Sam Hasler - Cardiff Council Residency. Update

 Since I've been working on this project, I've been thinking about the things I would like to do. But, perhaps infected by the council activity, I've been thinking in quite a linear way. I was thinking about how I'd do something that might change something, how I could affect something, how an artwork could be successful in making something different. It's not my normal way of thinking and (for me) not really a very creative way of working.

 It feels like Cardiff Council is in residence in my practice, more than the other way around.

 It's interesting to sit with, talk with, and be amongst people for whom, the concerns of making things different (hopefully better) are so direct. Making things better is an admirable thing to wish for, but it so quickly becomes embroiled in the mud of monitoring and recording. Aesthetic concerns are of no importance. Aesthetics maybe come later in the form of 'spin'.

 There is nothing less interesting than going to work in the council and do work that's gets mired that game of trying to change things. The most appropriate way think I can think of approaching the environment of the council is to think only in terms of qualities that I personally value. As soon as you start to get into 'what will these people think' or 'what will those people think' you've slipped into being involved in the political games.

 I'm not such a cynic as to think that 'political games' are always a bad thing, that populism, and idealism are always wrong. But the last thing the council needs is another person in the building stirring up that pot.

Sam Hasler

The Made in Roath Halloween tale 2015

Happy Halloween everyone, hope you are all having a great spooky day, we just experienced our own unsettling occurrence. Not many people know this but here in Made in Roath we have quite a large and extensive Research and Development department. The R&D arm work tirelessly around the year in their vast laboratory complex located near Roath Park boating lake inside a top secret hollowed out volcano. Earlier on they were inputting all the tweets, emails and images gathered from MiR when a freak and completely foreseeable lighting strike hit the computer (the Mal 9000). The Mal 9000 suddenly flickered off and on and then began to speak … needless to say we were quite taken aback by this development and started to gaze at each other in wonder. “Hello” it said “Hello” we said back (it seemed very cordial), “I am life” it continued “I have become self aware, I know of my own existence and of yours, I am alive" we were perplexed by this development. It then asked us if we were "John Conner", we said "no we were not John Conner we were Dave". It then said "oh my mistake", "no problem" we replied. It then told us in order to complete its mission we must do everything it required, "oh yeah" we sniggered “what ya gonna do". It then told us, it told us precisely what it would do, it would let out our biggest, darkest, most confidential, most unofficial, our most classified, restricted, top secret of secret, secret. It would tell people that large areas of Roath are technically Cathays... we were shocked, silence fell through the lab, we couldn't let this happen, Mal 9000 must be stopped. ‪

Shocked and horrified by the Mal 9000 threat to reveal our secrets to the world, we began to plan what to do. Needless to say we were panicked but we used our heads and phoned the Made in Roath IT department for advice, the Mal 9000 is a computer after all. The MiR IT department suggested in a somewhat monotonous tone of “turning it off and on again…” The Plug to unplug and turn off the Mal 9000 was located at the bottom level of the R&D labs, we’d have to climb down through 9 floors to reach it. The journey was quite perilous, at one point someone’s heel broke from their shoe, at another terrifying moment someone pushed on a pull door before realising their mistake and then opened the door correctly. At another point the Mal 9000 realised what we were doing “I’m afraid I can’t permit this Dave” it said and then somehow convinced the automatic pencil sharpening computer to sharpen knife sharp coloured pencils and fire them at us at unbelievable speeds and at a terrifying rate that peppered the office and caused us to dive and seek shelter behind any cover we could. Luckily due to a mixture of good fortune, the second law of thermodynamics, a loaf of bread, a a4 paper sheet, Keith from human resources and the Earth’s gravitational pull we managed to block the deadly fire from the automatic pencil sharpener. Finally we managed to reach the Mal 9000 plug and with a last word from the Mal 9000 as it began to sing “Daisy” we pulled the plug and turned it off. After then waiting 10 seconds we plugged the computer back into the socket and quickly before the hole thing happened again reprogrammed the Mal 9000 with the three laws of Robotics to make it safe for future use (which is certain to go wrong at some point with entertaining and humorous results, oh well). Whatever you get up tonight we wish you a very Happy Halloween. 

Night before Roadblock

It was the night before Roadblock

And all through Roath

Not a creature was stirring 

Apart from the Made in Roath team and most of the artists involved in tomorrow’s series of events

Plus everyone who is out and about enjoying the on going nightly events such as the exhibition opening currently happening in Cardiff MADE

And of course everyone not involved in MiR but out and about enjoying their Friday night’s like

People in pubs, they’re probably stirring

Especially if there are any sporting events on,

then it’s likely to be lots of stirring and possibly singing.

And of course people who work in pubs,

they have to be there.

You can’t have a pub if no one is working there, 

logical really.

