Myth and Reality in Andy Scott’s Kelpies

By Kasia Middleton

A familiar sight for anyone wandering the streets of St Andrews is the infamous ‘Scottish Shop’, front windows shining with a treasure trove of Highland cow slippers, plush Nessies, Harry Potter wands, and novelty fridge magnets. An abundance of supernatural creatures exemplifies how the commodification of myth in the Scottish tourism industry trickles down into these shop windows, which got me thinking about its place in public art.

I had this on my mind as I asked around my friends for article inspiration. Luckily, as we creep ever closer to Christmas and creativity dwindles amongst deadlines, my demand was met. “Can you think of a piece of Scottish art I can write about?” I have to say I wasn’t surprised with the artwork which formed the majority of answers. Andy Scott’s The Kelpies [Fig. 1] were almost canonised overnight as the piece of public Scottish art, partly because they are visible from the M9, the major road running between Edinburgh and Glasgow. They are two massive horse heads made of steel, and rear up from Helix Park in Falkirk at an impressive thirty metres each. When they opened in 2014, Scott hoped they would “become Scotland’s answer to Antony Gormley’s Angel of the North”. As of March 2024, which was the ten-year anniversary of their unveiling, the Kelpies had attracted seven million visitors to stand underneath and within their giant structures. Scott appears to have succeeded in his mission.

Figure 1. Andy Scott, The Kelpies, completed 2014. Steel, 30m high. Helix Park, Falkirk. Photo courtesy of Visit Scotland.

 What is the allure of these giant horses? I have already mentioned that national touristic commodification of mythical creatures is a well-known ploy in Scotland, and Scott plays with this idea in his Kelpies. They are named after a mythical water-spirit, a shape-shifting horse which appears in Scottish and Irish legend. You may have heard cresting waves referred to as “white horses”. In the stories, kelpies are powerful, and able to assume an alluring human form. Like many a myth, they seem to originate from a need to caution against going near dangerous situations like cold water or menacing people. Robert Burns puts it best in his Address to the Deil (1788): “Then water-kelpies haunt the foord, / By your direction; / An’ nighted trav’llers are allur’d / To their destruction.”

 Scott’s sculptures however, though evidently not wholly realistic in their truncated and hugely enlarged form, as well as their fragmented, cage-like steel bodies, do look like real horses. Despite their kelpie-like dynamism and proximity to water, they are characterised by a certain realism. Indeed, they might be named after mythical spirits, but in reality they are modelled on Clydesdale horses, working animals which powered the canal systems to which Scotland owes much of her industrial and economic history. Indeed, the Kelpies were originally intended to form part of a lock system for the canals they sit next to, but due to engineering concerns their functionality was scrapped. The title of the work suggests a mythical, mysterious meaning behind these statues, and their shining silver bodies, especially at night when they are lit from within [Fig. 2] play into this viewer’s instinct. But, digging deeper, there is a fusion to be found between the mythic exterior of the sculpture and its true meaning rooted in the realities of Scottish history.

Figure 2. The Kelpies lit up in red. Photo courtesy of Andy Scott and Graham Wylie.

The thrillingly named and relatively new academic field known as “monster studies” emphasises the importance of imagined creatures in the human psyche, suggesting that in the liminal space between the binary of real and non-real there is room for a third option: an imagined thing with real impacts. In simple terms, imaginary monsters produce real feelings. Animal geographers have recently begun to explore the impact of this phenomenon, with the obvious conclusion being that mythical creatures are a boon for Scottish tourism.

 The attraction of Scott’s sculptures must therefore, at least in part, be attributed to this ‘Scottish Shop’ mentality, appealing to keen Nessie-spotters who see the horses on their way up to the lochs. But at the risk of sounding like a cynic, I emphasise the point that Scott’s sculptures operate in the third space between water-horse and heavy horse. Mythical though they may be, the feelings they prompt are real. Soaring above the canals of Falkirk, they cannot help but be awe-inspiring and celebratory of the legacy they honour. The more visitors attracted by the whimsy of powerful shape-shifting horses from legend, the more real Clydesdale horses are honoured for their contribution to Scottish industry. Andy Scott sketched it better than I could say it: a little imagination, and there’s always more to something that meets the eye [Fig. 3].

Figure. 3 Andy Scott, What Lies Beneath. Sketch. Image courtesy of Andy Scott Public Art.

Bibliography:

Andy Scott Sculptures. “The Kelpies.” Accessed 2nd December 2024. http://www.andyscottsculptor.com/sculptures/the-kelpies

Brocklehurst, Steven. “The man who created The Kelpies.” 6th May 2014. https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-scotland-27192965

Philip, Lorna J. 2024. “Selling the Nation: The Commodification of Monstrous, Mythical and Fantastical Creatures.” Scottish Geographical Journal 140 (3–4): 474–89.

Visit Scotland. “The Kelpies Turn 10.” 19th March 2024.

https://www.visitscotland.org/news/2024/kelpies-10th-anniversary