A
psycho-geographical tour of Mwyn HQ. In response to a request by Glyn Davies to write a blog, so here we go let's talk art ....... written over a couple of weeks as we decide where the prints are to hang. We are the curators of our own bunker, where we plot and pot cultural ideas in the garden of revolt.
The Sex
Pistols and The Clash informed my politics in the late 1970’s. Jamie later became one of my dearest friends.
Anhrefn was my life from 1980 – 1993. These framed prints remind me daily of
why I do what I do. Just like being a gardener, not a translator, transplanting
ideas into the Welsh cultural landscape. I once declared one of my many
retirements from Welsh Rock’n Roll was in order to do some gardening.
Sure there is
also a Catatonia disk for 600,00 sales, another reminder of careful nurturing
of those young plants. There are also Swci Delic cushions, a fresh new flower
in the garden.
See @SwciB
I am a
collector of sorts, a fan certainly. I add Glyn Davies, two limited edition
prints in fact, to the garden of revolt.
A different room.
Recently we
went on a quest for an old battered ‘Salem’. It had to look old, it had to be
antique. It cost £40 from an antique shop in Penmaenmawr, found in the back of
course, on a drizzly Saturday afternoon – result ! It goes with the Welsh
ladies cushions (Hywel Edwards @hyweltedwards) and with the print of Thomas Jones’s ‘Last Bard’. This room tells us that Vosper
and his Devil shoal, the suicidal bard facing the forces of Edward I, have all
brought us here, they have brought us home. Where we are and who we are.
Another room.
And so I
venture in to Oriel Ynys Mon, for the Glyn Davies exhibition ‘Landscape Figures’ (subtitled nudes in the
landscape). There are a lot of pictures.
Too many to process in one go. I decide on the first love approach, no
analysis, just go for the ones I really like. Call it gut instinct. After three
visits I have not really changed my mind. Chatting to Glyn and learning the
context means I only love them more.
My eyes are
drawn to two photographs. The spiritual place that is Ynys Enlli and a
landscape that I know very well, Mynydd Mawr, Mynydd Grug, Mynydd Eliffant (should
have inserted a.k.a).
Enlli is a
magical place, of course it is, 20,000 saints, St Mary’s Monastery, the Bronze
Age (?) cairn on the summit. That has to be the one I say. The figure is athletic,
toned and blonde – not particularly Welsh in the traditional sense – but it
works, the sculpted body, arms outstretched, standing tip-toe - she welcomes this
spiritual place.
A funny thing
happened on Facebook. Glyn almost introduces us. I don’t want to know this
figure in real life. No names. No close-ups. This is just an imaginary figure
in a spiritual landscape. In the same way I don’t really know Rossetti’s
models, names yes if they are Jane Morris, but I will never get to have Sunday
tea with Janey. It has to be unspoilt.
You see this
has to be a magical world, nature’s sculptures, landscape and human, beautiful
yes and beautifully captured by Glyn – but don’t make it too real. Glyn has
steered clear of tattoos and body piercings. He has steered clear of face and
identity. We are left then with real places, that we recognise, but figures
that we do not know, do not recognise.
I buy two
prints. They are called ‘Darganfod
Paradwys’ and ‘Cyn iddi Dywyllu’.
The second
print is the more Welsh. The dark brooding figure of Mynydd Mawr. The dark
figure almost butt deep in the bog. I imagine she is a Rhiannon, straight out
of the Mabinogi. Dark windswept hair. She is by far the oldest model. She is by
far the best sculpted body. Lived in. Strong. Broad shouldered. If the youthful
blondes give the landscape a spring feel, light and a bounce in its step – this
Rhiannon is time eternal, the old “Welsh Mam”, someone who could have walked
past the window in a Kate Roberts scene in olden days.
The two
prints contrast – the old Wales secure in its legends and myths. Autumnal. And
the youthful blonde, arms outstretched embracing the warm winds that blow from
Enlli – I am reminded that there is not one Wales. There is no copyright on
Welshness, Welsh culture, this place. Diolch byth.
They balance
the moods.
Nest my wife
and I spend a Sunday afternoon, arranging and re-arranging. The Enlli ‘Darganfod Paradwys’ has to face Enlli. It is given its own
west facing wall. We decide, that this is enough for this wall.
Parlwr
We are drawn
in a different way to ‘Cyn iddi Dywyllu’ ,
we both recognise the same moods, moods for different rooms. The Rhiannon lady
has to be in the parlour (study). We have not finished arranging this room but
this is where she will end up.
I show these
prints to my dear friend David Dawson, an artist and photographer, and I am
reminded by David that it takes time to get art hung in the right place, and it
might move with time. He is right. This is the fun, we can curate our own art
garden. Nothing is static or permanent. Like the flowers in the garden. They can
be moved. But, when we find the space, we know, at least for a time.
The anonymity
is a strength in these characters. To know real persons who work and play and
do ordinary things would be too much of a distraction. If I meet them, what do
I say? “I love your picture”. I do not know them, it should stay this way.
Like a Goscombe John or a Rodin they shall remain silent and haunting.
Everything is left to the imagination despite the nudity.