Interwoven Identities: The City at the Alasdair Gray Archive

Words: Fleur Kas (she/her)

Their exhibition provoked introspection on how Glasgow’s communities are stitched together, untangling an urban tapestry of pride, resistance, and harmony.

‘I’ve never been good at throwing things out. Waste not, want not, after all. But I find it impossible to know what is waste, and what I’ll never want, so I keep everything I might have worth, which is everything I touch.’ These sentimental musings by Elouise Blackburn – the commissioned writer for Holly Rennie Brown’s exhibition The City at the Alasdair Gray Archive (AGA) – capture the importance of mapping Glasgow through a queer, working-class lens, explored through a box of objects co-created by members of Holly’s communities. Holly (they/she) and I met working together at Sugo, where they are a supervisor. However, throughout 2025, Holly was also working at the AGA as a curatorial assistant – a new part-time role created with support from Creative Scotland. Their exhibition provoked introspection on how Glasgow’s communities are stitched together, untangling an urban tapestry of pride, resistance, and harmony.

Paradoxically, what made the exhibition so special to me was its roots in everyday experiences in Glasgow. Rather than commissioning pieces, The City gives meaning to things we use in our day-to-day lives. In a true embodiment of this sentiment, one of my favourite pieces was fellow “Sugo warrior” Josh Dicristofano’s vintage 8-ball jacket, with a beautiful suede patchwork of copper and brown. Considering Glasgow’s rich textile-making and design history, Josh’s jacket tells a queer counter-narrative to kilts and paisley shawls, demonstrating the value of fashion in self-expression and community building.

In contrast, Choirstaidh Nicartair’s pink Gaelic print is more overtly an art piece, yet its cultural significance ultimately radiates throughout the exhibit – quite literally, too, in the reflection of the print off the wall using light. The print was pieced together by Holly’s friend Choirstaidh Iona Nicartair, using spare materials around their flat. In The City zine, Elouise Blackburn reflects: ‘I don’t own the print, I didn’t make that blue flower or write that Gaelic phrase. But I know it […] speaks to the art we make for us, to the art we make to survive, and to the moments when they are one and the same.’ The piece stirred memories of Katie Forbes’ Mitchell Lane murals that we rush past on our commutes to work without a second glance, but appreciate in a different light during post-work pints at Tabac. The rising flower echoes the city’s motto, ‘Let Glasgow Flourish’, making its creation all the more memorable.

Duality was a key theme that stuck out to me in The City, specifically between queer and workplace identities. I’ve always admired Holly’s ability to express themselves in a hospitality setting: their bleached eyebrows were often a point of contention for some of our more conservative colleagues. Yet, there is an inevitable reticence in our workplace identities – although it can be the place to find your people, we become truly interwoven beyond the walls of Sugo. For instance, Ponyboy’s club nights offer a queer, safe space where Holly and their work friends feel welcomed after a long shift, which they pay homage to by including their friend Rebecca’s “homo” neckscarf, as well as a film photo of Ponyboy’s founders Dill and Reece, in the exhibition. The objects in The City reflect the accessibility and innovation of working-class art, with entertainment for queer individuals sought in the hidden threads of Glasgow’s urban fabric.

Beyond The City, Holly shows us dozens of other archival boxes, parts of AGA’s own growing collection that foregrounds overlooked histories waiting to be explored. Alasdair Gray experimented with unconventional ways of existing throughout his life: on his desk, we can see the bones and shells he painted. Gray’s deviation from literary norms is exemplified in works such as Poor Things, with Bella’s scribblings and anatomical illustrations queering the conventions of Scottish literature. Examining the details of Gray’s work also brings alternative histories into focus. Holly recognises a photograph of Alasdair’s childhood flat in A Life in Pictures, which prompts a memory of running through Riddrie in the dark after missing their bus stop. Many of Gray’s character portraits similarly centre those who exist outside social norms, such as Anita, who embodies an alternative punk aesthetic. Moreover, Gray was an active socialist, distributing his profits evenly among his team and donating any surplus to charity. In much the same way that Holly has achieved with The City, Gray dedicated his work to the people of Glasgow, amplifying the stories of those positioned on the margins.

Not only was The City a powerful insight into the intersection between non-normative identities and class in Glasgow, but it also offered an intimate view into Holly’s personal and creative life. Engaging with people within and beyond the workplace, who exist outside dominant social frameworks, helps cultivate a sense of community, offering guidance through the highs and lows of urban living. Following in Gray’s footsteps, Elouise’s zine, alongside the collaborative playlist curated by Holly and their friends, celebrates the contributors and pieces in The City, expanding the possibilities of alternative art forms. Central to this is Holly’s support from AGA’s custodian Sorcha Dallas, whose unconventional approach to curation treats the archive as a living resource that is not gatekept but continually grown through collaboration and shared practice. Thank you to Holly and the AGA for their work, and for reminding us that we are interwoven.