Maxwell Macleod’s Cauld Blast
EVEN THOUGH she specifically asked for no large obituary, I think it is right to note the death at 69 of Prof Stana Nenerdic. This extraordinary woman, having initially worked as dresser to both Nureyev and Fonteyn, then went on to become the first female professor of history in Scotland and whose death has yet to be reported in the media.
Born to an Eastern European father and a Yorkshire mother, she ran away from home to work as a dresser in various theatres. She described Fonteyn as a darling and Nureyev as a monster.
Naturally bright and an obsessive reader, she studied both literature and art before ending up as a lecturer and then professor of history at Edinburgh.
On a personal level she was no typical academic, being invariably cheerful and positive, and only days before her death was hungry for news of both politics and vibrant life in general. This was an artist whose positivity enabled her to jump from theatre into a senior role in the world of academe.
AND THEN there's the death of Toby Robinson.
The boat building community of the Gaelic world, and thousands of others, are shocked at the news of the death at fifty five of Toby Robinson, who was instrumental in the famous project to restore the burnt-out hulk of a Danish fishing boat in the remotest boatyard in Britain, a beach site over twenty miles from a main road at Doune in Knoydart.
They had achieved this through using the insurance money they had gained after her accidental burning not as suggested by the insurers to sink her wreck, but to build a hostel to house volunteers to come to the wilderness to rebuild her into the lovely Eda Francen, a charter boat for tourists that still does good business. It was a phenomenal project that inspired others facing difficult challenges.
Toby then became a legend, building a floating caravan which he used to travel the isles restoring remote houses and creating a wilderness home for his autistic son (see a recent article of mine in the Herald).
A stone to his cairn.
THEN. OF COURSE. there is the impending death of the Church of Scotland. The figures are extraordinary. Fifty per cent of the congregations gone in the last ten years; average age of those left attending sixty two. Do the Math. At this rate the Kirk will be all but dead in twenty odd years.
This will release hundreds of church buildings onto the property market leading to the dilemma of who should control them – the bean counters in the Kirk or the local communities who had often financed their construction.
Local planners will also have a role in deciding what should be allowed. Should they be museums to christianity, community centres. or holiday homes for lairds?
Tom Morton, the renowned social activist in Shetland, is firmly of the opinion that more of these churches should be community centres. So evidently are the people on the Hebridean Island of Eigg who are half way through an initial fundraising campaign to buy their largely unused church.
This could be a critical time for the establishment of art centres in Scotland and should surely be noted and engaged with.
FINALLY, there is the worrying possibility of the death of Summerhall, Europe's biggest privately owned art centre located in the middle of Edinburgh. I wouldn't dream of disentangling the mess of interests in this wonderfully successful venue other than to thank its director, Robert Macdowell, for his tireless work for the venture and to wish him well as he struggles to retain it.
Personally I am drawn to the notion of selling off the ghastly tower block that dominates the complex and recycling the cash, perhaps to refurbish the fifteen rooms that have been used by the legendary Richard Demarco, who, at 94, is having to possibly seek other premises for the archive.
At all events, every effort must be made to savewhat is now a national – no – international cultural treasure by the relevant public bodies. And so should we all.
See you next time. If I survive.
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