Soul's Place - Seaweed

Water Bag

Old boat shed at Gallows Point. 

Corrugated door blows back in the wind

 ... and behold! 

                       An ancient mariner's water carrier ! 



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Almost There

Can smell the sea and the damp sand ...

Can hear the muffled voices ... Almost

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SUMMER IS ...

                                                                      En plein air

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SEA PEOPLE

Pocket Watches ~ Brooches ~ Buttons ~ Collar Studs ~ Boot Nails ~ Shoe Heels ~ Earrings 

Spectacles ~Lockets ~ Rings ~ Pens ~ Pen Knives 

SEA PEOPLE

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ARTIST'S CELL

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WATCHES IN THE WATER

It’s all about time. Sands of: passage of: passing.

Sands … yes, I walk them every day, trowel in hand, and along with the weather/ shape of the coast line/ wave refraction and beach gradient,  the tempo of the tides and passage of time tend to dictate the outcome. There’s a vague area of predictability surrounding the beach-combing thing. Even people like myself, with a cursory knowledge of beach science, can work out that the largest particles land at the top of the beach and the smallest material at the base. Twenty minutes amateur coast fieldwork research will tell you that the direction in which a wave moves can be altered by the shape of the coast line, and it’s the wave power that transports sediment across the sand. So if you read your coast line carefully you can predict, more or less, where the best finds might turn up.

Well that’s the theory, but interestingly there is a spot on the beach where a group of related objects consistently wash up in the same place. Old pocket watch pieces seem to end up there : bits of chain, watch keys, inner workings – all lying within inches of each other.  Is it a weight/density thing?

I don't care, I’m glad of it. Saves so much time!


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Searching for the Sea People

Searching for the Sea People today. They are always there ... in the water ... in the sand ... in the tiny fragments that they leave behind - but some days they just go away... don't want to be found. 

No one ever climbed on board a ship believing that they would drown; this experience was all about travel and adventure. In search of a new life or out for a holiday day trip - they were never put off by shipwreck and tragedy - our ancestors just kept on sailing. 

 It might be argued that, until relatively recently, ships were the only form of long distance transport,and indeed they were. But thousands of people lost their lives, needlessly, in pursuit of pleasure. 

Can't help thinking of them when I'm down there on the beach. 

They don't stay away for long - I just discovered the Sea People again.

beeadamsart.co.uk      @beeadamsart

History into Art

There is textural beauty in everything

 - it just depends upon how you look at it. 

If you see it ...



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Mother - Child

Oh, to be there ... in the sea, with my child ... but who looks back ?

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Sea People

It had to happen one day. Thousands of beach-hours spent pounding the sand into glass powder in search of the past, made almost inevitable the possibility that I might eventually come face to face with it.

In terms of natural resources, this rocky sand belt has everything that you’d need to survive, and I have often wondered about its tenacious offspring - the people who once lived down there, in the caves and behind the waterfalls.

Where there’s a crossing there will always be good business – on both sides of the water – and even though the tides have repeatedly thrashed the old trading grounds, evidence of money exchanging hands still survives in rock pools and sand-soaked clumps of seaweed.

It wasn’t a brilliant return as far as treasure hunting goes -  a couple of shoe buckles and a corroded penny - but the weather was fine and the atmosphere was almost rarefied, so it didn’t seem to matter.  Sometimes it feels as if someone is standing between the big rocks, and on a good day you can fair feel the eyes of history upon you.

So there I was, crouched down on the sand, scratching around in the pebbles – concentration level maximum -  and then ... suddenly a hand presses down on my shoulder, and a husky male voice whispers closely in my ear,” Who are you?”

What happens next is predictable: a sharp intake of breath; military-style body roll; frantic grapple for spade, mobile and finds-bag. I desperately scrambled to my feet and spun around, attempting to take up a sort defensive stance.  Futile. There was no-one there.

Can’t remember the order of my feelings as I stood there alone on the shoreline: confused; uneasy; amazed; incredulous - I guess I felt them all at once. The seagulls were screeching overhead and the wind was blowing off the sea in just same way that it had been before I heard the spirit-voice. Everything was unchanged, except that I was trembling slightly and feeling just a little silly for having been ‘caught out’.  I expect that this sort of experience is par for the course when you’re seeking out the personal effects of people long lost to this world.

@beeadamsart   : beeadamsart.co.uk : @carolynwarburton

Child Lost

After the big storm the sand was strewn with shoe leather. Boots, clogs, heels and straps - lying soggy, in rock pools and clumps of seaweed. Nothing too surprising about that, given that this stretch of beach was once the old Beaumaris town dump.

A tiny right shoe was sitting on the end of my workbench for days - drying out slowly. Measuring just 15cms, and still intact with all boot nails present, it was in wonderful condition, but every time I passed by it I found myself pausing for a moment and going back for a second look - something wasn't quite right.

