A Land of Change

I started writing this whilst sitting in the Pizza Hut on the north side of Caerphilly. Pop music fills the place and I look out over a main road towards modern housing opposite. It is almost deserted, like the hills that surround me. They are hills that must have so many stories to tell about how man has changed the landscape around here over the past 100 years or so.

The two photos show the headgear of Penallta Colliery at Ystrad Mynach which opened in 1905 and closed in 1991; and the site site of the former colliery at Bedwas which opened in 1912 and closed after the Miner’s Strike in 1985. The latter has been cleared of all in the surface infrastructure and is now just an overgrown wilderness. The only main visible evidence of its former existence is the huge waste tip that dominates the skyline for miles around. This also is now being slowly colonised by nature like all the other tips in the area and it is just their unnatural shape on the skyline that gives them away. The landscape is full of reminders of the history that envelopes this area. I have visited this part of South Wales twice over the past month as part of my work and have been trying to understand the landscape here. It has intrigued me but I know that my explorations have only been superficial and there is much more to explore and understand.

I see the area as a place of deep contrasts. If I go for a short walk from the modern grey rectangular industrial unit that has been my base I can walk up a wooded footpath beside a rocky stream. There is a picturesque ancient church with a large overgrown graveyard. I can look out over an expanse of Welsh hills. There is a old farm with rather fragile old stone out buildings. Sheep and ponies graze in small buttercup filled fields. Hedges are unkept and mature trees are everywhere. Yet there are huge modern industrial units hidden behind trees and new housing estates are creeping up out of the valley towns onto the hillsides. Energy generated by the mining of coal has been replaced by electricity generated by many hilltop wind turbines and solar panels scattered over the landscape. Dual carriageways form transport corridors between the towns.

The mining history is disappearing. The hard manual labour that came with the sheer brute force of industrialisation has given way to a digital age. Whereas in years gone by a man would have undergone physically hardship for his entire working day deep in the mines, today the only physical effort required may be just the getting out of a chair to retrieve something off a printer or to go to the loo. This deep history seems almost incompatible with a health and safety conscious society and it feels as if it is being erased from our collective awareness. We move on, the past is in the past. New generations create their own history.

Together with other changes in agriculture and industry, I feel the hills are becoming lonely places, perhaps even a foreign landscape to many who are isolated by modernism in the valleys - or indeed by social and employment deprivation. 

One evening I walked out over the hill towards Bedwas. Within a few minutes I was in another world. I felt like I was on a remote country road in the middle of a deep rural idyll, not a half a mile away from industrial estates, houses and, it seemed, a healthy abundance of police cars! Perhaps it is the topography of the area that makes it unusual. The urban environment is surrounded on all side by high hills like it is cradled in a large bowl. I am aware of the two at the same time - the urban and the rural together, and yet they don’t seem to mix. The footpaths look little used and there is little evidence that the road is used by many people. The hedges are overgrown and full of mature trees, honeysuckle, bracken and holly. I find rivers and streams that seem to appear out of nowhere. It feels an old landscape and one on which it is hard to make a living. It suffered much when the coal mines were active. Now nature is trying to reclaim the landscape, but it still has fight on its hands from the needs of industrial and social development. 

Geology has formed the basis of the formation and development of the area and I much prefer landscapes like this than the chalky flint nature of the east of England where I live. Rock creates hills. It creates stream, rivers and a far more diverse natural history and cultural landscape. Weather patterns are more variable and there is a much greater variety of things to look at and places to explore. 

Dipper Song

The first morning of bright sunshine since we arrived by the river nearly a week ago finds me walking across heavily dew-laden grass down to the river bank. I've not often stayed for a lengthy of time by a river and the constant background tumbling of water over rounded stones is something that has taken a while to get used to. It is a sound that overrides some of the more subtle countryside voices and I am more used to tuning into stillness and silence. There is a constant energy to the flowing water that I am not sure I find relaxing. 

I have made many visits to the water's edge to try and understand the language of the river and see what it might teach me but I am not sure I have really bonded with the place.

Today, the light is bright and the air fresh with summer coolness with the promise of a fine day ahead. As I approach the river I hear the distinctive song of a dipper. Subtle and tuneful, a constant warbling that seems to mimic and merge with the chattering from the river. It can't be far from me and I search along the bank whilst standing motionless. Then I spot the stark bright whiteness of the dippers bib - its dark body merges with the stone backdrop. It bobs around the rocks and then moves out into the shallows and feeds, half submerged in the water. Soon it is joined by a companion and eventually they fly off, skimming the surface of the water upstream.

I look out again and see, about 400 yards downstream on the riverbank a tall slender white object standing in the sunshine. A heron. And then, I see something moving in the water just beyond that. I think it is an otter, but at that distance I am not sure. It certainly isn't the mink we saw here a few days ago. A hurriedly fetched daughter and a pair of binoculars reveals it is a duck, but I am not sure exactly what it is as it quickly disappears. Heron and daughter disappear too and I am left by myself with the river and dippers again. 

The river is a place where there are varied interactions between light and water. A few days ago I was down here in evening watching the sun set between the remains of rain clouds. The sky was full of various patches of pale orange whee the sun light was filtering through gaps in the heaven grey clouds. The river was flowing away from me directly in line with the sun and so this light was reflected in the ripples on the water. It looked beautiful and it felt a privilege to witness this combination of events. Each part of the river looks different depending on how it is observed. I. The shallows before me I can see through the trees to the pebbles about a foot below the water's surface. Elsewhere all the light is reflected off the surface to give a silvery shimmering where the water flows over the shallow rapids. Under the trees in the distance the water looks almost black.

