Another Angle of Vision

In 1957, a small volume of poems was issued by The Kirkwall Press, the im- print under which The Orcadian newspaper occasionally published books of local interest. Entitled ‘Shore Poems‘, it was written by Robert Rendall and, I imagine, was published at the author’s expense, as poetry often was at the time. Rendall had been born in Glasgow, in 1898, but his parents were from Westray and he lived in Kirkwall from the age of seven. At thirteen he left the Grammar School to work in the family drapery business, which was situated in a rather fine building at the angle of Bridge Street and Albert Street. Although his formal education was short, Robert Rendall never stopped learning. In adulthood he was, like many Orcadians, something of a polymath, publishing on literature, natural history, archaeology and theology as well as being a painter, a fisherman and a successful businessman. Shore Poems was Rendall’s third collection and though Edinburgh and London critics may have neglected it, the book was appreciated in Orkney, where the author was held in high regard. And rightly so, as this poem shows…

from ‘Another Angle of Vision’

In 2011, I spent time in Orkney, researching its lively cultural life. It’s an unusual, somewhat intimidating task, to come as a stranger and tell people about themselves. The attention of an outsider can offer fresh insights, provided it’s done with respect, even humility. Like much of my work, it’s not a role I sought, just a door that opened when I pushed. And like other things I’ve been paid to do, I’m well aware that I do them without training or accreditation. I have learned by doing and the work must stand or fall on its own merits.

A couple of years later, when I was invited to back to Kirkwall to give a talk about my research, I needed another way of telling the story. I found it in a poem by Robert Rendall, one of many fascinating and impressive cultural figures who have flourished in Orkney. A poet, businessman, naturalist, and archaeologist, Rendall was largely self-taught, and that too was a bond I felt. At the heart of my thinking about community art is the defence of alternative forms of knowledge and meaning-making, so I was sympathetic to Orkney’s self-reliance. I don’t undervalue universities, cultural institutions and other centres of knowledge production: I just think it would be dangerous if they ever gained a monopoly on meaning making, so that the rest of us had only to admire their work or join them. Orkney’s thriving culture shows how wrong, and unnecessary that would be.



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