- Location: Upper Colquhoun Street, Helensburgh, G84 9AJ
- Opening times: 4 January – 22 December, 10 am to 5 pm (last entry 4 pm)
- Entry: Adult £14, Concession £11, Child £6.50, Family £31.
- Access: Onsite car parking.
Last time I visited Hill House it was a real mess. Patches of damp stained the ceilings, spidery cracks ran along the walls, the paint on the wood and metalwork was flaking, and rust colonised the latter. I looked at the garden through a closed window, yet could feel the wind as it whistled its way inside. Despite being under the care of the National Trust for Scotland (NTS), it looked a victim of neglect. This was a truly sad state of affairs, as Hill House was the creation of Glasgow architect, designer, and artist Charles Rennie Mackintosh, and it is nothing less than a masterpiece. Yet here it was, clutching a one-way ticket to dilapidation and picking up speed with each passing day. And who was responsible for this calamity? Certainly not the NTS, who, left holding a giant decaying baby, were doing the best they could. Nope, the author of this encroaching ruination was none other than… Charles Rennie Mackintosh.
Mackintosh was a leading figure – if not the leading figure – in the Modern Style which emerged in the UK in the 1880s and essentially launched the Arts Nouveau movement. He was open to the latest technologies, and for the surface finish of Hill House’s exterior he chose the newly introduced Portland cement harling, which turned out to be considerably less durable than the more traditional lime harling. Mackintosh was so sure of his surface material that he opted for low quality but highly porous bricks, thus compounding his error. In essence, Hill House has been under attack by the Scottish weather, particularly the rain and snow since the day it was completed in 1904. In the ensuing century-plus, water has seeped into the walls, causing damage to the rooms and structure. As NTS President Neil Oliver memorably put it, Hill House was ‘dissolving like an aspirin in a glass of water’.
Lord only knows what state it will be in fifteen years on from that last visit, but as I drive up Colquhoun Street I can see immediately that the NTS hasn’t being sitting back and hoping for the best. Hill House now has its own house, a steel mesh construct by architects Carmody Groarke that covers the entire building and, according to a sign, ‘prevents 80% of the rain hitting the sides of the house and 73% from falling on the roof’. Wind however can pass through the mesh and moisture evaporate, meaning that after a number of years the house should dry out and further damage be averted. The Box, as it is called, comes with a series of stairways and walkways, allowing the visitor to walk right over the top of Hill House and see it from angles previously undreamt of. The house looks surprisingly small when viewed from the walkways, but the Box adds a whole new dimension to appreciating this stunning building.
Glasgow shops and museums have been full of Mackintosh-inspired gifts – ‘Mockintosh’ – since the 1980s revival of interest in the architect, meaning that my interest him has been somewhat diluted, but a visit to see the real thing serves as a timely reminder of his genius. Hopefully my photographs will do Mackintosh justice, but I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that his wife, the artist Margaret Macdonald, and publisher Walter Blackie, the house’s owner, were both heavily involved in the design process.
Left: Another view of the entrance hallway; note the ongoing repairs to the three wall panels. Right: Mackintosh’s Modern take on a traditional Scottish Baronial curved staircase.
Two views of one of the bedrooms. The tapestries at each side of the bed were created by Margaret Macdonald.
After exploring the interior, I had a stroll around the gardens where apple and pear trees promised an ample harvest and water lilies crowded a small, perfect circle of a pond. There was a bench dedicated to the memory of one Moira Ward, ‘who loved this house and all Mackintosh works’, and who, at 43, was gone too soon. The bench looked over the garden towards the front of the house so I sat there to marvel at the engineering behind the Box, until I suddenly remembered I knew nothing about engineering so just looked at it instead. I tried thinking of other buildings that, like Hill House, were completely covered over while still functioning, but could only come up with Reactor Number 4 at Chernobyl, and I wasn’t sure if that was still functioning or just malignantly existing.
It started to drizzle so, my reverie interrupted, I headed for the tea room. There had been a steady flow of visitors exploring the house, but the surest sign that an attraction has enjoyed a good turn is the cake display in the café. It was only 2.45 pm, but anyone wanting a plain or fruit scone was onto plums as their display cases lay empty, while a third case contained only two cheese scones. Happily, there were also some empire biscuits on offer, each with Mackintosh designs on the icing; I went for one bearing his trademark rose. After this I had a quick nosey in the gift shop, which, I suspected, might carry its own fair share of Mockintosh. In this I was not disappointed, but the small display of Christmas items came as a surprise. It’s only August, for crying out loud.
Destination or Diversion?
It might only take the casual visitor, i.e., someone with no vested interest in architecture and design, an hour or so to explore the interiors, exterior, and gardens of Hill House. However, it is such a magnificent work of art that it is worth actively seeking out, and that, in my book, makes it a destination.