BOOKS 68/ FOOD 70/ RAOES 72
BEIND THE SCENES
614;?“ we»: 99: J, , ~‘ w:
Sara Villiers at the Italian Centre, where commercial artist Jim Calder turns pristine pillars Sistine.
‘Frankly, this cosmopolitan claptrap rings rather hollow when we don’t even have an Italian Centre!’ I
bitterly remarked to an unemployed friend from Easterhouse, busy shooting up at the time. ‘Mamma mia!’ he cried in exasperation as he lobbed a brick through a kirk window, ‘let me show you the Cafe Qui which is a formalist edifice of just such design.’ Having casually extracted the finances for said venture from a passing pensioner, Sebastian (as his parents, in a fit of
cultural hysteria, recently rechristened him) sped us towards the Merchant City in a hijacked Black Maria.
Suitably enlightened, I enter the chic cafe and descend to the bar in its bowels, where the madcap world of Jim Calder awaits me. Amidst the atmospheric lighting a [a glowworm, jazzy-blues a [a Volkswagen ad, and chisel-cheeked waiters a la Once
Upon a Time in America, Jim Calder, a commercial artist from Fife, recreates scenes of the land that brought you Tuscany perfume. Black Box and Mussolini on the walls of a converted Glaswegian warehouse.
In the noble tradition ofAlexander ‘Greek’ Thomson, Jim has not, technically speaking, actually visited
the country of his inspiration. But his D
The List 12 — 25 January 1990 67