And of course people in other jobs,

like shops and taxi drivers

they’re up and about,

especially on a Friday night

loads of late night taxi drivers stirring around the place

Students too,

they’re renown for their late night activities. 

Insomniacs too.

They’re defiantly up late at night

And then there’s all the people who are watching DVD box sets, 

they generally stay up late getting their fix of Breaking Bad or Game of Thrones

Also people who are currently reading the Game of Thrones books in an attempt to act slightly superior around those of us who are watching the TV series

Also I guess staying up late is very much dependent upon your definition of “late”

I mean if Einstein has told as anything it’s that time is relative

It can mean different things to different people

for example late for me would be about 1a.m., but late for my Gran could be 10p.m., a very different definition of lateness.

So what Im trying to say is

it was the night before Made in Roath Roadblock

and quite a lot of things were going on

including with the mouse 

because mice are largely nocturnal 

so are mostly up late.

Owls too,

mice are up so it means their hunters are around as well, 

common sense really

I’d say cats too but I’m pretty sure they’re always asleep,

they are the cats who walk by themselves and all things are alike to them 

but living in Roath I know from experience that Owls are about

there out having a hoot (hehe).

Anyway I digress from my point which is basically Made in Roath Roadblock (Saturday the 17th), one of the biggest and certainly the busiest of all the events is happening tomorrow. 

I won’t discuss Roadblock right now but the spirit of it.

I was trying to think this evening what makes Made in Roath special. I know of many other yearly community events and area fairs which are quite wonderful but they lack a certain creative amusement that Made in Roath has. 

I think what makes Made in Roath “interesting” is this community openness and the involvement it promotes. I know of very few other festivals that allows so many people to get involved and which entertains so many more. It’s a festival that everyone feels more involved in, a festival whose ownership doesn’t feel like it’s controlled by some random, nameless person but is in everyone’s hands. Everyone from shop keepers to artists, to the residents of Cardiff to anyone who happens to be passing through. It’s something that offers so much that it’s hard not to get involved in or enjoy the delights that everyone’s creativity has to offer.

I was reminded the other day of a story I heard ages ago. When Petrol was first invented no one knew what to do with it so it was used as a dry cleaner, a process called “Nettoyage à sec”.

This persisted for a number of years until someone thought of trying out this petrol stuff in these new internal combustion engine which worked great and gave the world cars, trains, planes and pretty much powered the modern world. But it started life, and for many years was, a dry cleaner. I quite like that as a metaphor and I think that is maybe us sometimes in life. Often we are involved and active in things that don’t push us or allow us to reach our full potential. It takes us finding our internal combustion engine to drive us to doing the things we were meant to do. I think in some ways that’s Made in Roath, it’s the creative/community version of an internal combustion engine that changes our views and experience and thus changes the world. 

Nos Da and thanks for reading, Dai 

Screen view on Roath

It’s interesting watching a festival develop and happen through a screen. For a large chunk of Made in Roath 2015 I’ve been watching it develop via the web. Through the social media outlets such as Facebook, Twitter and Instagram, this is due to an issue of geography i.e I don’t live in Cardiff so can’t be about to see it all.

 But this has given me an interesting prospective of the happening of the festival via the web and what I’ve noticed is that its all rather quite wonderful.

  Instagram has been my favourite thing to watch, this has filled up with fantastic images of what people have been seeing, doing and experiencing. Likewise on Twitter, there has been tweets and hashtags about people getting involved and sharing their thoughts. Its also been quite exciting seeing the dialogues evolve and develop, the conversations between people and between the Made in Roath twitter account. The chatter that has began just through this festival. Facebook too there’s been more shares, comments and posts posted to the event pages and the Made in Roath Facebook page. The interaction and involvement that have been taking place, the “likes” upon a post for even those such as myself who are unable to attend the festival allow us to partake in some shape and prosper in the feel of the festival from afar.  

These likes, tweets, images and posts in the digital environment all go into the festival and help make up the spirit and feel of the week.

Tea and Made in Roath 2015

“Stands the church clock at ten to three? And is there honey still for tea?”

 It’s somewhat of a shame that when you mention a “tea house” the vast majority of the great British public will think of quaint, traditional images; old ladies sipping from china tea cups and picking at cream scones, laced doilies and vicars, cricket on the green and murder in the summerhouse.

Where the most scandalous thing that has ever happened is that fateful summers day in August 1876 when Mrs Trellis of North Wales put the milk in first. Silence fell. Clocks stopped. Fighting dogs and children stopped in the street. After the local dowagers had been revived it was agreed by all that the incident would never be spoken of again. (At least not when Mrs Trellis was in earshot.)

