Let me guide you there. Just off the A92. From the north, turn right for Glenrothes past the giant Irises (Malcolm Robertson 1988, for the Glasgow Garden Festival), first left along the Leslie Road. St Columba’s Church and car park are second turning off the Rothes Roundabout on Rothes Road. Look for the tall metal bell tower. Or arrive for it chiming on a Sunday, 15 minutes before the service starts. You have gone too far if you are on the St Columba’s Roundabout and spy five red and white Mushrooms (Stanley Bonnar, 1994).

Yes, it is a town literally littered with public art. Abundant and fun. Renown for it. You can give directions by it. Over 170 pieces decorate parks, underpasses, walls, streets, and roundabouts. Historic Environment Scotland has a short guide, or conversely, download the Town Art Trail.

Glenrothes is a post-WWII New Town. Sitting on a west/east axis between Kinross and coastal Buckhaven, and north/south, between Cupar and coastal Kirkcaldy. The Development Corporation was appointed in 1948, so the town will be celebrating its 75th anniversary this year. As part of the celebrations, the artist Stanley Bonnar, who created its popular concrete hippo sculpture 50 years ago, is now working on a commission to mark the occasion. New work by a living artist.

Sadly our artist, Alberto Morrocco died late last century. But his work lives on in St Columba’s Parish Church. The architects were Wheeler & Sproson. The building was completed in 1961, and the internal mural, painted in-situ, was finished three years later in 1964.

St Columba's Parish Church, Glenrothes - External view

The artist Alberto Morrocco (1917-1998), son of Italian immigrants who had settled in Aberdeen, was at the time Head of Painting in Dundee at Duncan of Jordanstone College of Art. A position he had held since 1950. A friend of the architect Anthony Wheeler (1919 -2013) who had also taught as Senior Lecturer at Dundee School of Architecture and was now a partner in the architectural practice he had established in Kirkcaldy. Both men were in their 40s.

“Wheeler’s experimental centrally planned design for St Columba’s Glenrothes (1958-1961) raised the intellectual and architectural level of the Church of Scotland’s postwar churches”. (Royal Scottish Academy)

‘The Buildings of Scotland, Fife’ by John Gifford (1988) describes the church as “Very boxy’’. You do not need to be a veteran reader of architectural guides to know this is not a compliment.

Boxy for a reason, it turns out.

“Churches To Visit in Scotland Guide’ (2003) says it was “designed in conjunction with the theologians of St Mary’s College of St Andrews University with the emphasis on how the Scottish Reformation could best be expressed in a church building”.

It was directly modelled on another Fife church, Burntisland (1596). One of the earliest post-Reformation churches in Scotland and the first to have a square plan.

All equal under the eyes of God, sharing and surrounding the Communion Table. Communion was a weekly event back then. Proscribed by John Knox.

Not only was it modelled on Burntisland, it is named after it. Burntisland Parish Church was originally St Columba’s.

Back to ‘The Buildings of Scotland, Fife’, the text continues: ‘Inside, the N. wall filled with a MURAL (The Way of the Cross) by Alberto Morrocco”.

And fill the north wall it does. It’s 18m long. Almost 3m high. Just under the size of a cricket pitch.

What is not stated or implied is just how exceptional it is to have a massive mural in a Church of Scotland post-Reformation church. A work that would not be out of place in a catholic church. Is there another example? Of this scale? It is a conundrum. How did it come about? How was it commissioned and funded?

Some explanation is given on the weeny brass floor plaque: ‘Executed by Alberto Morrocco RSA 1964 under the terms of The Edwin Austin Abbey Memorial Trust Fund for Mural painting in Great Britain’. Hmm.

The church was completed in 1961 with this extensive north wall, unpierced by any openings, as if ready and waiting to have a mural or piece of art there placed there. Was that always the intent? But initially they didn’t have the funds for one? Questions, questions.

Time to move onto the artwork itself.

