Ymdawelwn

A series of poetic responses to The Language of Clay, composed by Mererid Hopwood.

Ymdawelu

Ingrid Murphy | Gweledig ac anweledig

Ac yn awr

yn ein tai o glai 

goleuwn ganhwyllau ar allorau oer.

Wedi’r awr waith,

cawn groesi’r hen drothwy -

y gorwel rhwng sŵn a thawelwch.

Cawn ddiosg y sgidiau baw a’r sachell

a gadael i gellwair fflach y fflam

ein tynnu’n nes, gam wrth gam.

Cipiwn yn ôl i’n cwpan aur

eiliad gatholig

y dod ynghyd,

â sêr ar y rhimyn,

yng ngheg y nos 

mae blas serameg.

‘Ymdawelwn’, 

meddai’r llwch wrth y llwch.

Micki Scholessingk | Pridd tân a halen

O Bridd, (1)

nid oes ynys

lle mae’r nos yn goleuo’r niwl

a’r niwl yn tywyllu’r nos.

Ni allai’r ia ar allor yr haul

ddal ei afael.

Y tir sy’n las -

fel erioed -,

a rhwng braenar Ebrill a braenar Mihangel, 2020,

a’r boreau braf yn bwrw ofn

wawr i wyll,

daw’r gwanwyn a’r haf 

ac ni chyll yr halen ei flas.

Rhaid cario coed i’r odyn,

cynnau’r tân.

Ac, i gyfeiliant clatsh gwreichionyn,

o’r tir hwn dan ein traed -

y clai lleidiog, gludiog -

crëwn lestri glân.

Drwy’r ia tawdd, daw gwydr y tir

â desglau hardd wedi’r disgwyl hir.

1.  Gweler y gerdd O Bridd yn Dail Pren gan Waldo Williams 

Anna Noël | Chwedleua

Yr oedd Anna, ferch Nadolig, 

yn Frenhines 

ar Ferwallt Llancyngur Trosgardi.

Ac un prynhawn, yr oedd yn un o’i llysoedd

o’r lle y gallai glywed y môr. 

(Wel, bron iawn.)

A chyda hi, roedd Iorwerth Llŷr a Gwilym Ddu

a gwyrda a gwreigda heblaw hynny,

fel y gweddai

o gwmpas Brenhines.

A chyda’r hwyr,

â nhw yng nghwmni ei gilydd,

dechreuodd amser

chwedleua

am fwch a charw a sgwarnog a cheffyl a chath a chi ... 

Ac yn yr ymddiddan

diflannai’r oriau

nes dod blaidd.

Ac mewn un defnyn, 

daliodd eiliad fach ei hanadl yn dynn,

a cholli ei llais.

Mae yno o hyd

yn fud mewn swigen grog

yn disgwyl llafn llif y funud

i’w hollti’n rhydd ...

Pop!

Kate Haywood | Olion

Ffurf ifanc sydd i’th ffurfafen,

ond eto, pe bawn i’n eu datod, 

y ffurf a’r ffurfafen,

gwelwn ynddynt olion ffordd

ddechreuodd ymhell, bell 

cyn bod lliw na llais,

pan oedd y lle yn dywyll iawn

a’r llall yn ymwahanu oddi wrth yr hyn,

fel y dydd gwyn

oddi wrth y nos.

Ac ar hyd yr hen ffordd 

cawn ffosiliau cysgodion.

Maint beth? Llond dwrn?

A phob un mor rhyfedd o gyfarwydd

â’r trac yn nghledr fy llaw.

Justine Allison | Rhwng Llinellau

‘Mae gen i gyfrinach,’

meddai’r siwg wrth y seld,

‘wyddost ti beth sy’ tu mewn i mi?’

‘Fedra’ i ddim gweld,’

meddai’r seld,

‘dim ond un llygad sydd gen i,

un crau yng ngraen y pren,

ac rwyt ti, Siwg y Canol, yn rhy bell o’m llygad fach i.’

Ond pan ddaeth dydd y dwsto,

cydiodd dwy law’n ofalus yn y siwg

a’i symud ychydig.

‘Pst!’ meddai’r siwg wrth y seld.

‘Ti’n gweld fi nawr?

Edrych! Y tu mewn!’

Ac yn wir, roedd yr ongl rhwng llygad y seld a’r siwg

yn berffaith,

a chraffodd â holl nerth ei gweld.

‘Twt! Dim byd!

Rwyt ti’n gwbl wag!’

Meddai’r seld rhwng siom a gwawd.

‘Rwyt ti’n siwg fach grand ond cwbl dlawd.’

Wfftiodd y siwg y sylwadau cas,

‘Cyfrinach yw cyfrinach!’

A dechreuodd amau 

nad pawb sydd o dras

y gwybod, 

ac amau efallai

mai dim ond rhai all weld

ei bod hi’n dal yr haul

yng nghanol y seld.

Anne Gibbs | Llonydd

Ac yn awr, 

wedi’r gwanu a’r rhwyllo,

wedi oriau’r nodwyddo,

wedi curo’r clai yn ddalen denau

a’i euro’n sglein,

pwyll piau hi.

Cei osod â dwylo delicet

y darnau cain, cywrain

mewn llif o olau croyw –

fel y mae gollwng cwrwgl i afon.

Yna, cei ddadweindio’r edau,

a gadael y desglau i bysgota’n bryfoclyd 

am belydrau aur,

nes daw awr eu hailangori

â blaen pin.

Ymdawelwn

Trosiad o A Callarse gan Pablo Neruda

Ac yn awr, beth am gyfri i ddeuddeg

ac ymdawelu - bob un ohonom.

