Aberaeron & Wales – Pen & Wash

Pen and Wash watercolour from the harbour – Aberaeron … WHB – 2013

ABERAERON is a small harbour town in Ceredigion, Wales. It lies on the coastline of Cardigan Bay looking out towards the Irish Sea.  It has a small but vibrant harbour usually heavily stocked with pleasure boats of all sizes and shapes. There is much extremely impressive and beautiful Georgian architecture to be seen in the town.  Many of the houses have taken on a distinctive look by being decorated in bright colours as can be seen in my pen and wash painting above. The town has the reputation of being “one of the best examples of a planned township of small scale in Wales”.  Today the town, situated between Aberystwyth and Cardigan, serves as a touring centre for the Cardigan bay area of Wales. The town’s name is from the Welsh meaning “mouth of the River Aeron”. 

I include below images of just a few of my pen and wash sketches and two photographs of scenes in different parts of Wales (titles below).  Click on any one to view a slide show of all the images in larger format . . .

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Fishing at Criccieth – Early Morning;
On the Abergavenny – Brecon Canal;
Criccieth Castle; Bishop Rock Lighthouse, Pembrokeshire;
Foxglove nr. Brecon (Photo);  In a Farmyard nr. Brecon (Photo)

THE FORSAKEN MERMAID

Photo: WHB – taken in Aberporth, Ceredigion, on the West Coast of Wales, facing towards Cardigan Bay and the Irish Sea

She emanates wistfulness
melancholy, sorrow
bound to her rock
out of sight of her sea.
Andromeda’s prison
awaiting her Perseus.

She thinks of the sea,
beseeching the ocean,
to roll in and take her
to wash her away
to be lost in the waves
to swirl with the kelp
in that pellucid world
in those welcoming depths
to join the white horses
to laze in the rock pools
bask on the corals
where once were her friends

No coteries here
no sisters, no mermen,
no one to favour her –
offspring or lovers.
That whirlpool which bred her
the spray which had bathed her
sequestrated and gone now
no longer her milieu.

Is this always and ever
is this life’s stricture
retribution for what?
For loving her kingdom
her aquatic birthright?
Or for being in form
not fish, fowl nor fiend?

For living a life
half tide-borne,
half earth-child,
hermaphrodite, epicene,
ambiguous, undefined,
a shadowy being,
crippled, malformed?

Her joy now –
the sunlight,
the breeze
and the dew
the song of the seagull
the far sigh of the sea.

Only these now remind her
of when she was free.

Poem: WHB (Copyright)

Six Pen and Wash Sketches

I reproduce below six of my earlier pen and wash sketches – all my own interpretations of visited scenes from the British Isles

Caldey Island, Wales . . . WHB

An English Dawn . . . WHB

Exmouth, Devon . . . WHB

Glenfinnan, Scotland . . . WHB

Ludlow, Shropshire . . . WHB

Rydal Water, The Lake District . . . WHB

I’m Thinking: A Dialogue

A.   Don’t interrupt me when I’m thinking.
B.   What about?
A.  You wouldn’t want to know.
B.   Why?  Is it a secret?
A.   Could be.
B.   Tell me.
A.   Wouldn’t be a secret if I did.
B.   Now you intrigue me.
A.   Secrets are for keeping to yourself.
B.   Who says?
A.   That’s the definition of a secret.
B.   But if you tell me I won’t tell anyone.
A.   If I do tell you it won’t be a secret any more.
B.   But only you and I will know.
A.   But then someone else might ask you to tell them.
B.   But I won’t tell them.
A.   But that’s what you said to me.
B.   I did?
A.   Yes … And then you told me.
B.   Did I?
A.   Oh!
B.   It’s no secret that you can’t keep a secret, you know.
A.   Is it?
B.   How do you know that?
A.   It’s a secret.
B.   Tell me.
A.   No,
B.   Why?
A.   It wouldn’t be a secret if I did.

