#stiwdio maelor

[liz-doyle]

A Poem By Huib Fens

A Poem By Huib Fens

(from my painting  residency at Stiwdio Maelor in Wales, when Huib Fens was on a writers residency)

 Liz and Malachy She has retreated in Wales under rafters, stretching canvasses on frames, boiling emulsions of oils and waxes. She smears and brushes until land appears, still unknown and undiscovered and keeps on working it until it liberates itself from her. Two islands to the west, in the harsh…

[abi-box-scrapbook]

STIWDIO MAELOR 2016

It has been very cold in Corris and I have long forgotten what the tips of my fingers and toes feel like.  I have spent much of my time over the past two weeks improving my fire making skills and it turns out turpentine drenched paint rags make for wonderful firelights.  

I found myself in Corris this November as an artist in residence at Stiwdio Maelor, a modest is-what-it-is residency run by, artist and printmaker, Veronica Calarco.  Corris itself is a small village in North Wales, postcard picaresque and seemingly ninety-five percent made from slate, a local resource.  For coffee, wifi, and homemade seafood chowder, Adam & Andy’s cafe is thirty steps from Maelor’s front door and the Slaters Arms is a dozen steps in the other direction for beers.  And splendidly, that’s about it.  

At Maelor I was joined by writer Earl Livings from Melbourne Australia and visual artist Patrick Manning from Albuquerque New Mexico.  Ma friend Yuki Aruga and I shared the attic space together.  Yuki and I have known each other since we met as students at Camberwell Art College, and more recently we began sharing a studio together back in London.  In the second year of college, when we were also living together, we would spend our time eating ketchup and watching Back to the Future on repeat, and working alongside each other once again, we have found nothing much has changed.

Corris is surrounded by the hills and mountains of Snowdonia.  Yuki and I, plus new friend Rowboat, spent the first Sunday a short drive away, walking part way up Cadair Idris.  As the weather was grey, we didn’t reach the top and stopped at Llyn Cau, where we watched the wind drag hundreds of tiny waves from one side to the other.  While we stood imagining how deep the water might be, the clouds continued to follow us up the mountain and collect, hanging above the lake like steam above a big pot of stew.  Standing there in the wind, we regretted that on the way up, when we had become too hot, we had decided to leave all of our extra layers tied to a fence post, to collect on the way back down.  The weather was dull that day but the colours of autumn were dramatic and loud.

After a long while of working in a studio by myself, it has been refreshing to have another body of work developing alongside my own, as well as nice to have someone to say stuff out loud to.  This year, I have watched Yuki paint taxidermy birds and snakes amidst flowers and foliage, suspended midair they delicately comment on the passing of time, nostalgia… death and other topics related to experiencing existential crises.  My own work is rooted more so in the formalities of painting, although the content is undeniably based on landscape, I am more interested in how I can take it apart.  

While sharing the attic space, Yuki and I also wanted to do something vaguely collaborative, so we chose to keep a joint sketchbook diary, a sort of drawing conversation.  One drawing per day, responding somehow to what the other drew previously.  I found it constructive to have some form of combined and consistent thread running through our time on the residency.  The drawings mostly reflected on our day to day observations, the clouds that followed us on our trek up Cadair Idris, the crystal clear reflection of the trees at Llyn Cynwch, the glowing and slightly charred window of the stove, and the views we enjoyed through the van window driving between Corris and Dolgellau.  

   On our last evening, we did a show and tell, where we shared the picture conversation with Veronica, Earl and Patrick, and last minute special guest and previous Maelor resident, Jess Raby.  In all sharing our thoughts on the diary, it seemed the loose visual exchange seemed to compliment the string of short conversations we all seemed to have had at Maelor.  The words we exchanged when we were coming and going, while taking our muddy shoes off in the hallway or at breakfast waiting for the kettle to boil.  Along with a few lengthier and roaming conversations at the Slaters Arms.   

It was in these moments that we would hear from Patrick about his evening excursions.  Almost every dark wintery evening, Patrick went out walking to take long exposure photographs in the woods.  Bit by bit, we would hear from him about where he had headed, how cold it had been, how he had danced to keep warm!, how peaceful it was in the dark and the trouble he had been having with the windy conditions making some of the exposures blurry.  All the time, constructing in my imagination my own nighttime photography.  

At the show and tell we had the pleasure of seeing some of the images for real.  The dark is delicately infiltrated by the streetlights and the traffic in the distance.  If it were not for the long exposure there would have been very little light visible at all.  Given the time, though, in the photographs, the light gently interrupts and takes on new qualities.  In my favourite, the light appears through the trees like a molten gold lake.