The mural depicts the scenes from the last days of Christ. It occupies the whole wall opposite the main entrance. It dominates the church. When I first saw it, it was as if the church was built to display the mural. For the figures are larger than life. Stand beside it and check. Measure yourself up against Jesus, so to speak. It certainly has a distinctly theatrical effect. A floor to ceiling backdrop for worship. Concealed top lighting floods down the scene, which even on a grey January afternoon when I took these photographs, highlights the work. Wheeler’s clerestory glazing flashing splashes of colour as the daylight moves round the church.

The sanctuary has fixed wooden pews on three sides, facing the solidly brick pulpit, sailing like a boat through. Our scene is set, with a backdrop to let you know you know how it will all play out.

But first let’s reel back to 1964 Scotland, when this was painted. The Forth Road Bridge (1964) had just opened but the Tay Road Bridge (1966) had not been built. Morrocco’s journeys to and from Dundee to Glenrothes would have been round by Perth, or by ferry across the Tay. It was a time when distances and travel were longer and available only to a few. Foreign holidays had not taken off for most of the population; the summer heat of the Fife Coast, or Blackpool, would have been more familiar, than the blazing sun of a Mediterranean country. The idea of a country where clothes were light, to remain cool and protected in the midday sun, where faces were permanently tanned and exposed to blistering sunshine, was for most of the Scottish population, just that. An idea.

But Morrocco knew. From the late 1930s when he had won traveling scholarships, he had painted and studied in France, Switzerland and Italy. His paintings are imbued with warmth. Does he bring biblical sunshine into this post-Reformation Scottish church? Well, I’ll let you be the judge of that. He certainly brings an understanding of it to the picture.

SCENE ONE.

Pontius Pilate, white under a white canopy. Facing away from protesters. Talk to the hand. Faces towards us and looks down, as if to divorce himself from this event, his part in it and its history. Gesticulating arms are outstretched to the next scene. Faces twisted in the opposite direction contorted in rage and frustration, clamouring for Pilate’s attention. Do they want this crucifixion, this mortification of Jesus? Or not. Are they angry at his decision, or pointing at the injustice of it?

St John, Chapter 19 Verse 15: “But they cried out, Away with him, away with him, away with him, crucify him”. The crowd are baying for Jesus’s blood. A scene of action and reaction to the events that will unfold.

The painting clearly shows Pilate as a conflicted soul. Innocence marked by his white robes. But still, he is party to this drama. The bowl of water at his feet, barely visible behind the chairs in my photograph was to wash his hands of it. St Matthew, Chapter 27 Verse 24: “When Pilate saw that he could prevail nothing…….he took water, and washed his hands before the multitude, saying I am innocent of this blood of this just person: see ye to it”.

SCENE TWO.

Centre stage. Jesus alone carrying the cross. You can feel its weight. Wood heavy enough to hold a man, heavy enough to burden his straining arms. Bare feet burning at the end of a hot red road. Its perspective carved out of a bleached desert. As if there was no choice in the road to be taken. His all too human frame. Clad in a long white robe. There is dignity, resignation and sorrow etched on his face. His crown of red thorns. Mourners to the left, white and blue. Morrocco keeps the soldiers respectfully behind. Bit players. Walk on parts.

To the right, a goat? The minister told me he has regular debates with a friend about whether it is a sheep or a goat. He believes it is a goat. The shepherd dividing the sheep from the goats. The good, from the bad. St Matthew, Chapter 25 Verse 33: “And he shall set the sheep on his right hand, but the goats on the left”. The goat is on Jesus’s left. It’s a goat.

So, if the mourners (the good) are on Jesus’s right hand side, and the goat (symbolizing the bad) is on Jesus’s left hand side, that makes sense as to how Jesus carries the cross. Cross head towards the mourners (the good). Protecting them from the bad.

Why this long explanation? In an early cartoon sketch of this work, Jesus was carrying the cross the other way round. But let’s move on. Beside the goat a fig tree. Jesus remarked on the fruitless fig tree when he came to Bethany after his ride and arrival in Jerusalem.  Morrocco has painted a very abundant fig tree, a sign of reassurance to lead us into the final scene.

SCENE THREE.

