Glasgow School of Art- after the fire

"It is the only Art School in the world where the building is worthy of its subject … a work of art in which to make works of art"                                                                                         Sir Christopher Frayling


Today I received an email from Glasgow School of Art
 
“This is a call to all past and present students and staff from GSA.

Do you have a remembering from the Mackintosh Building that you would like to share and have preserved in a volume of Collected Memories?

“Now is the moment to capture memories of this special place; following the fire and before reconstruction begins; thoughts on experience, event and social interaction, before they fade and become lost with time.”

Well, I graduated in 2001. So I sent them one of my memories.
 
This is it:
 
No Smoking
 
      Time: Autumn term 1997
 
 I smell smoke. Surely not? Smoking is strictly forbidden in the Macintosh Building.
I take another sniff. Yes there it is. It's coming from the other side of the temporary partition.
 
We are First Year Environmental Art and Sculpture. Brian Kelly, our tutor, left us alone this morning saying he would be back later.
 
Now the dilemma. As a mature student and former journalist on the Glasgow Herald who campaigned vigorously to get a non-smoking policy introduced on the paper, not a popular move as you can imagine amongst  the hard-drinking west of Scotland macho culture, this was  no matter. But  I am a health fanatic. I write about the stuff. I know the dangers.
 
What to do? Ignore it for fear of appearing to be an old fuddy-duddy (“ how well do you think you will fit in with the youth culture?” they asked me at my interview) or do I risk the vitriol and scathing comments of this bunch of teenage art students?
 
The problem whirls around in my brain and finds expression in my paintbrush. I have  abandoned the careful, controlled brushstrokes and it is weaving in an alarming expressionistic way across the canvas.
 
This is our first term. We have only been here a couple of weeks. I try to catch the eye of another mature student looking for support. He avoids my gaze. He is a smoker.
 
I am the only one who seems bothered. Now this irritates me even more. The students do not even acknowledge with furtive smiles and winks what is going on for smoking is accepted as part of the culture. I am seething with rage.
 
I try to remember my yoga practice and breathe deeply. Suddenly something weird happens.
 
The smoke has a familiar aromatic smell.
Surely not? I take another deep breath.
There is no mistaking it now. I take another deep breath.
 
Sure enough a sense of well being follows
And I feel a calmness moving over me. I begin to relax, and concentrate on my painting…
 
   
Welcome to Glasgow School of Art.