Am unwaith ar y ddaear,

beth am i neb siarad mewn unrhyw iaith,

am un eiliad, beth am i bawb ymatal, 

rhoi’r gorau i chwifio breichiau.

Buasai hi’n funud hyfryd-felys,

heb frys, heb beiriannau,

pawb gyda’i gilydd

mewn anesmwythid sydyn.

Ni fuasai pysgotwyr y moroedd oer

yn dolurio’r morfilod,

a buasai triniwr yr halen 

yn edrych ar ei ddwylo clwyfedig.

Buasai’r rhai sy’n paratoi rhyfeloedd niwclear,

rhyfeloedd nwy, rhyfeloedd tân,

buddugoliaethau heb neb yn goroesi,

yn gwisgo amdanynt ddillad glân 

ac yn mynd am dro gyda’i brodyr 

dan y cysgod, a gwneud dim.

Peidiwch â’m camddeall, 

nid diogi diderfyn sydd gen i fan hyn, 

byw yw gweithredu, a dyna ni;

does a wnelo hyn ddim â marwolaeth.

Ac os na allen ni’n unfrydol

newid ein bywydau gymaint â hyn,

efallai y buasai’r gwneud dim am un waith,

efallai y gallasai’r tawelwch mawr

dorri’r tristwch hwn,

y diffyg-deall-ein-gilydd gwastadol

a’r bygwth-ein-gilydd â marwolaeth,

efallai y gallasai’r ddaear ein dysgu ni,

pan fo popeth yn ymddangos yn farw

ei fod, wedi’r cyfan, yn fyw.

Ac yn awr, rwyf am gyfri i ddeuddeg,

a thithau, ymdawela, ac mi af.

 Unexpected Impact

The legacy of ‘The Language of Clay’, written by Alex McErlain.

To speak a foreign language

in your own tongue.

No, not just one 

but a number of languages.

Korean. Old English.

Mineral. Manual.

The different and difficult

dialects of fire.

Opening lines from ‘Hidden Syntax’ by Christopher Reid

Christopher Reid’s poem ‘Hidden Syntax’, composed in 1997, was written to accompany an exhibition of work by the potter Jim Malone. Reid highlighted the complexity of understanding the many aspects of the potter’s concerns who worked in what then was known as the ‘Anglo Oriental’ style. He tried to show the audience what the potter was grappling with to find his own ‘voice’ with which to express himself. The series of exhibitions formed under the banner heading ‘The Language of Clay’ also took on the challenge of helping an audience develop a deeper understanding of the complexities of contemporary ceramics, this time in the 21st century.

The exhibition curator, Ceri Jones, must at the outset have pondered what impact her idea might have on the prospective audience but I wonder if even she foresaw the impact it would have on all the participants including makers, writers, gallerists and filmmakers. The notion of the exhibition series was a good one, bringing forth a broad range of possibilities in a number of linked shows. However the challenge was considerable and many people had to be brought together to work collectively in order to achieve a demonstrable success.

The artists selected were diverse in their practice, ensuring strong material for interpreting the overarching theme of the language of clay.  The chosen artists were also at differing stages in their respective careers which brought another dynamic as younger artists viewed the prospect of measuring up to established ones and probably vice versa too. When I visited Micki Schloessingk she was relishing the opportunity to explore some new ideas that had been in development and challenging herself to make a coherent show that would feature the new with the established. It was also a moment to remind the broader ceramic community that she was continuing to develop as any really good artist does. At the other end of the spectrum, emerging artist Kate Haywood was facing a challenge (not without trepidation) of developing a large body of work for her first major solo exhibition, a show that she was aware might eventually have a significant impact on her career, (it did). Each artist in turn rose to the occasion and produced an exceptional group of work which in itself showed the benefit of the collective challenge inherent in the curator’s plan.

Perhaps the most important part of the project was the ability to communicate about the ‘language of clay’ to an audience. Audience development was noticeable for this series as the current thirst for subject specific knowledge about ceramics increases. The experience of building an understanding of contemporary ceramic practice was enhanced by the diverse approaches to interpretation undertaken alongside the exhibitions. Each exhibition contained an interpretive catalogue essay where several writers brought their own distinctive viewpoints to the exhibition theme as well as the artworks and subsequently created a series of differing ways of understanding the language of clay. Films added another dimension and it was noticeable how there had been an interaction between filmmaker and artist to capture the essence of the subjects working situation. The films were a key part of the exhibition experience providing context for the visitor and a legacy for the project. Collectively all this input added up to a fascinating visitor experience and when the artist attended to contribute to the conversations a dialogue easily developed which is a sure sign of everyone doing something right.

Curatorially the series offered not only stability in programming but an opportunity to develop exhibition design creatively to make each display adaptable to the differing venues. Artists often commented how different their show appeared in each new venue. It’s always a challenge to adapt displays to the physicality of a space but having a series of shows over an extended period encouraged invention and flair from the gallerists. In addition, having a thoughtful and meaningful series of connected exhibitions enabled audience building and outreach work, increasing connections with the subject from across the region and generating sales both during the exhibition and beyond in the gallery shops.

It is my firm belief that this innovative series of exhibitions has collectively had an impact far beyond what individuals may have perceived when agreeing to engage with the project. Cross fertilisation of ideas amongst a disparate group of individuals was enhanced as the project progressed and ideas were tested and responded to. Analysing the impact of this inspired series of exhibitions and noting the myriad learning outcomes, surely begs the question why not put into practice some of the wealth of learning by exploring the language of thread/wood/glass/metal in future exhibitions.

- Alex McErlain.  March 2020