The Flying Scotsman framed and ready to be neatly displayed in two dimensions.
Telling anyone that you have access to the Flying Scotsman – that’s a conversation stopper; ask the public to identify a locomotive – that’s the name they’ll give you.
We could talk about the people that worked on it, the technical tweaks, how it fits together and why good Welsh steam coal is a joy to chuck in its belly. For me, the name also conjures up feelings of anger and bewilderment.
The Flying Scotsman is currently undergoing a massive stripped-down, every-last rivet-checked restoration. The aim is to get this magnificent fire breathing monster back where it belongs – roaring along the rails for all to see. But 10 years ago the fate of this loco was decided through last minute appeals and, a bit of seat of the pants decision making.
In 2004 the auction houses were buzzing when two objects came on to the market – one a small oil painting, the other a full sized working locomotive.
The picture was small and old, possibly painted by Raphael in 15th century Italy and known as Madonna of the Pinks. Raphael was enormously productive, running an unusually large workshop with over 50 artists, and despite his death at 37, a large body of his work remains. Many of his works have survived and can be seen, along with thousands of other paintings, at the Vatican and in galleries around the world. Some of them are very lovely, some not so, any way there’s a lot of fancy wall hangings out there and we’re all rather spoilt with choice when it comes to naming a favourite.
The engine was the sole survivor of its type by the great British railway designer Nigel Gresley. You might not recognise the craftsman but can probably guess the title of his work. Just like the picture it too was built in a workshop with many different craftsmen all playing a role in its creation. However this masterpiece hadn’t spent its life just hanging on a wall, it had covered over two million miles in service, transported and touched the lives of thousands of ordinary people and was the first steam loco to officially run at 100 mph.
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In steam, in action
Pictures can touch the heart, they can stir emotions but a loco assaults all of your senses. Be you in a carriage, standing on the footplate or stationary, watching as it surges through the countryside, it demands attention. Perfect strangers will feel an overwhelming desire to wave at it. At the station, you can wander over and feel the heat being given off from the boiler, hear the heart beat as the steam is forced round and jump when the whistle blows. Millions of people have experienced a personal connection with it and it ‘s got to be the most famous locomotive in the world.
The price tag on Raphael’s Madonna of the Pinks was £22 million and lead by the art experts, the national funding bodies paid up with little hesitation.
£2.3 million was needed to safeguard the Flying Scotsman but even at this knock down price it did n’t just fall in the lap of the National Railway Museum. With a deadline to met, they had to raise a third of the cost from the general public chipping in and Richard Branson ended up writing a big cheque. Every decision has had to be justified and additional funds sought. Restoration costs will end up being around £3 million for a fully functional, completely overhauled, mainline steam locomotive. The nation has got itself an absolute bargain at only 20 %, that’s just 20%, of the cost of one small Italian painting.
I don’t understand why the fate of this iconic object was ever in doubt, why a massive amount was demanded for a private, religious painting and yet millionaires weren’t fighting to save the ultimate steam machine.
Why does our Industrial Heritage come at such a low cost?
I think people are probably scared by it. With a painting you buy it, pay the annual insurance premium and stick it on the wall. It’s un-demanding cultural taxidermy. Visitors can float by, admire your good taste and weigh up whether to have another canapé.
Big steam stuff demands your attention and tests your understanding of a very different world. It’s tempting to give up, the technical nuances are daunting and the ethics involved in restoring versus conservation are complicated. The visitor experience is distinctly more bacon butty and warm beer than champagne, but then most of us are distinctly more butty and beer than cold champagne .
The Flying Scotsman as a locomotive and a piece of art is an immense challenge but the satisfaction when it rolls out under its own steam – that’s not something you can ever buy with money. It’s going to be amazing.
Claire Barratt
January 2013
Claire Barratt 