A Legend in His Own Teatime

On a recent trip to Oban recently, we took a short drive to Seil Island (technically not an island as it's long had a bridge to it) and the harbour village of Easdale. Easdale has very little in it. On arrival, one is met with a stunning view over to Mull, a small pier, a few white cottages, a restaurant, a putting green, and a rather large building covered in tartan, antlers, deer skins and the sound of bagpipes floating out the doorway.

This may seem like another tacky tourist souvenir shop with the usual shortbread kitsch, but no! This is the world of the late C. John Taylor, the world renowned prize-winning Scottish artist, poet and songwriter extraordinaire.

What? Never heard of him? Well, that's not too surprising, because a little stroll around the "gallery" tells you where the fame begins - and ends.

First, he's not Scottish. He was born in Stockport. He was trained as a professional artist, in Liverpool. He worked all his life, as a chemist. This is where he won an award, for advertising his business. Or, as his biography puts it, "for pro-active and imaginative marketing", which explains a lot about how his gift shops have lasted.

Upon retiring, he purchased the building in Easdale and opened the shop, the first of several. The shop itself is a warren of rooms and halls covered every inch with Scottish kitsch and souvenirs and, of course, his paintings. Little plaques of information dot around the place giving snippets of how successful his art has been. He's won awards (though no specifics given). He's painted famous people such as the Queen, the Pope, and Russel Harty (again, nothing to actually say that they sat for him, just that he's painted them). He's also travelled extensively around the world for his passion. Or, again as his biography explains, he and his wife had a lot of holidays on cruise ships, and he took his painting set with him. This explains why a lot of the international paintings are near ports. (Indeed, cruise ships were so much the passion that they each passed away on them. At different times, I hasten to add.)

I'm not mocking the guy. He clearly found that the way to sell yourself is to believe in yourself, even to the point of fantasy. If you believe that you're a world famous and much sought after artist, you therefore must be.

Looking around the shop, it's doubtful that many people are fooled. It's amusing at best, a little sad at worst. If there's any one thing wrong with the whole set up, it's only this. His paintings are a crime against art. I took a few photos with my iPhone so as not to grab the attention of the watchful staff, so you can judge for yourself. I'm particularly affected by the sunset painting.