The Slab Boys revisited

The Traverse Theatre in Edinburgh chose to celebrate its 40th Anniversary late last year with a revival of one of its major successes, The Slab Boys Trilogy by writer and artist JOHN BYRNE. His other major writing triumphs include Tutti-Frutti for television, and several plays and adaptations, but he is equally well-known as a painter and designer.

He lives in Nairn with his wife, actress Tilda Swinton, and their two children, and spoke to the Arts Journal as the Traverse’s new production of the trilogy was scheduled to reach Eden Court Theatre.

AJ: John, when and why did you decide to move to the Highlands?

John Byrne © Traverse Archive

JB: It must have been about six years ago now, and to be honest, we moved here almost accidentally. I’m from Paisley originally, and people from the Glasgow area often gravitate to the west coast, but I like it up here. We knew the area a bit from to-ing and fro-ing to Nairn and Easter Ross over the years, and the chance came up to rent a wee place near Tain. We took it and never looked back.

AJ: Was it a work or lifestyle-related decision?

JB: It was to do with our outlook on life generally, and the fact that we wanted to be more in the country. We knew the area slightly, but we didn’t really know anybody up here, and there was no family or anything. As far as work goes, I can do my work anywhere, and Tilda is going to be travelling wherever she is based. For me, being here is very conducive to both writing and painting, There were no problems that way, and living here was a bonus, both the place itself, and the friends we have made here.

AJ: No regrets, then?

JB: No, absolutely the reverse of any regrets. In fact, in the past five years I have never had occasion to go anywhere near London, which is a proud boast of mine. Although my agent’s gallery is there, there has genuinely never been a reason that I would have to go so far. Doubtless I shall pay a visit in the future, and of course I’ve been lots of other places in that time.

AJ: Do you make use of the local studio in Nairn?

JB: I did start off renting a studio in the High Street, but I was never in it. I know the people who do use the studio, and get on well with them, but I just wasn’t using it.

AJ: How did it feel to see Slab Boys revisited all these years later?

JB: Well, to me it wasn’t all these years. I know people always say such and such a thing just felt like yesterday, but it really did feel that way for me. There have been quite a number of different productions over the years, so it has kept coming round, so I hadn’t left it that long. It was really nice to see it again, though, and this was a very special occasion to be marking the Traverse’s 40th anniversary. I was thrilled that they decided to stage a new production of the trilogy.

AJ: Were you involved in the productions?

Paul Thomas Hickey in Still Life © Douglas Robertson

JB: Yes, and I enjoyed it very much. It was a wonderful cast, and I really enjoyed doing it. What I mainly did was answer their questions about what it was like back then. One forgets what a new generation this it. The late 1950s is a bit like the Middle Ages to them, just as the 20s or 30s were to us. You forget that, and it was really a matter of filling in for them what it was like to be the age they now are back then. It was very enjoyable working with them, though, and I really enjoyed the shows. I saw all three in one day, and that was really something to see them in that way, and watch the characters grow.

AJ: Is there a feeling of detachment from the work when you watch one of your plays actually performed?

JB: I think there is a certain detachment built into that process anyway, because you are watching it as a spectator, as a member of the audience, although it also something that is very familiar to you. It is a slightly ambiguous situation.

AJ: Is painting different in that respect?

JB: It is, and I always used to feel a bit let down after I had an exhibition, because nothing really happens after you have hung the show. That’s it. I love both things, but the great aspect of the theatre is that you have that live performance every night, and you don’t have that feeling that nothing has really happened. The theatre is wonderful for that, and the work grows before your eyes, while with a painting someone takes it away and lives with it and maybe it grows for them, but it’s in the privacy of their home or wherever.

AJ: How does television work relate to that theatrical experience?

JB: With television or film you know you have something in the can which will not change, and it’s a matter of waiting for it to go out and then having the response. You also see it in the context of other programmes that night or whatever. It’s obviously a very different process in the making of it as well, but it’s very enjoyable.

AJ: Tutti-Frutti and Your Cheatin’ Heart were written for television, but did you have to make compromises when you adapted and directed a film version of The Slab Boys?