 

A Reverie

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Reverie

Woebeguileful
Slake my thirst
Kiss me quickly
But hurt me first

For that’s the way
The cookie crumbled
Feet up first
Safely rumbled

Try to take me
Test my twitch
For as long as it lasts
My heart will itch

So tell me teacher 
Tick my box
No more teasing 
Suck my socks

Test my oompah
Play no tricks
Take the tablets
Have a fix

Rid me of all misconception
Stick my pallid interjections
Take them where the sun won’t shine
No half measures
Taste the wine

 

The Dawn

‘An English Dawn’ … WHB – 1991  ©

 

THE HAIKU

Nature’s steady hand
Its season’s sure permanence
Gives respite from doubt

THE POEM

As the dawn broke
In the pregnant East
And beams of burgeoning day
Stretched across the yellowed sky
The songbirds’ treetop threnody
Broke into my dream

Sleep giving way
And all too soon replaced
In that initial gentle awareness
Of life renewed once more
Its promise and its worries
Suddenly looming large
Within my newly unlocked consciousness
Potently recalling life’s commitments
Compelling acknowledgement
Of my obligations
And accompanied by the knowledge
Of decisions to be made
Promises to be met
Expectations to be fulfilled

Only the guarantee of Nature’s steady hand
Of each day’s new dawn,
Of the cycle of each recurring season
Promising a prospect of its permanence
Thus bestowing respite from our doubts

 

Gwen JOHN – Rodin’s stalker

‘Winged Victory – sculpture by Auguste Rodin… modelled by Gwen John

sucked into his circle
seduced by his attention
the youthful innocent
charmed
awakened
flattered and captured
by his reputation
the innocent ingénue
capitulated
sat
posed
exposed
her youthful innocence
to his gnarled advances
he
an old cracked vase

now linked
to her driven impulsion
her aroused possessiveness
his fate
brought upon himself
his penance for taking her
in her prime
using her
then when she had fully succumbed
to his ardour
discarding her like a broken vase herself
now he was reaping the seed he had sown
being punished in his decrepitude
by her youthful zest
her constant attentions
her clinging ardour
demanding and draining
pressing constantly for his attention
now enfeebling him
the shards of his desire
scattered on the potters floor
Winged Victory de-flowered
disposed of
its remnants scattered
as so many others
the artist’s detritus
swept into a corner of his studio
to take their place
alongside those other rejected manikins
all now redundant.

she became the stalker
the stalker stalked
the predator compromised by his own lust
and trapped in his rapacious past
impotent now and fearful
his winged victory over her
turned turtle
finally repaid
by her triumph over him
resolved only
at his death

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Gwen John (1876-1939) , sister of the renowned Welsh painter, Augustus John (1878-1961),  grew up in Pembrokeshire, Wales.  After leaving Britain for France in 1904 she became first the model, then the lover, of the much-older Auguste Rodin (1840-1917) .  Their relationship lasted a decade and shaped the remainder of the Welsh artist’s life and work.

In her lifetime Gwen John was primarily known merely as an appendage to both her brother and to Rodin.  She died on the outbreak of WW2, unrecognised as a serious artist.  In more recent years, however, following rediscovery of her work by art scholars since the 1970s, her own artistic work has undergone a re-appraisal.  

 She is now considered, particularly as a portrait painter, to be almost on a par to her brother.  In fact, Augustus is quoted as saying before he died in 1861, that “In 50 years Gwen will be better known than I am as an artist”.

The story of Gwen John’s intense infatuation with Rodin can be readily discovered on the internet. 

Gwen John – Self portrait – 1899

Cardiff

[ Photo Blog #45 ]

Cardiff Waterfront

CARDIFF is the capital city of WALES.  It has a very long and fascinating history.  Today I just want to give a brief mention to its waterfront, an area which in recent years has been developed into an attractive and intriguing area with many new buildings, shops, galleries, sculptures and visitor attractions.