Throughout our stay, we had all taken numerous walks through this landscape.  Often in quiet contemplation, though the tall creaky trees, over the broken slate, damp peat, and springy moss footing.  Yuki definitely thrives on the outdoors and would often go out wandering twice in one day.  I, on the other hand, require dragging out of the house, then, once we’re off, I can’t think of anything better.  I have always been this way given the option between going for walks and exploring or staying inside and making stuff.  I need reminding sometimes that the two go hand in hand.  Cue Yuki avec cattle prod.

    A lot of my recent sketches are full of vertical scribbly marks and look as though they were drawn using a seismograph, recording an earthquake of magnitude massive.  Connections like this alone have an effect on the way that I choose to hold and move my pencil, pen or brush, and in turn, also direct me in terms of what it is that I’m looking to paint from.  Lately, I have been on the lookout for mess.  In Corris, Yuki and I could walk out the front door and be surrounded by the woods in minutes, and the woods were messy.  Lots of the leaves had already fallen, so the trees were naked and spindly, and the branches and forest floor below, littered with the debris.  Across the valley, the terrain was mossy green, brown, ochre and burnt mauve, unevenly knitted together.  Reminding me again, of how much I like Andreas Eriksson’s rugged hand-woven yarn canvas’.  Another kind of mark entirely, I have had an urge to try this myself and I would like to work with these knotty and folded hills.

My work usually hops between sketchbook and canvas but lately, I have been relying more on sketchbooks.  Partly because I have done a lot of travelling and logistically they are easier to take out with me but also because, somewhat inexplicably, it is what I most feel like drawing in at the moment.  Possibly, it is the scribbly nature of my drawings which dictates this preference, scribbling is fast and on some level feels throwaway.

The underlying awareness, for a piece potentially being got rid of, destroyed or simply becoming unimportant on its completion has underpinned a few developments in my work over the past couple of years.  I painted a huge piece of canvas for Iavor Lubomirov, knowing that, ultimately, it would be cut up to become part of a series of collaborative painting-sculptures.  Then, on an earlier residency in Peru, I knew that, given the humidity of the Amazon Rainforest, a few of the paintings I did on sheets of acrylic would never dry in time to bring home.  I found a freedom in making this kind of work.  With the piece for Iavor, knowing that the final outcome was out of my control, I felt at ease taking more risks.  And with the short-lived paintings I made in Peru, the act became about putting down marks purely to encourage me to look harder, a kind of focus I am striving for constantly in all of my work, paradoxically even with the work I intend to keep.  

This might seem to infer that my work is indeed primarily about its subject matter.  Yet, as much as I am interested in looking, looking is also the means by which I arrive at any given composition and collection of marks.  Allowing observation to fully guide visual description, while remaining poetically detached from reality.  Plainly put, the harder I look, the more interesting my drawings and paintings are.

I joke that I make better, more interesting marks when I’m not looking at the page at all.  Yet, so often I find it to be true and for that reason I have been paying attention to it, looking for other ways to achieve a similar effect.  Drawing very quickly, unconsciously scrawling or drawing on top of textured surfaces, interrupting any hope of a straight line.  With these intentions in mind, the rules change again when considering working on canvas and on a larger scale.  At Maelor, I instead worked with the practicalities involved with using the smaller drawings to work from, attempting to reiterate as well as enlarge them onto canvas; finding that, re-articulating in paint, marks made with a biro, has its own set of complications.  

On our last weekend, John and Julie Box (me mum and dad) drove over from York with Rufus (dog) to walk with us one afternoon.  We had been recommended the Precipice Walk near Dolgellau.  Rufus went wild the whole time, which terrified me, as for most of the way round, on one side there is a drop, very steep and a long way down.  And Rufus did not seem concerned.  The nutter.  As we set off late afternoon, the sun was low in the sky, spilling a silver light across Cardigan Bay and all the way up the Afon Mawddach.  Fairly breathtaking.

Pulling into King’s Cross Station, I’m missing the views already.  Hwyl fawr!

Other Residencies

Other Trips

[andrawatkins]

An Ode to Corris Wales

An Ode to Corris Wales

I’m going to miss Corris.

I’m sitting at Idris Stores, having my last morning latte. While I know I can return to Corris, I’m still shattered to leave.

I was talking with Veronica Calarco this morning. She runs Stiwdio Maelor, the residency where I  spent the past six weeks. We’ve both had significant health problems since we last saw one another, and we were talking about stress and busyness and…

[printmakingcentral]

Stiwdio Maelor Competition 2018: Black and White

Deadline: 16th July 2018

In 2015, Stiwdio Maelor started an annual competition, the aim of which is to enable an artist to win an opportunity to complete a residency at Maelor. Each year a different technique/medium is chosen. This year’s competition is Black and White, and we will be accepting entries from all media.

