Frank Bruce 29 August 1931 - 8 September 2009 

In a Class of One

 

I was in a class of one.  Uneducatable.

Classes could come and go.   I would be static, very embarrassing.

I was dyslectic.  In the mid-forties no-one had heard of dyslexia.

One day a class came in to the room, the teacher was not in the room.

The class was rather boisterous, the teacher came in unexpectedly,

everybody was going to get the strap.  I remonstrated that I had nothing

to do with the fracas as I didn’t know any of the class.  

Notwithstanding I got the strap.   I was thirteen.   That was the last day I went to school.  

 

I learned myself to read and write, after a fashion, first comic strips,

then a cowboy book, Montana Bound, then the Count of Monte Cristo.  

I mention all this because some-one else might be in the same predicament.  

Society is not always kind.   If one is branded and always wrong in school

and out of school one starts to make up one’s own rules.

 

My first job was in a large sawmill.   The sawmill was driven by a large steam

engine and a huge boiler.   The boiler was fed and fired with sawdust.

To retrieve the sawdust one had to go under the floor, a space of about

four feet, that allowed one to half crouch to the different saws

and fill bags of sawdust.   The air was so full of dust it dimmed the few bare

light bulbs, reminiscent of thick fog.   The bags of sawdust had to be dragged

under the floor to the boiler, there was a space between the boiler and the wall

of about two feet.   A narrow ladder was placed there.   One had to carry the

sawdust up the ladder a bag at a time.   On one side of you was a wall,

the other side the very hot boiler.   If you gave a wobble when you were

going up the ladder your arm got burned.   A Charles Dickens scenario.

  

I had many jobs, from sweeper-up to Sports Manager, too numerous to mention.

One of the reasons I started to sculpt, I had an operation to my back.   The Doctor

advised me not to try and do the type of physical work I was used to.

I took up carving to say I am still here.

I looked at other artists, none of them were or had used the visual harmonies

in the trees that speak to the mind and the associations which these images call up

exploiting the associations of the abstract.   There can be no form free from

association and moral and social criticism.   You cannot draw a line between

criticism and metaphysics.

 

My work has culminated in a maquette, entitled The Lever.  The powers-that-be

used the Cross as a lever to make Christ change his teaching.   He knew

that he was going to be crucified, he broke the lever.   A much more positive

symbol  than him hanging on the Cross.

 

I moved the sculptures from the Aviemore area to the Banff area and created

a 5 ½ acre Sculpture Garden and Gallery, open to the public.  It was very

successful for 12 years.   The Forestry Commission did a grand job of

moving them back to Feshiebridge, also creating paths for the public.

I gave the sculptures to the Trust.   The small sculptures are in store until

the Gallery is built.

 

Frank Bruce June 2009