The people of Beaumaris were pretty poor during the 17th and 18th centuries and nothing of value was ever thrown away or discarded. This boot had only the slightest signs of wear and would definitely have been handed down to the next generation - so what was it doing in the sea?

I decided to go back to the beach, in the hope that I might pick up a few clues from the other bits and pieces which were washing up on the shoreline. It was midday and the boatyard was in full swing. As I walked down the slipway I saw Boatyard - Dave cutting across in  my direction with a handful of bent copper and old rope. "Want these?" he asked. I took them gratefully and started to explain my reason for being there that particular day. He listened thoughtfully and then pointed towards a pile of rocks next to a newly dug trench. "See that rubble over there ... it's the remains of an old quarantine station. I remember when I was a boy, a very old man used to work here on the boatyard, and he said that his father once told him about the people who had been forcibly landed on Gallows Point because they were too sick to travel on the ships bound for America - maybe your shoe leather belonged to them."

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1. 
   

Need more space ...

Trying hard to pack up studio but still can't prevent visiting artists from setting up shop!

Finger snappin' cold!

It's freezing out there - especially in the rock pools - but it's big tide time. The water's so clear, it's a pleasure to work, even if it is finger-snappingly cold! Winter treasures always seem to be cleaner/brighter/better condition. Probably just a result of being hit by g-force winds as they bite their way up the Menai Strait, and battling those cruel salty tears that start down your cheeks like crushed ice droplets.

So why the hell do I do it?

                                          ART OF COURSE!

A view to die for ...

Four hundred years ago people were tipping their rubbish on Gallows Point. Two hundred years later some of them were being hanged by the neck on the very spot for deliberately causing ships to be wrecked on the coastline of Anglesey. Sounds incredible - a must-visit - but, in truth, the Beaumaris dump was not an illustrious one; three hundred years ago the local community couldn't afford to throw away their belongings, let alone anything of value; but occasionally the waves return little treasures - evocative pieces of social history.

The sea turns up treasure most days and this morning was no exception. More importantly, the weather was great.  

And the view ...

I SAW THIS TREE

                                           I went closer ...

I                     
                          ... and I'm sure it spoke to me.

RETURNED FROM THE WAVES ~ JANUARY 2013

A SHOW STOPPER!

WHEN THE WIND BLOWS HARD UP THE MENAI STRAIT ...

It's that time again - sore hands and biting winds - but who cares?
The waves are returning their treasures to the shoreline.

Yesterday's haul.

Love the little fishes!

Blue Island Waves: Mariner: My mistress Sea she will take me down

Blue Island Waves: Mariner: My mistress Sea she will take me down

Mariner: My mistress Sea she will take me down

Hanging onto Waves:

My latest work ... Showing at the Albany Gallery, Cardiff, Christmas Exhibition 9th November - 31st December 2012

THE DUCHESS OF CAMBRIDGE ~ A TOKEN OF RESPECT

Last night’s trip to the supermarket turned out to be unexpectedly entertaining. The weather outside was dark and damp, but inside the atmosphere was mildly electric.

“Psst ... she’s in,” hissed the girl on the fruit and veg. I was about to go back outside and come in again when I noticed that almost the entire shop was hovering aimlessly around the cash-outs.

I’m not sure whether it was the ‘Spooks’ style female bodyguard leaning against the community charity boxes, or the unusual hush that gave it away, but it was patently obvious that the Duchess of Cambridge was somewhere close by.

Couldn’t help having a look, but resisted a quick pic on the HTC.  Truth be told, I was just a little nervous that the pony tailed Amazon front of house was one of a pair, and that I might at any moment be ‘taken down’ in the bread rolls and Brioche.

Suddenly, it was all over. Kate Windsor had left the building.

Then ... a cacophonous burst of excited opinion and muttered exchanges up and down the aisles. “She’s taller/smaller/thinner than I’d expected ... Plainer/prettier/more beautiful than I’d imagined her... I can’t believe it ... I only came in for some broccoli.”  

Of course, she looked terrific. But I couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. It must be rotten not to be able to nip into Waitrose for a bottle of milk after a hard day's work without the area coming to a virtual standstill.

Anyway, against my better nature, I walked up behind her in the queue. I just wanted to get a proper look at our future queen - but I’m glad that I did. If I hadn’t been so close (or so nosey) I might not have noticed what the Duchess of Cambridge did with her little green token!

Cold days and even colder, damper early evenings - that’s February for you ... So it’s beach early – blog later. Tide’s well out and I don’t want to miss the sand.

Photographic images copyright HangingOntoWaves

Hold it! Flash, bang, wallop!

