Dec. 18 2007 the pre-Holiday Blog

NADOLIG LLAWEN

Nadolig llawen means Merry Christmas in Welsh

But have you ever heard the expression Merry Crimbo?

Apparently it’s slang around here for merry Xmas, and one may say happy instead of merry and presents are called pressies –with 3 s’s

Cariadlawn means ‘filled with love’ which is a good holiday sentiment whilst surrounded by family.

For my Xmas plans I’m looking forward to heading to Manchester to spend Xmas with Uncle Kevin and Helen, Great Uncle Jim and others in the large Cooper clan.

I’m also hoping to visit Milton Keynes and Jeff and Carol Birch.

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PRIMAEVAL and GAS


On Dec. 14th at the Morlan Centre a terrific band of 4 played a mix of medieval and modern instruments… and rocked out the house with their amplification for four hours!

Extended jams between hurdy gurdy, bass, and accordion player also on kick drum and a man in a beret wailing away on a traditional horn –which appeared to be made of horn –whilst the dance floor was filled with free styling and interpretations on the dances we had learned during the first part of the evening which was a Breton dance work shop that had begun at 7:30pm


Yes, more pinky dancing… and an amusing grape stomping dance!

I caught the hang of a waltz and the polka –but have yet to grasp the lovely oscillations that are involved in the stately mazurka.

One of the nice things about the Breton dance evenings is that there is always a potluck of free food, snacks and coffee to keep the dancers going. And the kids had pretzel sticks to use as swords and covered themselves in the inked bee stamp that was used to establish paid admission.

My desire to learn to play a hurdy gurdy was once more enflamed –even if a good hurdy gurdy costs approximately $4,000!!!

Maybe I’ll stick to dancing!

I left the dance at about 11:30, emerging, breathe visible into a world of frost and minus 2 or so. Crisp, clear, the stars and moon looking removed, but polished.

I was walking back to good old Blaenwern, with Xiao Fen and Christina whilst looking at my mobile -4 missed messages?! Who could have been calling me?

As I was trying to figure this out we ran into the rest of the Blaenwern gang –they had been evacuated from the building because of a gas leak!

We’d be let back in… in an hour… maybe.
I dragged them all back to the Morlan, where it was warm. Some of them were in p.j.s under their jackets, which perhaps made them unwilling to go to a pub –even if going to a pub in your pyjamas is par for the course in Aberystwyth –the seaside town supports TWO costume shops.

Only a week ago I saw an entire football team dressed as cowgirls in blonde pigtail wigs and ill-fitting gingham tops tied tight around their torsos… it seems it is always Halloween in Aber.

X and C went off to a pub with ‘large couches’ to try to snooze and the rest of us went to Simon’s to while away the time trying to figure out a card game tired students from Britain, Canada, Germany, India and Wales could play.

CRAZY EIGHTS! Slogging through old memories I tried to cobble together enough of the rules for a coherent game. I’m pretty sure I missed something crucial –something to do with the 4s? –we came up with a nice variant with the ace blocking the 2… and Lauren beat us in both rounds.

Rohan and Jude staked out Blaenwern after a certain amount of time and called us when the coast was clear.

It was close to 2am by the time I’d aired my gas filled room out and I haven’t completely closed my window since… I don’t usually close my window completely unless there’s a storm wind.



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SLEEPING WITH THE RED DRAGON




It’s difficult not to think about the red Welsh dragon, and about ideas of identity and how we, and I, define ourselves individually and collectively.

Symbols of Canada and Wales have crept into my art work… and my writing.

the Red Dragon (the national emblem of Wales): y Ddraig Goch
the red dragon will show the way: y Ddraig Goch ddyry cychwyn

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ONGOING POETRY AFFLICTION

PEARGIRL V is going to go to print soon as the Welsh poetry edition. A limited number will be printed in Wales and then the complete run will be produced and launched when I return to good old Canadia.


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I, like the Welsh starlings,
At the sunset’s eve
Return to the idea of the homeland
To which I cleave
Speaking in Babel’s tongues
I remember
I remember

I remember
aelwyd

Invariable as twilight
A mathematical constellation of flight
(dive, ascend, weave)
By instinct
I gather my selves
Under the slate eaves






(Aelwyd is Welsh for home. )


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AND SPEAKING OF ART



“I was temporarily dragged into the theoretical Great Art Sea and forgot how to swim. Thankfully I seem to have surfaced again and am heading back to the studio.”

Waves of critique, from external, but mostly internal sources have assailed me and will either make me stronger, or break me. I think I am stubborn enough that the former will occur, but old enough to realize that a few things are bound to get broken along the way. I just don’t know what.

Rather than ask why we produce art, a different angle on the idea of creativity is: whom are we producing art for?

Why do I paint?