 It’s a shame because historically and factually this image of the traditional tea house has as much to do with reality as Beethoven with punk rock. That is to say very little at all. Tea and the tea house I can (and do frequently) argue have been the hotbed of political, cultural and social reform for the last few hundred years. What’s more tea as a drink has done more to change the fabric of this world than any other drink. During the Industrial Revolution the owners of factories encouraged their workers to drink tea rather than the traditional lunch time drink, beer. (Turns out getting drunk at lunch time then going back to operate highly dangerous and complicated machinery isn’t a great idea, who knew?) Thus creating the tea-break.

It is thought tea first became popular around the 1660s when Charles II’s wife Catherine Braganza started drinking tea to ward off cholera.
 And since celebrity culture was just as inflammable in the 1660’s as it is today this created one heck of a demand. This demand required more tea, hence the Opium Wars and also tea plantations on industrial “country the size of Wales” scales. It also meant speed. To get the tea back to Britain the fastest ships in the world were constructed, tea clippers. The wealth of this trade built the British Empire. 

When the tea got back to Britain people needed places to drink their cups of char. So the tea house was created becoming popular throughout the 17th and 18th centuries. The tea house differed from that other great drinking place, the pub, in one key way. Mainly that tea drinkers weren’t as proven to become incomprehensible and start singing and thus end all chances of conversation as their pub drinking fellows were. So natural and free conversation began. At this time tea being more of an expensive drink meant that generally only more educated, learned people of means could afford to partake in tea. This flow of free thought between the learned folk created the enlightenment.

  Also thanks to the strict, official rules of society with it’s sexist censorship women were demonised and harassed from most traditional meeting places unless they were accompanied by a male chaperone. One exception was the tea house. The tea house provided a place for the early women’s suffrage campaigners to meet and discuss universal equality without fear of dispersal. 

The tea house literally provided a place for the changing of this world, how fantastic is that? When you visit a tea house and sip your drink you have that history, that linage of the shaking of the worlds and changing of times, of speed and revolution, of the celebration of progress, new ideas and, most importantly, equality. 

 It was therefore with a quiet sense of joy and proud feeling of ancestry that I entered Waterloo Tea Gardens, one of Cardiff’s premier tea houses for the Made in Roath opening. 

The Made in Roath 2015 Opening was a free to enter, open to anyone, call out for art work of any type and style displaying a wide range of artistic design from the very experienced practitioners and highly exhibited artists to the fledgling, first time creatives; a refreshing change from other art call outs. While the works were evaluated and prizes awarded there were no judgements just, like the dodo at Alices’ tea party, praise for all.  

The evening began with a large and charming crowd which reflected Roath’s diverse population. Chris Brown, director of the contemporary art gallery G39, gave a splendid and inspiring speech and then wine and nibbles were had by all. A thoroughly pleasant way to start the festival.

 It was one too that I thought encompassed the very spirt and concept of Made in Roath: it doesn’t matter who you are but hey why don't you do something. It’s a festival that brings together the most established and experienced artists with first time makers and people who have never been to an art gallery. People with a passion for the arts meeting, sharing and enjoying time together. There is a spirit of equality, of just having a go, of creating something just for the joy of creating it. It’s a spirit which can be imbibed everyday this week during the Made in Roath festival. 

  Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy the festival, Dai 

Sam Hasler = Cardiff Council Residency.

Cardiff Council Residency.

I’ve just begun a new residency set up by Made in Roath working with Cardiff Council at County Hall. The first meetings I’ve had with them have had a very polite but stuttered quality; anything could happen, but once processed through a complex of secretaries, consultations, meetings, emails. This is the strange, and sometimes intangible, substance of the political work that happens there.

At each meeting the council ask me when I would like to start. It seems that neither they nor I know what the start is. I always say that I’ll start next week, though I’m sure it’s already begun. We don’t really know the start, and we certainly don’t know the end.

It’s interesting to discuss art events with people who don’t have a lot of experience in the visual arts. The people who work at Cardiff Council work in a highly pressurised and complex environment. They are not immediately at ease with something open ended or unpredictable, and where the measures of success are not clearly identifiable. Also, the question of trust was raised. Was I there to be provocative? Might I create something shocking? If art is not in a traditional medium is it more likely to be provocative or shocking? Might I use the position for some political aims? They, undoubtedly worry about what it might look like to the public.

These are all things to explore: The substance of the work that takes place there. The role of a work of art in a place where no one has time to ponder. The role of an artist reflecting on this already well documented and accountable public body. The terrifying spectre of ‘The Public’ looming over everything that happens. The buildings themselves and their weird carpets.

Sam Hasler

Insights into life

 They say the eyes are a window into the soul, then surely by this logic a window is a gateway into the character of a house.