Final act. We are spared the gruesome crucifixion details and Jesus’s suffering. It is enough we see his pierced bloody feet nailed to the cross. The central picture has told us all we need to know. The women in Jesus’s life are clustered around his feet. Last part of his living body to touch the earth.  Only Mary, his mother clad in blue can bear to look upwards, her hands clasped in prayer. The others look downwards or vainly attempt to comfort her. Crowds of spectators. It is a tragic scene, distressed and distraught characters witnessing his death.

And the three donkeys? Or are they part of the ass and colt team Jesus asked the disciples to bring him, for his last ride into Jerusalem? The central creature’s drooping head and neck conveys a resigned sadness.

Is there any relief? A young girl thrusts a bunch of white lilies forward, symbolising rebirth, hope and resurrection.

Reading it as a piece. To the far left, Pilate is fully depicted on his earthly throne whilst across to the far right…

Jesus’s feet. Has he already ascended to heaven? Has he already left the central scene, and the man he was, behind? Morrocco plays with white against blue. Blue against white. Colours of the Church of Scotland. To symbolic effect and give space to read the story.

And those three suns. Judgemental yellow, the inescapable fiery orange, to the final murky grey, ringed in turquoise, as if eclipsed. Darkness falls.

I don’t know what discussions Anthony Wheeler had with Alberto Morrocco about this work, and indeed the involvement of the incumbent minister. Many, I suspect.

What was the process? He prepared scale pencil sketches. Then he did trial colour cartoons. Were there several? Who determined the theme? And before the work was painted directly on the plaster wall who made the final decision? Today you can see wear and tear, and cracks, and where Morrocco changed his mind about which way a character faced, notably in the middle scene. The outline of a face emerges from the back of a man’s head.

I am assuming Morrocco did it himself. No team involved. It looks like it has been painted by a single hand. But how long did it take? All I can envisage are lots of journeying back and forth across the Tay.

As part of researching this article I viewed online a preliminary cartoon of what might have been. A colour gouache which had been up for sale and is now in a private collection. Provenance of the estate of Sir Anthony Wheeler who had it in his own collection until he died in 2013.

This early sketch is a busier, more crowded, seamless affair. The colours flow together. Particularly in the central scene, around Jesus, where people are hemming him in, touching the cross, in a situation which probably would be more accurate to the reality. In the final painting Morrocco has placed Jesus on a virtually empty desert stage. Alone apart from the other players, facing us. Willing us to see his pain. The dark brown cross stands out against the white grey landscape. From the back of the sanctuary it is the first thing you see. Touch of genius.

To quote fellow artist and friend of Morrocco, David McClure: “Alberto painted as an Italian operatic tenor sings, that is with a passionate theatricality and always con brio”.

With Christmas behind us, Holy Week will soon be marked in the Christian calendar. The week preceding Easter. This year it will be Sunday 2nd to Saturday 8th April. Rev Alan Kimmitt said sometimes during that week they would pull all the chairs back and hold a service, talking about the mural and the scenes portrayed. Not sure it will happen this year. But it doesn’t matter. The Way of The Cross will celebrate next year, its 60th year of being very much loved by its parishioners.

Is it loved? The answer came from a lady who has attended St Columba’s since 1969. In all her years she had never heard a word of criticism about the mural. Ever.

Quite a testament.

Boxes often contain gems and this church contains an exceptional one.

St. Columba’s Parish Church of Scotland, Rothes Road, Glenrothes, Fife KY6 1BN

Minister: Rev. Alan Kimmitt

www.st-columbas.com

SUNDAY WORSHIP at 11am (currently alternate weeks)

HAVEN CAFÉ  WEDNESDAYS (held in Church Hall) currently 11.30 – 1.30pm, but check on the website.

My last two visits were on Wednesdays, when I was given access to the church. I suggest giving notice to the minister if there was going to be a group of you visiting, to check it is convenient.

Rev. Alan Kimmitt is very enthusiastic but has a busy ministry to run.

And a small donation to the church, I would say, would be a kind gesture.