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Orphans and widows saved my life. I was forced to leave school to work in a dirty, smelly factory in the Gorbals. Not that I was complaining, right enough: I was one of these weans that wasn’t particularly taken by what Lanark Grammar had to offer.If my mum had known where the factory was, I doubt she would have let me leave, but as I said I was forced. The first time I saw the place, after the dirt and the smell, the clatter-clatter of the machines, and the caserooms: one filled with metal letters of various sizes, styles & typefaces; the other cleanly illuminated by a light box that enchanted me. I knew I couldn’t go back to school. Thankfully, I was a late intake, so I didn’t have to do the entry exam that I would have failed, because as I soon realised, I wasn’t very good.modern Scottish design – we are delighted to have a front cover, designed especially for us, celebrating the Timorous quarter century.Having faith in the quality we can find here has been something which Vivienne Westwood has long championed: she was working with materials like Harris Tweed, at the time it was still a cottage industry and not a billionaire’s plaything.As apprenticeships are, you had to serve your time, so there was no working on the light box for me until I’d learned how to typeset by hand, justify lines, and put pages together. And there was plenty learning to be found in the libary that the men who worked the caseroom. One day, I was given a copy of The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists, and suddenly, something that I hadn’t had any interest for me in school was illuminated. I got better right enough. After four years, I was a hot-metal compositor. We were the ‘aristocracy’ of the working class: in the olden days, they’d worn bowler hats to work and were journeymen, never tradesmen. But there was no class system amongst us: the day I became time-served, I was on the same wage as the longest serving journeyman: that’s why we paid our dues to the Scottish Graphical Association.Continuing the New York connection is Penny Arcade, who came again in August to the Edinburgh Festival, where she has been returning for twenty years to perform, and continues to outlast...When Penny was starting out in Cabaret, Joe Mulholland had just discovered the work of Margaret Watkins, as he describes in the piece accompanying the work of this exceptional photographer who, in 1930s Glasgow was producing work that was so evocative of Rodchenko, and deserves the recognition it is slowly beginning to garner.Taking time to learn something like that doesn’t happen enough anymore. Not only is my trade virtually extinct, apprenticeships and the concept of ‘time served’ are disappearing. Sitting down with David Eustace recently, I was struck by what he had to say about those who complemented his work for its ‘old school’ qualities: “Old school is a cop out”.We’re brought straight back to the present with an insight into Neu! Reekie! and their dash around smaller towns in Scotland, which is followed by a poem from NR ‘cultural agitator’ Michael Pedersen, and Kevin Williamson who is time-served champion of the arts in Scotland. We continue down the road less travelled as our Arts Editor Brian McFie treats those who don’t ‘get’ abstract expressionism with the haught disdain they’d probably expect from old gits like him: he’s also introduced us to Ashley Cook, this month’s guest artist.If by old school we mean taking time to train, and learn a craft, then that is something that goes across all makers, craftspeople and the creative industries: those who aren’t old school get found out pretty quickly. Take our front cover. Timorous Beasties’ Ali & Paul left Glasgow School of Art a quarter of a century ago to set up a company making handmade wallpaper, when it wasn’t heard of. Their craft saw them through, and they have built up an iconoclastic, peerless brand that has definedIt has been a pleasure again trying to fit all this time-served talent in to the magazine. I’ve served my time doing the bit in the middle: the part you shouldn’t really notice if I’ve done it properly, even if plenty thought has been put into it.Print saved my lifeCraig Wallace, EditorWELCOME TO SOGO MAGAZINEThe article is illustrated by a portait of Vivienne from David Eustace, whose photo essay appears later in the issue. Leaving a job as a prison guard, he found himself at Napier University, ready to put in time to develop his undoubted talent, and this time-honed craft has since taken him to New York and a global audience.I can’t help it. The widows and orphans who forced me to leave school won’t be found in this magazine, as a good compositor I’m duty bound to go through the text and remove the words left at the top or the bottom of the columns so that the reader’s eye is left to soak up the work: I like to think I was taught well.S O G O M A G A Z I N1 E AU15

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