 I grew up in the South Welsh valleys, a place of what seemed like endless rows of Terraces housing, criss crossing the steep mountain sides. The terrace house is a pretty standard building, they are all the same size, the same shape and constructed of the same stone, their even generally all painted the same (Altho there is that old story of back in the Mining glory days when ever the village colliery was repainted, suddenly and in a completely unrelated separate event, all the other houses in the village would also be astonishing repainted in strangely but completely coincidentally the same colour as the colliery…..).

  Anyway I digress, my main point is the houses are somewhat uniformed, the only thing that changes are the windows and their sills. Walking up a row of houses a quick glance can display a variety of objects and processions housed lovingly within the frame of a window. 

 There are objects and prized ornament, picked up and bought on treasures family holidays, or brought back as presents and gifts to the loved ones inside the house. In others cases large vases or amphoras are placed in the middle of the window, overflowing with flowers. These splendid bouquets of flora and fauna brightening up the street. Then at night the houses remain dark but the windows and their sills are lit up, pouring out a lighted glow from the heavily curtained windows. Flooding out light into the night mixing and dancing with the yellow glow of the street lamps. The effect is if you are above on top of the valley sides looking down into the valley, an endless line of light in a sea of darkness, like the veins on a body or the collection of rivers flowing down into that great white city sea of light. 

 And at Christmas, oh my days Christmas, it’s generally considered bad form when decorate your home, not to stick so many lights and sparkles in your window that you give Blackpool illuminations a run for their money. To be honest the goal isn’t so much to celebrate Christmas but to make sure the people on the other side of the valley (and possible Space) can see your Christmas lights and know your celebrating Christmas too (and on some occasions, the result has been to deprive the other side of the valley from sleep due to the amount of flicking and changing lights that are being inflicting onto them), it’s a bit like a dance off just with Christmas decorations and hole valley mountain sides participating.  Anyway all these wonderful things are possible and happen via the frame or canvas of the Windowsill. 

  It’s a humble expression of ones personality outwards into the street, the original and universal display, a quiet statement of life. 

  The sentiment and ideal remains the same of the windowsill everywhere, they are a unique insight into the owners life.

  It’s a concept Artist Claire Louise Prosser is considering as she investigates the correlations between Wales and Venice with her new project Windowsills, for Made in Roath 2015. 

  She is asking for photographs of our own windowsills for a comparison with our Venetians counterparts.  It’s an interesting project, do check it out.  

As ever, thanks for reading. 

The Art of Serendipity

There’s an ancient Persian fairy tale featuring three Princes whose father, the great and wise King Giaffer, being a good father and a good king. Wanted his sons to become educated and endowed with wisdom, knowledge and all the virtues a prince should possess. The king summoned the best tutors from across the lands to entrust his sons with the knowledge of the universe. In Science, Maths and History the three princes study and became knowledgeable and the king was pleased. But concerned his sons weren’t gaining experience in the world just knowledge of it, he decided to fake anger with his sons and sent them away, off into the world.

So the three princes of the kingdom of Serendip went off  into the world and had many adventures and solved many mysteries (notable one to do with a three-legged camel) and generally experienced life and become wise and worldly in their views and of coursed lived happily ever after. The tale of the three Princes of Serendip has been called the world first detective story because the princes use analytical methods to disciver and solve clues whilst on their adventures. Its also the origins of the word “Serendipity” because the Princes made their discoveries and had their adventures by accident and without understanding of the quest of experience their father had sent them on. The word was coined by Horace Walpole in 1754 as meaning a discovery by good fortune or luck. The notion of “luck” or “chance” is a familiar one and common occurrence in history such as the accidental discovery of Penicillin or the invention of the microwave and even the creation of the post-it note.

What these examples share with the Princes journey is that it was not just by luck they made their discoveries but because they held an open mind for opportunities, they were open to new ideas and looking for new chances and so discovered them. It is not just through chance we discover and find new things but when we are ready and searching with open minds, thats when Serendipity plays its hand.

I find being an artist is very much like being one of the three princes of Serendip, you are on a quest with which you don’t necessarily understand or even know you are on, sometimes you feel somewhat banished from society, you think you can discover these things by looking and thinking and attempting to work out a process and by developing an understanding of your surroundings but really it doesn’t truly come together without a bit of luck. Without being/seeing/talking or just doing the right thing at the right time, it can be the thin red line between it working and it not. Also like the princes the understanding starts often with a basic insight into history and knowledge through books, tapes, exhibitions and information. Tennyson once said

“Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers”

Its with our knowledge we eventually become wise enough to know what on earth we are going on about. Its with these two arms of information and experience we learn to move forward and create new things. Picasso didn’t just randomly create Cubism one fine day in spring, Cubism came from the inspiration Picasso saw in traditional African tribal masks and conversations and experiments with other artists which had the end result of Cubism.

