Neville Rae: National Monument
Until November 1; Sierra Metro, Edinburgh

In Edinburgh’s less than glamorous port of Granton sits a lighthouse, some way inland. With its decorative Victorian brickwork, and its massive glass lantern, it cuts quite a dash amongst the grey industrial streets of the harbour area. Known locally as the lighthouse, it was in fact the depot of the Northern Lighthouse Board until 1975. The warehouse was used to store supplies, and the lantern for testing bulbs.

The forces behind Granton’s ambitious regeneration project have their sights set on the lighthouse, as a conference centre and performance space. Just around the corner lie thousands of luxury flats built by developers. Behind it is a street of former council flats whose residents were told several years ago to expect demolition in advance of regeneration. Following advice not to spend any new money on their homes, all they have seen so far is degeneration.

Against this backdrop of uncertainty and scepticism, two optimistic young artists have taken a six-month lease on the lighthouse, and christened it Sierra Metro. Financing the gallery from their own earnings, Martin Minton and Janine Sproule aim to provide an experimental space for artists at the start of their careers, free of public funding constraints. It’s a brave, perhaps foolhardy, move. Four hours into their first day, they’ve welcomed a total of seven visitors into the gallery.

But that doesn’t come as a surprise; the young gallery directors know their location is a challenge, and kick off their programme with a cheeky dig at the area’s would-be regenerators. Neville Rae’s five MDF sculptures tell the story of real local landmarks; of monuments which have seen better days; of public art which will never see the inside of the public purse.

Unfortunately, unless you’re a local of Leith or Granton, you’re likely to be left in the dark. The exhibition is something of a lonely squatter, abandoned without interpretation, in danger of being unloved.

Rae’s first sculpture is a homage to the Cavorting Sailors of Leith’s Junction Street. The three life-sized figures were placed next to the public library only six years ago, made from the toughest material available, but still they have been badly vandalised. Rae’s clay model is a replica of one of the sailors, with wire armature left where his hands had been, and a lump of concrete where once he rolled a whisky barrel.

Two further sculptures play on the name of the local area Swanfield, setting porcelain swans, broken and dripping with glistening enamel paint, on modernist low reliefs. The kitschy black swan, its paint pooling around it, is more of a visual pun rendered a-la Jim Lambie than a serious piece of social critique.

The most poignant of Rae’s works – if you do your homework – is one called 35 Crewe Place. It is more or less a box; a model of a building with a flat roof. This was a block of flats which, on 29 September 1940, was hit by a bomb jettisoned 20,000 feet above, by a German pilot on his way back home. Three people were killed, two of them children. Another 30 were injured. The flat roof serves as a reminder of this tragedy, making it a monument more genuine than anything the regenerators are ever likely to dream up.

Catrìona Black, Sunday Herald 19.10.08