The harbour at Cardiff Bay is situated on the Southern coast of Wales, UK.  It has one of the greatest tidal ranges in the world (up to 14m).  This meant that at low tide it was inaccessible for up to 14 hours a day.  However, the Cardiff Bay Barrage was completed in 1999, enabling the creation of a a vast freshwater lake (500 acres) and the development of what is now known as Cardiff Waterfront.  Here can be found the Welsh Assembly Government buildings, the Norwegian Church Arts Centre, the Pierhead Building, Techniquest Centre, the Senedd or Welsh Assembly Building, Butetown History and Arts Centre, the 2000 Lightship, the iconic Wales Millennium Centre, al-fresco cafes, restaurants, and public works of art, giving a truly cosmopolitan feel to the City.

It was here, in the Norwegian seamen’s church, that Roald Dahl and his brothers and sisters, of Norwegian descent but  born in Cardiff, were all christened.  This central area of the Cardiff Waterfront is now named Roald Dahl Plass and is the site of many of the city’s greatest events.

The links between Cardiff and Norwegian seamen date back to the coal boom when Scandinavian ships brought timber for pit props and returned home laden with coal. Churches like this with its attractive white clapboard cladding and pointy spire were built to serve the Norwegian sailors who docked here. Today the restored church features an interesting gallery and a friendly café.

The photographs are by me, taken on a visit to the city several years ago . . .

 

Model of Cardiff Waterfront

The Norwegian Church

Commerative photograph of a portrait of Roald Dahl in the Interior of the Norwegian Church

Commemorative plaque on the naming of Roald Dahl Plass

The Pierhead Building

The Wales Millennium Centre

A bronze of an immigrant couple symbolising the arrival of many to Tiger Bay seeking a better life in Britain.

Female Beastie Bench – Cardiff Bay, Sculpted bench in brick  ‘My Beautiful City of Cardiff’

The 2000 Lightship, a Christian centre funded by Associated British Ports and Cardiff council – now re-sited

Stained glass Portholes on the Lightship

 

‘Thaw’

‘Winter at a Cumbrian Farm’ … Pen and Ink – WHB. 2017

(Poem No.31 of my favourite short poems)

A poem by Edward Thomas (1878-1917)

A very short poem, perhaps the shortest of my favourites.   Unseasonal as it may be, ‘Thaw’ nevertheless merits its place in any list of beautiful short poems, and I do not apologise for including it here, in the middle of a beautiful Spring season.   Edward Thomas wrote some of the finest poems of the early twentieth century, many of them composed between 1914 and 1917, that is during the course of World War I.  He eventually lost his life at the Battle of Arras, aged only 39, in 1917.    He is often thought of as a War Poet, but in fact many of his poems dealt with the beauties and vagaries of the natural world.  Perhaps his best known poem, also short, is ‘Adlestrop’. (q.v.).  Below I quote the four lines of his poem ‘THAW’ . . .

 

Over the land freckled with snow half-thawed
The speculating rooks at their nests cawed
And saw from elm-tops, delicate as flowers of grass,
What we below could not see, Winter pass.

Edward Thomas … 1878 – 1917

Do You Speak Seagull?

‘The Conversation’ … Photo – Tenby, South Wales, 1993 by WHB.

SPEAKING SEAGULL

 

Hello bird

I haven’t seen you here before.

Talk to me

Tell me your story

I wish you could speak to me

Do you speak seagull?

Then you could tell me what you want

I’ve been fishing

You want food, don’t you

I spend my life fishing

I’m sorry, nothing you would like here

And diving of course

Bet you like fish

Can you dive?

And worms?

I was the best diver in my class

Do seagulls eat worms?

And I’m still a beginner

I have got some breadcrumbs

‘Cos I’ve just left school

I’m here on holiday

I’m only two

I’m only seven

I’ve just got all my grown-up feathers

I’m starting big school after the holidays

Better go now

Better go now

See you next year.

See you next year.

I wonder if she really understood me

I wonder if he really understood me

Goodbye … Must fly …

Cheerio … Must go …