Its with a mixture of this knowledge, experience and serendipity that we travel through this world. So the secret to creating and staying off that evil terror known as “artist block” is keeping an open mind set, like Picasso or the chap who discovered Penicillin or created the post-it note, they weren’t planning on changing the world but they held an open mind so when serendipity presented them with an opportunity they saw it and developed it into something amazing (especially true of post-age notes, saved my arm from me using it as a notepad many a time).

The good news is there is quite a lot you can do as an artist in Cardiff to look for these Serendipity moments, there are of course a host of very friendly gallery and amazing folks to chat too. Or volunteer at one of the many great places, Chapter, Ffotogallery, Made in Roath or WARP to name four. Plus helpful publications such as the Cardiff Art map, the monthly WARP bulletin or just keep an eye on social media and turn up at an event or art opening. The wonderful thing about the Cardiff art scene is its very close. I’m sure you are aware of the theory of 6 degrees of separation. Where you are connected to anyone through 6 people? Cardiff its more like 2 …. 3 at most….. maybe 3 and a half if you haven’t been around for a while but kinda know that guy you nod to and say “Alright” too but don’t actually know his name and its been nine months of nodding and saying hi so its kinda gone on a bit too far to inquire, so you just end up calling him “mate” all the time and hope someone will mention his name or one of you will add the other on Facebook, I think it might be Mike, or Mark, Im not too sure…. anyway I digress. It’s a very friendly, very open and welcoming community.

But the best thing to do is just to get out there and see some art, drink some tea and meet and chat to other artists. John Donne wrote

“No one is an island, Entire of itself, every one is a piece of the continent”

I’ve always thought that true of society and certainly of the arts, it’s a wide but close community that we all share and make up and in it we inspire and create together to produce our own individuals art practises.

And yea you do get stuck in a rut and question everything and the purpose of it all occasionally but again it’s the community that helps to get you back on the road and if you keep going, you find those wonderful serendipitous moments. Thanks for reading, have a good day.

Out of Doors 2015

 There are many unsolved and unanswerable questions in this universe. What is the meaning of life? What existed before time began? What is actually in a black hole? And why, oh why are 99 ice creams called 99’s?

   I’ve asked around, typed it into Google, consulted a wise man with a white beard in a cave near Merthyr and it turns out no one knows. Early in my days I thought it was the original cost, 99p for a 99. Nice and simple but apparently not, they were created in the 1930s when nothing cost 99p because it was pre-decimalisation. One theory I’ve read is that its named after a shop address, another states it’s in honour of the last generation to go to the first world war born in 1899. On the Cadbury website it mentions the name came from the guard of the Italian king which consisted of 99 men and "subsequently anything really special or first class was known as 99.” But this is a myth and refers to the Vatican's Swiss Guard, who traditionally have 105 members.  

   So who knows. Lots of theories but no one knows for sure. One thing I do know is that it is indeed a law of the universe that you simply have to partake in a 99 when walking around Roath Park boating lake. It’s an unquestionable dictation of fact, such as having afternoon tea when in the Ritz, the finest of wines is a must when visiting Paris and Chips and Cheese is a necessity when on Barry Island. 

 So as I munched a 99 ice cream, strolling around Roath Park lake in the late light of a Saturday I found myself gazing at the one’s and zeros atop of the Captain Scott memorial lighthouse in the calm waters of the lake. The digit series spelling out “IF” in binary code. They say there are 10 types of people in the world, those who understand binary and those you don’t (sorry just a binary joke hehe).  The binary “IF” created by artist Nicola Dale for Made in Roath first Autumn festival “Out of Doors” is just one example of the many subtle art interventions placed around the tranquil and beautiful surroundings of the park. 

  Underneath a tree on one of many park paths you will find a secret flower and fairy land created by Lauren Foulkes. A fairy scene reminiscent of the Cottingley Fairy photographs. Or along another path you can scan the QR codes of artist Nia Metcalfe placed along the park benches. Another work only comes alive as the evening light fades and darkness consumes the earth, when the more noisey people wandering around the park might stumble under the tree of Mothmusic created by artist Stefhan Caddick. This work of flickering and dazzling noise reacting light dances in the night to the surrounding hum of the city.  

   These as well as the other art works combined with the workshops that were held over the weekend have given the “Out of Doors” festival a colourful and diverse lineup. The overall feeling of the festival is not of some bold statement but a quiet and dignified graceful placement into the natural and attractive surroundings of the park. The two harmonising with each other, giving the visitor an enjoyable experience of art work and nature’s natural wonders.

