Elizabeth was so successful that he was invited to make a head of Princess Margaret, then one of the duchess herself. All three bronzes are on show at the studio.

He returned to Montrose, showing no interest in becoming the fashionable society sculptor on the London scene. He commissioned his friend George Fairweather to draw up plans for the studio off the High Street, which is the museum we enjoy today. All the wood panelling and furniture are Lamb’s work.

Throughout the next 18 years the studio was the centre of Lamb’s life; the place where he produced a vast range of etchings, drawings, water-colours and sculptures in clay, plaster, wood, stone and bronze. Much of this is still displayed there and other major works can be seen at locations throughout the town. One particular favourite is Le Paresseux or lazy boy, which can be found outside Montrose museum, with a highly polished knee. Generations of Montrosians have found it hard to resist a wee rub as they pass this iconic figure.

William Lamb died of kidney damage in January 1951 and was buried at Sleepy Hillock, facing the steeple, that landmark of Montrose which for him symbolised his native town.

• The studio is open to the public until mid-September, 2–5 p.m., or at other times by appointment with Montrose museum, telephone 01674 673 232. Admission is free.

Mae McKenzie Smith, an adopted North-Easter originally from Glasgow; mother of three, grannie of four, ex-art teacher. Polishes her vocabulary by being a slow solver of quick crosswords.

This is an article from the August 2010 edition of Leopard Magazine. To read much more like this every month, subscribe to Leopard Magazine.