How has something as mundane as applying pigment on canvas to make pictures I make up, that have no inherently ascertained market value, social redeeming qualities or other such promises or some form of merit… how has making silly pictures landed me on the other side of the world?


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RADIO DRAMA

I’m enjoying the Archers –an ongoing radio drama on BBC Radio 4… soap on the radio!

I usually have a radio on in my studio and it’s always fun to hear a bit of the Archers –even if I still have yet to discover what exactly is going on…



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NATIONAL IDENTITY


So far V’s been my good ‘let’s hang out and eat and go for long walks and get lost trying to follow directions on walking paths and try Welsh dance class’ friend in Wales… but sadly she’s leaving tomorrow to return to her homeland –the very cool Iceland-. She’s taking a pile of notes back to the Icelandic president on my humble notions on ‘how to make a country sexy’

The short version of this lengthy media image make-over scheme is that countries (such as Iceland and Canada) need to have cool animals on their flags. It makes tourists happy and makes locals proud. Just look at the Welsh flag with the dragon on it. What could be better?

Canada needs to get rid of the Maple Leaf- it’s far too reminiscent of the fig leaves used to cover statues’ genitalia. A mark of over prudishness that leaf is!

We need to replace the Maple leaf with a Winged Beaver immediately. Canada’s cool quotient would SOAR!

Iceland needs to get those cool creatures off its coins and remarket them as the Storm Bull, Ice Dragon, Stone Eagle and Wise Giant… and get them on the flag. By using all 4 symbols (one for each cardinal point on the compass rose) Iceland will offer a choose your own image form of patriotic identity. With 4 magical creatures to choose from there’s something for everyone.


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DEVIL’S BRIDGE

Because V is leaving tomorrow I agreed on Sat. to go on the trip to Devil’s Bridge quite enthusiastically. Who wouldn’t want to go to Devil’s Bridge?

The event was organized by a Christian social group (I found this out later –but perhaps I should have been suspicious about the ‘free ride’ part – a free ride at topspeed along winding narrow –yet well tarmacked- roads). I realized that though the roads are narrow, they are quality instead of quantity. In Canada we need the extra width to make up for the lack of quality aka: so we have enough room to dodge the potholes.

We met Sunday Dec. 16th at the public parking lot at what is colloquially called St. Mike’s Church (Saint Michael is what is on the signage). I figure if you’re going to be cool enough as a Christian to call it Saint Mike’s, one might as well call it the House of G. G has a lot of houses. He’s big into real estate. Ya –let’s meet at the house of G, yeah, man, Mike’s house of G.

Gee wiz. The dozen or so people were very lovely and I tried to be tactful as possible. I may have pointed out the irony of going to Devil’s bridge as a group of Christians, but I did not wear any pentacles, horns, or flower headdresses, and tactfully answered questions about the (in) frequency of my church going and completely avoided all religious topics.

The bridge was originally built by monks -by there was a fable about an old woman going home with her cow and dog who needed to cross the river. The Devil said he would build her a bridge -but would own the soul of the first to cross the river.

The clever old woman sent her dog across the river first and then led the cow across -so the devil got the dog's soul instead of hers...

Of course this story upset me to no end. She should have driven the cow across first!!


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MILVUS MILVUS


... as the sunset the sheep on the hillside turned PINK!!!! And the Red Kite, also known as the milvus milvus, back from threatened extinction, wheeled in the sky over the valley catching the sunset light with its distinct red and white underbelly, forked tail allowing it rapid manoeuvring…



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HOW TO MAKE A WELSH PERSON LAUGH


Explain to them that the reason you came to Wales from Canada is because Wales seems romantic to Canadians and that the post-colonial identity crisis we exist in makes an international degree be held with more value than a home-grown Canuck degree.



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CANADIA?
Me: Nope. Canada.

Do you say aboot? (asked with snickering)
Me: maybe on the East side of the country? Does ANYONE say aboot?

So you’re from Vancouver -Do you know Mr. Greenwell in Toronto?
Me: May I ask if you know someone in Italy? It’s about the same distance away.
Canadia’s not THAT big is it?
Me: It’s bigger.

Say Crik.
Me: I reckon the crik’s dried up dear Ethel, time to move the RV unit. No one says Crik either. But we do say VASE not Vahwsz and we don’t say
al-YOU-min-EEE-um, and we think the expression ‘someone’s getting on my tits’ is almost as amusing as seeing the young man walk past in the shirt with MANWHORE 22 printed on the back.

You sound like an American
Me: unfortunately I do to some people. Yet over half a dozen people have asked me if I’m Irish. And I can usually tell the people who have BEEN to America, or are from there, because they always ask me if I’m a Canadian.

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GUINESS NO LONGER TO BE SOLD IN DRAFT FORM IN THE UK??!!!