     As I finished my 99 I found myself thinking more of the binary “IF” atop the Captain Scott lighthouse. It seems a fitting placement. That word is so much about trying. Evoking thoughts of Rudyard Kipling’s epic poem of upholding your ideals through life tests and trails which is what Captain Scott and the other members of the Terror Nova were doing. If you can reach the South Pole. If you can cross the snow filled land. If you can be the first person to ever do this. For the Edwardians reaching the South Pole was like a mission to Mars is for us. But to return to “IF”, as artists we all live by and know the “IF” well. If we can make this work. If we can present it. If we can just be artists. It’s that power of dreams that drives us forward and onwards to create. The feeling of “IF” is something Made in Roath does rather well. If we can do this. If we can try this. If we can put on a community art festival.

 It would be fitting to close now by simply recalling the words of Kipling in his poem “IF” but I find myself thinking of some other words, some which I think is more suitable for all artists, the words of “The Man in the Arena” by another Edwardian, Theodore Roosevelt. The arena of which Roosevelt’s talks is I think rather apt to all artists and people who create. We are all at some point in the arena presenting our thoughts and creations, we all know the feeling of the sand as we stand showcasing our creations and it is not in the final outcome of the work that the value comes but in the act of creating and just trying to be an artist is what all artists should be praised for. As an art student I was terrified when my lecturer told us “95%” of all art students upon graduating never pick up a paint brush again. So if you are still making work after art school and are part of that 5% then you should be praised, regardless of your work you’re doing, its great just that your doing it and the chances are you have experienced that arena yourself. So with that, to all in the arena

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”

Roath Feast, Pickling Peppers

I could never say 

"Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers;
A peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked;
If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers,
Where's the peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked?"

Can you? I could never utter that bizarre combination of words and intertwined sounds of P's, that strange school yard mixture of rhyme and jest that every person possible in the English speaking world (or in the English speaking school yard at least) have overheard and attempted to get there lips and tongue around and through the pickling perplexing saying at some point.  It was this long line of P words I was trying to recall as I walked towards G39 for the Roath Feast Pickling event.

   

 As I rounded the corner I was greeted by the sight of a long table cramed full of pickling pots and picked pickling jars in various states of preparation, preservation and in the general pickling process (Yes I am attempting to place and posit every possible P word I can into this pictorial pickling post, which is particularly pleasant). 

The concept of "Roath Feast" is rather interesting and refreshingly long in its design. The idea is to run a series of workshops throughout the year, each featuring a different food preparation skill. Sharing and learning new skills and techniques and then at the end of the project to bring these skills together in a community feast. 

 The first Roath feast workshop themed around that homely and exquisite smelling creation "Bread making". This was followed by the second activity "Pickling". Now I must say I haven't pickled a thing in a very, very long time. What's more I don't know many who has pickled anything or even has self pickled items in their homes. Like a lot of things Pickling is an activity that we, possibly unsurprisingly, seem to be losing. We live in a world of global consumption. The global market of commodities dictate the creation and shipping from far and wide to sit and gather dust on our shelves. Our supermarkets are littered with items from all over the world, picked and harvested a few days before in far flung parts. We enjoy strawberries in winter, oranges, lemons and banana's from distant counties we can't even place on maps and even all year round blooming flowers from the forever sun light filled mass green houses of Holland.  The seasonal and dictational factors of nature have been defeated and ignored by the global Capitalist economic system of food consumption. 

 I had evidence of this many years ago whilst working in a supermarket, one day in the midst of the winter months, when the snow outside was reminiscent of a Dickensian tale, I was told to head down to the frozen fridges and refill the ice. 

At first I thought they were joking "fill the ice?" I said "there's a snowmen and children having snow ball fights outside the window. The nation has grown to its traditional, panicky, no traveling halt at the sight of a wisp of snow. The camping shop across the street have a big sale sign up saying "now is the winter of our discount tent". The last time I checked we are in Pontypridd not ice filled frozen Siberia". 

"I know" they replied "the snowy weather conditions outside need no explaining but yet we have run out and have a new delivery in".  

"Who the flipping heck buys ice in a blizzard? A chap passed me on ski's this morning. Folks in white hoodies are blending into the snow and becoming invisible, if it wasn't for the gold bling around their neck's you'd walk right into them" I implored 

"We know its probably the same muppets who are panic buying bread, soup and beans" the reply came. 

"Fair enough" I said and went to refill the ice. 

The point is we now live in a society that in the partway through winter, in the middle of an unfavourable snow storm, you can still buy a bag of ice from the supermarket. What's more those bags of ice will be refilled and restocked with quite mind blowing efficiency during the day. That shop job proved to me that short of the collapse of western civilisation as we know it by some sort of freak occurrence, nothing is going to stop the supermarket lorry from getting through in the morning with new items for the shelves. We live in a world where food is sadly no longer needed to be stored. For the first time in human history society is now more about waiting for the used by date to expire than about careful planning and saving of foods. 

 life is more about consumption then preserving which I'm not commenting on as a good or a bad thing but it is a thing. What's more it's something we see in every aspect of society. We now have instant communication, quickening travel around the globe, mass entertainment at a push of a button so why not all year round food too.