The river is an interesting place. It is always here and yet the water is always on the move and never in the same place again. It is always different. Its calm serenity can give way to viscous flooding. Even in the past few days with just a little rainfall I have observed the height rise and drop again. It is a place of continuous energy, power and change.

River Sunset

A very quick sketch made by the bank of a river near Dolgellau at sunset.

Barmouth, Wales

The harbour made a pleasing place to sit for a while today and do some sketching. For a change I ignored the people around me and concentrated my attention on a pen and ink illustration of the sea-front buildings.

A reasonably warm day had brought out the holiday makers who filled the pavements with their chatter, ice-creams and fish and chips. Sea-gulls eagerly pulled at discarded polystyrene food cartons in order to find any remaining scraps of food. The high street was a busy mix of traffic and people dipping curiously into the many varied shops, many of whom adorned the pavement or shop fronts with tantalising merchandise. As with most sea-side towns it was the shops selling the must-have cheap and cheerful beach wear, bucket and spades and toys that seemed to shout out loudest for attention. All the plastic in the brightest colours you could ever want could be bought there. 

Did I really want to walk past the shops and sidestep burger filled holiday makers for a third time that day? Instead I turned up a small path that lead between two shops and climbed the steep hill that rises sharply upwards behind the town. I entered a different world. Suddenly silence appeared and the hustle, bustle and smell of hot people and streets was gone. Before me was a maze of small paths and steps climbing steeply before me. Slate steps worn smooth by generations of people, high walls that hid tiny gardens and houses that seemed to be tucked into any conceivable nook and cranny of the very steep hillside. There were no roads between the houses, just a maze of paths leading in varied directions. This was a place of angles, curves, twisty tight paths, unexpected corners, ivy covered walls, metal handrails and stunning views. I was surrounded by the architecture of old cottages, weaving stone walls, tumbling steps, rooftops, and chimney pots - all creating an amazing feast for an artists eye.

Everywhere I looked, the greyness of the slate was broken up ivy, hydrangeas, and numerous other seaside loving plants. Colour from wild and garden flowers flecked the walls, gardens and paths. Following on from my previous post about the Centre for Alternative Technology, I made a conscious note of how much the people living here had changed the environment around their homes by adding pots and planters of flowers, garden furniture, driftwood, decorative features and so much more to brighten up the small spaces that were theirs. We have a deep need, wherever possible, to bring nature and/or something aesthetically pleasing into our lives. We seem to want to make some sort of statement - for ourselves and that can be appreciated by other people. I wonder why we do this? Is it that we are attempting to create something we find beautiful? To satisfy a need for fulfilling a positive emotion? Down in the town there was the need to seek gratification for our consumerist and social desire for food, shopping and holiday pleasures. Yet just a few yards away was a world that reminded me of the deep connection that the history of the place has with the landscape. There was the slate industry that created much of this landscape; the steepness of the hill side and the precarious nature of building on the steep hillside reflected the harsh climate, the ruggedness of the people and a community full of history. Looking down at the buildings below me there were many more modern buildings that looked so out of place amidst the traditional architecture that if I were a planner I would not have allowed them to be built nowadays. Not many people would venture up these steps as I did today, but I just took a 'what if' step and it changed the whole view of my visit to the town.

Centre for Alternative Technology, Machynlleth

A recent visit to this place left me very inspired. Although I was interested in the place scientific and sustainability point of view I came away from the place with ideas that were very much in keeping with the way my illustration work is developing. I have been intrigued by the concept of beauty recently and have just begun reading 'Timeless Beauty' John Lane which I purchased at the above place. At CAT my attention was drawn to the great amount of wood that was used in the construction of various buildings as well as for decorative architectural use, sculptures, fencing, garden features etc. It was a good reminder of just how versatile the material is for construction purposes from plant holders to high tech modern building design. I was also interested to see how plants were integrated into the environment either in the organic gardens, the poly tunnels, the forest garden or just wherever they happened to grow. Everything that was growing seemed healthy, lush and full of life and colour.

I found the place quite beautiful and I wondered what it was exactly that I was picking up that caught my attention. I like to see plants growing, yes, but somehow, when plants are growing in conjunction with other inanimate objects then the capacity to arouse a pleasurable response is greatly increased. For example: a wheel barrow and a pot of flowers look fine on their own, but place the flowers in the wheelbarrow and have them all tumbling over the edge creates a visible impression on a different level. It is almost like the feeling one gets when seeing something young and cute perhaps. I'm not quite sure what it is, but it may be the juxtaposition of the natural against something that is often man-made, but not necessarily so. We like to grow plants in pots, over arches, to walls, in old boots, in fancy containers... There is just something about plants that they can so easily create a visual statement when grown in particular ways. At CAT there was so much that caught my eye. There were the structural forms that had been created out of natural resources blending in with the natural growth of vegetables, fruit flowers and wild plants. Nature will always try and reclaim back what was hers. We cannot live in isolation from nature.

I could have spent many hours there drawing as I loved the wild lines, shapes and forms that had evolved in the place over the years. I took some photos to remind me of what I had seen and will feed some new concepts into my illustrations.