Sales are down and in the future it will only come in a can…. Apparently the real reason is that fewer pubs are able to deal with a beer that is complicated to serve because staff turns over so quickly that they don’t bother to train anyone anymore and so many wait staff will lie and say Guinness isn’t available because they don’t want the difficulty of pouring it, getting it wrong and getting yelled at…

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TWEE?

According to my supervisor my artwork is ‘at its best’ when I am being Twee and I should be more twee… and what precisely is twee?

I have a vague sense of the word… but twee? She deploys the word several times each time we meet –which is only once every 2-3 weeks. Apart from that I am left to my own devices to fill the 287 hours of studio time that is a graduation requirement for Portfolio development.

Art History class –I mean Visual Culture- and Professional Practice are the other set classes, and then there are all the optional lectures, most of which I enjoy.


IN THE WORKS: to produce a Traditional Welsh Smock Frock
To research the links between Canada and Welsh textiles

On Sat. Dec. 1st 2:30pm at the Ceredigion Museum after taking notes and documenting the Smocks textile exhibition (I have an interest in creating a Welsh smock to accompany my Welsh Border Morris Dance kit as I’ve never been certain what to wear shirt-wise under the Morris jacket and after reading that the Welsh smock was traditionally worn for centuries (by men and women) until it began to disappear in the early 20th C (as noted by Gertrude Jekyll around 1814). I’d like to create an ‘authentic’ Morris smock –as ‘Although originally a practical garment it started being used for more formal occasions such as rural weddings, funerals (particularly for pallbearers) and festivals such as Plough Sunday.’

The majority of the smocks were linen and (twilled) cotton in beige/off white tones, however there was documentation of different coloured smocks being associated with the different trades associated with the wearers. The embroidery patterns had as much in common as they did with being unique patterns created by the embroiderers, personalized for the wearers.


I viewed a monologue play written by Liz Jones, performed by Jez Danks on the life of local photographer and painter, Alfred Worthington, many of whose paintings are on display at the museum.


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BUTTONS STRING & WHAT TIES CHARACTERS TOGETHER


At the museum I was compelled to speak to a striking woman who was wearing a peace sign pinned to the top of her hand dyed headdress with a massive pearl pin.

She seemed a matriarchal character… and indeed, she is. We chatted after the play and she gave me her sticker, as she does not have a card. Olwen Davies, recently celebrated her 85th birthday and.. is always a peace activist. Later I read about her a bit more in the local HEDDWCH free paper –part of the CND –campaign for Nuclear disarmament.

I also met a friend of hers named Susan and her partner who have since dropped by the art school twice to visit –once while on the University of the Third Age lecture (U3A) and a second time recently to give me bags of old buttons, embroidery threads and other sewing oddments that belonged to HER mother.

I am THRILLED to discover traditional chalk fabric marking fragments –used in traditional smocking as well as BONE BUTTONS –I’d been wondering how on EARTH I’d find some traditional Welsh bone buttons for a smock, and debating how traditional I need to go with the project and now the buttons have come to me. Oh Happy Raven dance of found treasure joy!

I showed Susan the picture I’m working on –using some of the heritage embroidery wool she’d given me to trace the outline of Wales around the image of the mythical Woman of Wales. I explained how at one of the lectures I was at I learned about this character –which can be seen in the outline of Wales –with a bit of imagination- and she exclaimed ‘I’ve been living here for over 60 years and I never heard of the Old Woman in Wales –but I see her now! Imagine that.’

Tactfully we avoided discussing the dragon and its –um –attributes –which I display in the painting.

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CARDIFF

On Tues. Nov. 27th I went to Cardiff with the Artschool, but broke away from the main group to pursue personal interests: viewing the Cardiff castle, various art exhibits around town as well as the Industry to Impressionism: What Two sisters did for Wales exhibit at the National Museum of Cardiff.

It was a grand tourist-ish day! With all the joy and freedom of random exploration in a strange land.

Six hours seemed like a good deal of time –but it all sort of flew by.

I regret not making it to the area they film Dr. Who in, but there were more than enough distractions in the area we were in. Art shows, carnivals, old buildings, markets, bypassing the slightly surreal 45’ high Santa’s spray painted Grotto… dodging Christmas shoppers…

The Cardiff castle was very inspiring and fun to hang out with V and to meet Max the Russian student physicist working on developing diamond tools for use with lasers –if I recall correctly??!!

It felt like one of those days I’ll always recall fondly. Hanging out with a Russian and an Icelander surrounded by the panoply of European accents on a grey early winter day, map in hand, a fistful of ‘wood roses’ I bought for myself and all the silliness and exploration that we could cram into the day, and still make it back to the UWA school bus, allowed.

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MERRY CHRISTMAS

HAPPY CRIMBO

MERRY SOLSTICE

NADOLIG LLAWEN

&

HAVE A MAGICAL NEW YEAR

MY THOUGHTS ARE WITH YOU

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