What a picture! Found this old image at a postcard fair a few years ago. Just a little digging around turns up the  White Rose Motor Services Company which was founded in Rhyl in 1912 by the Brookes Brothers. They ran charabanc trips to local beauty spots and they became incredibly popular. The fleet eventually numbered just under 100 buses and coaches by the time they were taken over in 1930. 

Note the speed limit, bottom left on the charabanc ... and those kids - what on earth are they doing?

SEMPER EADEM

What a Knob!

There it was, lying in a clump of wet seaweed right on the top of the rocks. No ordinary artefact this - exquisitely carved with excellent patination – the surprise find seemed to stare back at me.  Maybe the man in the middle had something to do with it. I’d been charmed by an unknown face on an old wet door knob, I had to admit it - I was instantly smitten.

 With his sharp mediaeval pageboy hairstyle held in place by a princely crown, this bloke’s status appeared to be pretty clearly defined, not to mention the precision carved designs surrounding his head - but it was the piercing eyes that had me from the outset.  I bet he’d been there all afternoon, the silent observer watching me from the rock pools ... digging hard in the mud and sand.

Okay, so the only thing I actually detected that day was a sardonic grin beneath his bronze beard, and to date I haven’t been able to dig up any history on my verdigris prince, but for once I don’t care.  

This little beauty goes down as one of my best finds ever, and I love it! 

ANGLO-SAXON SHIPWRECK ON ANGLESEY ?

I’d walk down the creek to Lleiniog beach anyway, because it’s such a fabulous rock-strewn stretch, but after this morning’s chat with M.D. Postie I’m ready to set up camp there for the winter.
  

According to the postman with the metal detector there’s a shipwrecked Anglo-Saxon sailing vessel somewhere down there.

I guess there are those who have known all about it for years, but it’s the first that I’ve heard. This place is a geological feast for the eyes, and famous for it too, but where do you start to look?  Treasure hunting is a more of a visual work out, but well worth it - on a good day there are stone beads and some nice pieces of jet to be had – but an Anglo-Saxon shipwreck?

Now you’re talking!

Photographic image copyright HangingontoWaves

CHILL OUT

                                Don't panic! It's last year, but .....

                      It all started like this (today at The Gazelle).

                And if we're lucky it could be like this again.

                          Don't like ?   Aw ... chill out!


All images copyright HangingontoWaves

AT LAST!

Off the beach, out of the cold and into The Bull - that’s the business. A raging fire, a glass of Pinot and someone’s dulcet tones floating down on a stream of laughter from the back room; the lads are in and what good news was waiting around that corner!

It turns out that at last we’re going to see Antony-the voice-Owen on national telly. Yes! He’s this week’s talented guest singer on the Rhydian show. Emotional for me because I reckon he sings like a god and a break like this is long overdue - celebrations are definitely in order!

“Another Pinot please... and a pint for the man with the magical voice.”

www.s4c.co.uk: Listings: This week Rhydian welcomes former 'Britain's Got Talent' winners, acrobatic gymnastics group Spellbound, who join Rhydian in a unique performance of 'O Fortuna'. Popular Welsh soprano Shân Cothi serenades us with her version of the traditional Welsh song 'Lisa Lân' and re-creates the duet made famous by Freddie Mercury and Montserrat Caballé, 'Barcelona'. We also meet Antony Owen, a singer from Anglesey, who has the chance to show off his talent on stage. Wednesday Dec 7th 9.00

CAN YOU TELL WHAT IT IS YET?

THE TIDE IS HIGH AND I'M HOLDING ON ...

...Until it recedes. No need for a detector this week!






Photographic image copyright HangingontoWaves

SIR ANTHONY HOPKINS & THE DUCHESS OF CAMBRIDGE WALK DOWN THE AISLES - SO WHO'S NEXT?

Bumped into Sir Anthony Hopkins in Waitrose at Menai Bridge last week ... 

Well okay, truth be told, I bumped into the shop assistant who bumped into Sir Anthony Hopkins in Waitrose last week – but I was still as amazed as she was, although probably for a slightly different reason.

It seems like only yesterday that one could find a parking space, no matter what the time of day, at the old Coop (Waitrose before the make-over) and that you could top up your tank next door at the little family run garage.

 Now it’s not that I’m complaining, I do honestly love the new-look gateway to Anglesey, but I do find myself reminiscing about a yesteryear that is barely twelve months old!

Take the Anglesey Arms for instance – what a transformation – and even the post office has gone posh! It’s all good stuff for the area, especially the influx of glitterati who are gracing the aisles of our supermarkets - but I do draw the line when it comes to one particular institution. I go so far as to say that I might even consider setting up camp in the middle of High Street and exercising my right to picket if the make-over-fairies ever attempt to get their hands on Evans Bros! 