The prize is a two week residency at Stiwdio Maelor with gift vouchers from local businesses.

More here.

[andrawatkins]

On My Impending Welsh Writing Residency

On My Impending Welsh Writing Residency

I don’t speak Welsh. But I’m headed to Wales for a six-week stint as writer-in-residence. Through July 3, I’ll be at Stiwdio Maelor in the tiny village of Corris.

Some quick facts about Welsh Corris:

It’s in the county of Gwynedd, a primarily Welsh-speaking area in northern Wales.

Corris is historic for its slate mining. These days, sheep and logging rule the area.

The village is near the base of…

[printmakingcentral]

Stiwdio Maelor Bursary

Deadline: 2nd April 2018.

Stiwdio Maelor are very happy to announce that each year we will now be offering bursaries to complete a four week residency at Maelor. The aim of this bursary is to support artistic production and to offer a working and living space for creatives.

Details & application here.

[printmakingcentral]

Stiwdio Maelor Bursary

Deadline: 19 March 2018

Stiwdio Maelor are very happy to announce that each year we will now be offering bursaries to complete a four week residency at Maelor. The aim of this bursary is to support artistic production and to offer a working and living space for creatives.

More here.

[liz-doyle]

residency at Stiwdio Maelor in Corris 

A great 3 weeks at Stiwdio Maelor

If you are interested in having some time there yourself for your art (including writing) you can email for an application form to stiwdiomaelor@gmail.com 

The 5 paintings in the top image are all also available through the same email. Funds from any sale of donated works goes both towards the ongoing costs of the residency programme and helps to fund the…

[andrawatkins]

Explore. Dream. Discover | #MakeAMemory

Explore. Dream. Discover | #MakeAMemory

Explore. Dream. Discover. – Mark Twain

Last week, I wrote about my writing residency at Stiwdio Maelor in Wales. I hope I can shrink my backside while making lots of words. If you missed it, catch up HERE.

Garnering a writing residency is a competitive process. One must submit his or her work along with a list of writing accolades and accomplishments. She must have a work-in-progress that meets…

[andrawatkins]

The One We Don't Want To Live Without | #MakeAMemory

The One We Don’t Want To Live Without | #MakeAMemory

It’s only when we start to fag out that we realize the things we took for granted are the ones we don’t want to live without. – Roy Watkins

I’m starting May in an interesting place. In a couple of weeks, I head to Wales for a month-long stint as writer-in-residence at Stiwdio Maelor. I have my own cell, I mean, room on the outskirts of Snowdonia National Park.

I’m not worried about writing. Nope.…

[liz-doyle]

On paper

Run out of canvases and only a week to go at Stiwdio Maelor – so I’m playing on paper

‘Trajectory’ diptych (2 x Arches paper 76 x 56cm) still taped to the table

Another one still in progress

Series of smaller pieces worked together – 6 bits of sugary sweetness! Largest 2 are half sheets of Arches ie 56 x 38cm

‘All things nice… raspberry ripple?’ 2 half sheets Arches – each 56 x 38cm

[liz-doyle]

Ready to go

Hoping to get these 4 framed locally here in Wales. My fingers are firmly crossed that some or all of them will then be sent to Terre Verte gallery in Cornwall for  ‘ Into the West’, the summer group show I have been invited to participate in there

‘Musing’ – 80cm sq

‘Spirited’ 100cm x 80cm

Skylight 1 – 50cm sq

Skylight 2 – 50cm sq

[liz-doyle]

journey inward

These are the 4 stages of my most recent largish canvas It is on coarse unstretched (and creased badly from being in my suitcase) jute canvas about 4′ x 3′

This was actually the second session, I forgot to take a photo of when it was all red and yellow, with a bit of turquoise,  stapled to the floor on Saturday morning

Sunday, more sombre with shapes consolidating

Early Monday morning – loads…

[liz-doyle]

2 weeks to go

I will need the whole of the last week for the works to dry, wrap and arrange couriers or post So starting my last few pieces now. The attic studio is looking very blue!

Filling up!

2 new 50cm panels started with first layers of paint and some contrasting powder pigment

Dawn this morning

[liz-doyle]

Bravery with violet

South gable / newest work

More layers on the ‘Skylight and jeans on a nail’ piece

Corner of finished pieces 2 on paper, 5 on 50cm panels

North end

[liz-doyle]

Skylight and jeans

Interiors today!

2 panels each 50cm sq

100 x 80cm