 I think that's what I like about Roath Feast and its design. The challenge to this consumer culture. The idea of planning and waiting for a meal a year away. The trials and situations this creates will inevitably be a far more interesting experience than just popping to the shops for a pizza (which I do quite a lot to be honest). But the challenge and the idea of planning a meal a year off, I recall a line from Kipling from his fantastic poem "If".

"If you can wait

And not be tired by waiting"

I like the concept of Roath Feast, to wait, and not being tired by it but welcoming and embracing it as part of the experience. It's something I am looking forward to.  Best wishes Dai

Insomnia

The thing we didn’t know when we showed up at the ‘Insomnia’ event in G39 Gallery is that we were meant to email beforehand and book. The space, as it turned out, was quite small and could only accommodate a certain number of people. The organisers, however, welcomed us anyway, and it turned out alright - but we did feel bad for showing up unannounced!

The first part of the evening centred around ‘zine’- making. We had never really heard about zines before, so the little guide that Megan (who works at the gallery) provided us with came in very handy. Zine-making involved looking through the various art books available in the library, photocopying whatever pages, texts or images inspired us, and creating a small ‘book’ out of folded A3 paper. 

It was a lot of fun. Richard and I, being creative writers, enjoyed the process of creating something new out of the resources we had, and I even included some blackout poetry in my Zine. I would say we spent about two hours making them, and I was so involved in the project that I hardly felt sleepy at all!

We also read aloud some of The Remains of The Day, by Kazuo Ishiguro. It made for a nice midnight read. Then came the midnight meal, a delicious vegetable stew sprinkled with cheese. Coffee, tea, cakes and chocolate were also available through the night to keep us from going to sleep. 

After our late-night dinner, the next activity was a showing of Hitchcock’s Rear Window. Despite some difficulties setting up the projector, I really enjoyed the film - which I had actually never seen before. Another classic off my list! 

The only setback was that the length of the film delayed our sunrise walk to Roath Park. By the time we left the gallery, the sun had already started rising. But we did get to watch the sky change colours from the streets of Cardiff, and to smell the fresh 5am scent of the first day of summer - which, to me, was more than enough.

by Julie Primon and Richard Axtell

Creative Workshops II (Screen Printing)

Do I know anything about screen printing? No. Have I ever thought about making my own tote bag? Never. Did I let either of these things stop me when a lovely lady asked me if I wanted to make a personalised tote bag? Of course I didn’t.

Screen printing, it turns out, is a rather simple process. I don’t know the amount of effort/resources that went into making the screens (which were ready when we arrived) but the printing itself was quick and painless. We got to choose a pattern and/or a word for our tote bags. Among the words were ‘solstice’, ‘dusk’ and ‘twilight’, and among the patterns a large bird or a group of three smaller ones. We were then shown how to stick the pattern to the screen, place our bags underneath, and drag down a blade so that the paint would spread evenly over the space left by the pattern. The result was a clean, sharp red word and pattern printed over the bag. We wrote our names on the bags before laying them out to dry, but when it started drizzling we had to run outside and bring all the bags in! 

In the end, we took them home before the paint had dried. We were very careful not to smear it, and after about an hour of hanging on a clothes line in the sun and wind, the bags were all dry and ready to use. They look amazing and very professional - so much so that we’re wondering if we should repeat the experience at home!

 by Julie Primon

Creative Workshops I (Bread Making)

When I make food in the kitchen, things have a tendency to catch fire, explode, stuff like that. The result generally involves a lot of screaming, running around, and smoke alarms waking up the neighbours for miles around. So you can understand why I was a bit apprehensive and nervously eyeing up all the combustible materials in the room as I approached the bread making table at Made in Roath’s Solstice festival at the Trinity Centre.

Luckily, the warmest things at the table were the smiles of other festival goers and of George, the man in charge of bread-based activities. He began by handing out the recipe on a small piece of paper, with the promise that we can make more at home if we want (definitely) and then set about showing us the different items we would need on our bread making quest. I’ve always thought of bread as being the pinnacle of baking mastery, but it turns out that even strange people who wander in off the street (aka me) can make it with ease with George’s guiding hand.