JB: Yes. I condensed two of the plays into a 90-odd minute film, and to be honest that was too truncated. I would do it differently now – actually, I wouldn’t necessarily do that one differently, what I would like is to do another film version of the play. It was too much to try to encapsulate in one film – it was a quart into a pint pot. Plays and films are really chalk and cheese, and it is very difficult to try to turn one into the other. I loved doing it, I have to say, but the outcome wasn’t entirely satisfactory.

AJ: Was The Slab Boys conceived as a trilogy from the outset?

Original performance of The Slab Boys first performed at the Traverse Theatre on 6 April 1978 © Traverse Archive

JB: Almost from the start. We were in rehearsals at the Traverse the first time around in 1978, and I remember saying to the director at the time that it was going to be three plays. I wanted to know what happened to these people, and the second one seemed a very natural growth from the first.

AJ: The Slab Boys itself is generally regarded as being quite directly autobiographical, given your own experiences as a slab boy in a carpet factory. Is that the case, and if so, did they grow less so as you progressed through Cuttin’ A Rug and Still Life?

JB: Well, that’s difficult. It’s a yes and no answer. As a writer or an artist you use experiences as a springboard to something else anyway, and everything you do is some kind of self-portrait. It’s all dredged up and disguised in some way.

AJ: Why did you turn to writing when you were already involved in painting?

JB: I had always written, but purely for enjoyment and a laugh, I never took it in any way seriously until the penny suddenly dropped that you could entertain a whole theatre full of people who responded almost as one to your work. That suddenly seemed very satisfying. I caught the bug when I painted the pop-up book for 7:84’s production of The Cheviot, The Stag and the Black, Black Oil, and of course The Great Northern Welly Boot Show even before that. It was an exciting time to be involved in theatre, with lots of new things happening.

AJ: Are you drawn to the craft aspect of writing as well as painting?

JB: I think it was more that I just wanted to create some characters that would entertain me, and I feel the same now. I am an audience of one when I’m writing, and I try to entertain myself.

AJ: You studied at Glasgow School of Art, and are know as a painter with very good technique, sometimes disparagingly in the prevailing artistic climate these days. How important is technique for you?

Molly Innes and Dawn Steele in Cuttin' A Rug © Douglas Robertson

JB: It’s unimportant in that it’s a given for me that I know how to do it. It has always been a means to an end, but if you don’t have it, then it becomes a stumbling block to doing what you are trying to do. I enjoy doing different things and using different media and techniques and so forth. I vary the medium, but the technique is given. It’s like writing without having grammar and vocabulary – you might get through one book in your own fashion, but you won’t go on and write a number of books. Having technique is the equivalent of being literate.

AJ: Finally, John, what are you working on now?

JB: I’m designing the set and costumes for Uncle Varrick, which is going on at the Lyceum in Edinburgh, I’m doing new paintings for a spring show at the Fine Arts Society in London, and I’m writing and illustrating a children’s book for Canongate, all at the same time. The kids were the guinea pigs originally, but it didn’t occur to me to write them down at the time, so I’m catching up with that now.

AJ: How do you work on three such diverse projects at once?

JB: I mix them up quite a bit, and I tend to get round to doing something on each one of them at some point in the day, or night!

AJ: Thank you very much.

(John Byrne spoke to Kenny Mathieson)

The Slab Boys Trilogy plays at the Eden Court Theatre, Inverness, from Tuesday 10-Saturday 14 February 2004.


JOHN BYRNE was born in Paisley in 1940. He worked as a ‘slab boy’ at A F Stoddard, the carpet manufacturers, before going to Glasgow School of Art. There he won a scholarship in painting which enabled him to study in Italy. He then became a graphic artist at Scottish Television and later returned to A F Stoddard as a designer. He became a full time painter in 1968 following his first London exhibition. He is a distinguished theatre designer and playwright. His plays include Writer’s Cramp, The Slab Boys Trilogy, Normal Service, Cara Coco, Candy Kisses, Colquhoun and MacBryde, and a version of Gogol’s The Government Inspector. On television he is best known for his BAFTA Award-winning series Tutti Frutti and Your Cheatin’ Heart. He has also designed for the Traverse Theatre, 7:84, Hampstead Theatre, The Bush Theatre and Scottish Opera. He wrote and directed Boswell and Johnson’s Tour of the Western World (BBC) and the film of The Slab Boys (Skreba/Channel 4 Films).