Celf: National Art Gallery for Wales, commission

Happy New Year, everyone. I hope that you all had a good rest and a holiday! This time of year is tough – I am so glad to be working on the commission for CELF: National Art Gallery for Wales! There are many satellite galleries throughout Wales, and my painting will become part of the collection held at Newport Museum and Art Gallery.

I've been working on and off since November, I say that of course because Christmas and New Year got in the way. The call-out was back in October, and asked for artists to create an artwork inspired by an image in the online collection 'Celf ar y Cyd'.

The image I chose is by David Hurn, founder of the world-famous Documentary Photography course at Newport Art College in 1973 .
It's called, ' Art Lesson by Gerda Roper in the garden of Prospect Cottage'. https://shorturl.at/vNFBC

It shows a brilliant artist and teacher (Gerda Roper) inspiring her students to be fully present and immersed in the landscape, observing and responding to it in the moment.
It's a way of working and a way of life that resonates with me. The river through our city is the inspiration - the dynamic ebb and flow, revealing and concealing, the colours of the sky reflected onto the glass-like surface.
It was important to me that my paintings reference landmarks, shapes, and colours that link to Newport, South Wales.
Afon Wysg (River Usk in Welsh) means 'River full of Fish' and has one of the highest tidal ranges in the world. Not many city centres have such a thing.

“Tourists don't like mud” a friend of mine said about our river. It's a much prettier affair at high tide. When it's low, it has a different feeling entirely. People think that the river's dirty because it often looks brown (it isn't) ,in fact, it is full of fish and interesting plants along the river banks. Each year, salmon migrate from the Atlantic to return to Usk to complete their 'salmon run' having swum thousands of miles to get here.

It's curious to see what gets left behind when the tide is low – discarded bikes, scooters, traffic cones, and of course the ubiquitous shopping trolleys. The river seems to spare no thought or respect for consumerism – spitting these trophies out daily. Sometimes huge tree branches drift along the strong currents. 12ft (approx.) is the difference between low and high tide depending on the time of year. There are 2 tides daily. The atmosphere between the two is vastly different.

The seabirds glide and circle. It's mesmerising. I notice that the birds sometimes play games. One catches a scrap of paper and flies away, purposefully circling avoiding the others who play catch up. Suddenly, it's dropped and another catches it before it touches the water.
They play this game a lot. I stood on as many different bridges as I could, taking it all in – the atmosphere, the misty mornings, when the tide was in and when it was out. I sketched outside and took hundreds of photographs.
I whiled away many hours on the top floor of City Campus and was intrigued with the objects in the Newport Museum and Art Gallery that told stories of Newport's maritime history, and when Newport was one of the busiest ports in the world.

What's the painting about? What do I want to feel when I am making it? What would I hope for viewers to feel when they see it?
It doesn't help to over-think this (I'm good at that), or the end result.

“My current practice explores moving beyond literal interpretations of landscape – in the space between memory and the feeling of experiencing landscapes,” my art statement says...

The challenge I have is to let the painting evolve, yet still be recognisably 'Newport' – the process of painting or creating anything is a bit like holding a bar of soap! I have to hold my intention lightly, whilst trying not to squeeze the life out of it! I have to forget about outcomes and deadlines, and the museum acquiring my work!! I have to park that somewhere else and be completely present in the process.

It's like meditation and a mental challenge rolled into one...I can't be thinking about the past or the future whilst I'm in the zone. Getting back into the zone is always challenging – especially with Christmas recently, but I think that I've gone through stopping and starting so many times that I've realised and accepted that it is all part of the creative process. Even thinking about painting is still work – but it's always best to just start by doing anything.