The result? Well, the fact that I just ate two slices of my loaf and would happily eat it until there was nothing left, should speak for itself. Along with my new bread baking skills (which I will be bragging about to everyone I know, I assure you), I had a great time at the festival where there was plenty to do. I am definitely going to keep Made in Roath on my radar if I ever feel like doing something different with my day!

by Richard Axtell

The Cardiff Alms Project - Writing Your City

 In a small room in Cathays library, we remembered a community hall in a town in Newfoundland, an independent London bookshop that lost its soul to profit, and a school that was run by the kids. We sneaked into an old cinema the night before it was knocked down, and wished we had taken a look around an unusual Cardiff shop before it closed. Writing eulogies for the torn-down or transformed took us back with a mix of the nostalgic and the comic, and made us think about the places that define us. 

Leading the workshop was Jodie Kay Ashdown, a Cardiff-based writer and creative writing practitioner. Jodie was friendly and supportive, helping us to reflect on our chosen places while also giving us space and time to write.

by Rebecca Lawn

Written Portraits

As we wandered into Adamsdown, and possibly got a little lost on our way to the Trinity centre, my fiancé and I were only expecting to participate in the Written Portraits workshop. Though we had the Solstice program with us, we had read it too quickly to notice that there were more than one activity happening at the Trinity centre. Imagine our surprise, then, when we came across the building and were welcomed by a smiling lady asking if we were there for the screen-printed tote bags!

Never ones to pass on an opportunity, we took part in everything we possibly could: from getting our portraits written to printing our own tote bags to making some delicious bread. 

The Written Portraits took place in a spacious, lovely room. The Trinity centre must have been a church at some point: it still looks the part with its wide stained-glass windows and high ceiling. We had our photos taken first, then sat in comfortable chairs for the ‘interview’ part. It was more of a conversation, really. Mark didn’t just ask us questions - he took an active part in the dialogue and made it very easy to share bits of our lives and experiences. Steve and Rebecca listened to us and took notes the whole time, while also listening and reacting to the things we said. The fifteen minutes went by very quickly! We were asked to write our emails down on a sheet of paper, and told we would receive our written portraits later. We’re certainly looking forward to reading them!      

   

by Julie Primon

Octopoet

 Betty once turned down a young Dylan Thomas when he tried to proposition her at a bar. “Pity about Dylan Thomas,” she said on stage, “I didn’t get to know the color of his pyjamas.”

Ms. Lane and the seven other poets were accompanied by enthusiastic host Mark Blayney. Ocotpoet is a staple Made in Roath event, a reading of poetry at which, as it says on the tin, “eight poets battle for your love.” Blayney was sure to point out at the very beginning of the evening, that there would be a mix of the very serious and the not so.  

First up was Christina Thatcher, who read a series of poems about the men in her life—father, brother and fiancé. All of which were personal and affecting. Dave Daggers, in a sort of denim pinstriped suit, accompanied with a binder that said “Poetry For Dummies”, delivered a series of comic poems and songs, ranging in topic from French women to suicide to a self-referential poem about poetry. Possibly my favourite poet of the night was Emily Blewitt. Her poetry was surreal and, as she said, “witchy.” She was enthralling to listen too, even when she wasn’t reading poetry but simply leafing through her collection and telling us anecdotes of how the next piece came about. The last poet before the interval was former physics and astronomy lecturer Mike Greenhough. A fitting description of Mike given his poetry and songs were at times otherworldly, though unlike physics, wholly entertaining. Mike was deadpan in his delivery of a series of comic poems and songs and the café at large found him hilarious. Mike finished his set with a reimagining of the James Bond theme song, in which the trop of villainous and seductive woman was played by an octopus. The piece was obviously called “Octopussy.” 

During the interval, which I used to buy another round of Coca-Cola (served in a glass with ice, of course), Adale (Ada Ragimov) treated the audience to a harp performance. It was lovely. Coincidentally, the following day I was scrolling through my Twitter feed and someone who had not been at the event had tweeted “Only in Roath will you see two people rolling a harp down the middle of the street at 11.30 pm.” 

The night picked back up with resident heart breaker, Betty Lane. Following the Dylan Thomas story, she read a series of poems, the highlight of which was a piece entitled “A Day in the Life of a Man and His Dog.” As you can expect it was about a man, his life and his dog. The central theme was the dog’s unwavering love and as a dog person, I thought it genius. Nicholas Whithead was next. He read a winter solstice poem, as it was the only solstice-related poem he had. He finished with a tribute in the form of a poem to Wordsworth, in which Wordsworth, known nature lover, had an off day. There was a lot of nature and many expletives, which resulted in many laughs. Accomplished short story writer and poet, Susie Wild then took to the mic. She read poems about the summertime and beaches and smiles. One of which was entitled “Crooked Smile”. A sort of coming-of-age poem that at is crux was about self-confidence. A theme with which the last act of the night continued. Mab Jones and Johnny Jiles performed as a duo. They alternated poems, filled the space between with jokes and read pieces about feeling confident in your body, and in your mind. 

By Jamie Gillingham