A Plum Crazy Woman in Dingwall

Ever dreamed of opening that little gallery-craft shop? Our Youth Editor, ANDREA MUIR, went one step further and took the plunge
 

IF ANY OF YOU read my account of my trip to a writer’s course in Devon in last December’s issue of the Arts Journal, you’ll know that it is best to keep me entertained.  When I decide that I am bored, must procrastinate, or if there’s a full moon – strange things usually happen….

This time I’ve landed myself right in it.

I was working as the Arts Administrator at the Stables Studios in Cromarty when I got chatting to one of the artists there, the potter, Peter Fisher.

He was busily making his pots and they were stacking up, shelf upon shelf of vases and mugs and bowls in varying degrees of fired-ness and glazed-ness, and dotted around were more pieces, naked torsos (in clay!), beautiful shiny raku vases and these amazing half-alien, half-death-mask heads.

‘Whaddya gonna do with all those, Peter,’ I said.

‘Dunno,’ he said.

‘You wanna put those in a shop,’ I said.

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘But where?’

‘I know,’ I said, ‘shall I open one?’

I know, I know – me and my big mouth…

Well, I know it all sounds a bit ‘WAAAHHHA!’ and not the wisest way to embark upon a business but I have been doing a lot of preparation over the years for the moment when the big idea landed and seemed right.  Believe me!

So, the fact that two months after the conversation with Peter, I am sitting here in O Y S T E R, my very own gallery-shop (say it quickly!), it’s not quite so absurd. 

There has been an empty shop unit in Hill Street in Dingwall for most of the six years I’ve lived in Dingwall.  It looked tired and barren as if nothing could coax it from enforced ennui.  There was a sign in the window saying that it was ‘To Let’ but until my conversation with Peter, I didn’t really notice it.

When I first went inside it felt right – wallpaper was hanging off the walls, old green carpet was stuck to the floor in patches like a noxious fungus, the windows were caked with dirt – perfect!

So with premises found, the next job was to get on the phone to various artists and crafts people in the Highlands and Islands.  Obviously, I couldn’t just sell Peter’s pots – that would have been silly (but could have made for a good name – Peter the Potter’s Potty Pot Shop?) and I had to do some market research.  I’ve done most jobs in my life but actually owning a shop was not one of them.

“I felt as if I had suddenly encountered the world’s biggest trifle and had a teaspoon to eat it with.”

I discovered a great resource – www.craftscotland.org – which lists all the makers and outlets for craft in Scotland, and I and soon discovered that there was tremendous support for an arts outlet in the county town of Ross-shire. I also discovered many people with a passion for their craft and some truly beautiful items being made all over Scotland that could be offered to local people and tourists without having to go to the west coast.

By now, I had decided that it had to be done.  And with my writing commitments with the WEA, Hi-Arts and Channel 4 IDEASfactory to be considered, I realised that once the shop was up and running I could write from there.  Brilliant.

I needed a name.  It was driving me mad for a couple of days.  Then, on a warm summer evening walk (yes, there was one), I had an epiphany.  An oystercatcher was sitting on the roof of an old tin shed and as I passed, it started bip-bip-beeping at me.  The little beggar was almost jumping up and down in a frenzy of wader indignation.  Now, I know that it probably had chicks nearby and was just trying to scare me away, but it got my attention.

‘Mmm’ I said ‘Oystercatcher? No.’ And then all the connotations of oysters came to mind – pearls, treasure, luxury, aphrodisiacs, champagne, and everything I wanted seemed to be encapsulated in the word… O Y S T E R now existed.

The next two months were a clichéd blur of activity.  I would awake every morning at 4.30 am with this pit of dread deep inside my soul.  What was I doing?  What madness had overtaken me?  Was I risking it all? And where on earth would I get carrier bags from?

I felt as if I had suddenly encountered the world’s biggest trifle and had a teaspoon to eat it with.  There was all the physical work to be done, of course – the wallpaper stripping, the painting, the scrubbing.  I had to arrange insurance, bank accounts, stationery, the switch machine, the display cabinets, the flooring, the lighting, the till, the wine for the grand opening.  Fortunately my other half is very good with his hands and he laid the floor and built shelves and we toiled away until midnight every night for a month.

Meanwhile I had to source supplies from all over the Highlands and gradually things started to pull together.

On the day of the opening it still felt like trying to catch jelly in a fishing net.  The opening was scheduled for five pm and at twenty past four – I finally sank into the bath to get myself ready.

Miraculously at five – O Y S T E R was open and it was full of treasure too – beautiful jewellery by award-winning Hazel Passmore from Inverness, pottery from Cromarty and Skye, reclaimed wood-framed mirrors from Linton House, Nairn, original watercolours, paintings on silk, signed limited edition prints by Michael Forbes, bags from Brora, punky sporrans from Inverness, stained and fused glass from Balmacara, dolls, teddies and bothy boots from Poolewe, translucent amber soaps and fantastic fizzing bath bombs from Skye and that naked torso.

O Y S T E R was determined to exist.  It now does and the plan is to bring together more work from further afield but still in Scotland.  So, the call is out – if you would like to have your work included in O Y S T E R, or if you want to visit – O Y S T E R is open.

For further information: 01349 866400 or oyster400@btinternet.com  

© Andrea Muir, 2004