GOOD LORD! HE'S AT IT AGAIN

Some people just can’t keep out of the public gaze (or is it a case of ‘you can run but you can’t hide'?) Lord Winnington (aka Mr Cragg) looks set to be telly bound yet again, which isn’t surprising considering the gift of a house that he lives in. No sooner has he waved goodbye to the Sky TV crew than our bon viveur is putting out the welcome mat again.

Merlyns has had more incarnations than Doctor Who and his lordship has been responsible for his fair share of them.  It’s the fab place that everyone wants to live in – conjures up all the adjectives: Large, white, airy, dreamy, loads of interior woodwork, period fireplaces, views to die for - very, very Victorian ... Do I need to go on? 

Yep! We’re all a little bit jealous if we’re to be honest, but we can live with it can’t we? We love him, Ian is our favourite philanthropist and his doors are always open, so to speak (especially now that he’s turned the place into an arty B&B).

The place is the perfect setting for anything you can think of: Summer School; Jazz on the lawn or opera on same, in fact any kind of artistic pursuit because Merlyns seems to have a natural dynamic all of its own.  It was once the childhood home of Sir Kyffin Williams, but strangely enough he wasn’t altogether happy in that particular paradise, the house seemed gargantuan to a little chap. It’s different now of course, there’s central heating and loads of hot water in the Welsh slate shower rooms - a far cry from pine wash stands and Pears soap.

So what’s this about the media? Well, here’s the thing ... Winnington’s not a man to rest on his laurels. He whipped up a pretty impressive art gallery a couple of years ago, which was followed immediately after the launch by plans to build a flat-pack house in the wood at the bottom of his garden (the fairies were all up for it) and there was some romantic talk about the reinstatement of the original 15^thcentury monastery fishpond as a wildlife lake.

Slow down ... Slow down. Surely to God, no-one can do all that in a couple of months, with only one male offspring? Of course they can – it’s Ian – he’s like that.

The building was up and running in just six weeks (awesome) but not without all the usual highs and lows inherent to this type of adventure:  Flooding trenches and bad weather; Depression-and-too-much-wine; Missing builders; Depression-and-too-much-wine; Beautiful staircase and fabulous kitchen; Delirious-relief-and-too-much-wine. Yes, it was heavy stuff and Sky tv were there. 

 But it’s all over now ... done with ... water under the bridge ... quiet evenings at the bridge club ... a laugh and a pint at The Bull and a stress free life ...

Well, actually, no. That doesn’t sound a bit like Winnington.  Word on the grapevine has it that there’s another tv programme in the offing: Different channel, different subject, same intrepid characters.

Can’t wait!

THE DUCHESS OF CAMBRIDGE SAVES ON ANGLESEY

Shopping in Llangefni just turned into something else this week. The word on the island is that Kate has switched sides and they even know about it in Menai Bridge – especially at Waitrose!

The Duchess of Cambridge is now shopping for the royal palate at ASDA(One in the bag for WALMART). Good Lord! The staff at ASDA are walking on air.

Watch out Waitrose!  

*Every little helps – even when you’re a Royal.

ROYAL PIER-AGE!

It’s a dirty job, but someone has to do it. Grovelling in the mud beneath Bangor Pier, surreptitiously sifting through the detritus of past generations - love it. Not everyone’s cup of tea, I’ll grant you, but there could be anything buried in this oily slime: animal bones, bits of old pottery, mediaeval  artefacts, coins of the realm - literally anything and that’s the attraction, not to mention the peace and quiet ...  or so I thought.

“Hiya Barb ... what you doing down there?”

Terry Thomas’ smiling head was up there in the daylight. Squinting from the shadows I could just make him out, hanging over the wrought iron pier railings. I was going to say something sarcastic about having a picnic on the rocks and then I remembered that he was the proprietor of a little goldmine part way down the boards.  “Just coming up for a brew Terry,” I called back.

Wow! What a great surprise. I knew he had a little F&B business, and that it was becoming more established with every season, but this was better than I’d expected.

Of course the view along the Menai Strait is sensational in both directions, and the food (TT’s special pancakes, authentic Welsh rarebit, homemade Bara Brith etc; etc;) is everything that you’d expect, but I guess the real crack is all the goss – who’s been there, when, why and what they said.

SAYLE OF THE CENTURY?

“Alright then, what’s happening Terry?”

I was glad that I’d asked. It seems that Whistlestop-On-The-Pier has become the must- visit eatery on the North Wales coastline and it hasn’t escaped the attention of the rich and famous:

‘This is a favourite spot of ours. My wife and I come here not only for the views which are spectacular but also for the wonderful, authentic, Welsh rarebit, dished up at the pier’s Whistlestop Cafe. It's run by an ex-academic who used to teach at the University, and it's one of those places that's got that elusive something that always draws you back.’

Alexei Sayle. Beautiful Britain October 2010.

Can’t disagree with him really. My mate Terry is selling grub to the stars now – amazing. Just a week before the Royal “announcement”, last November, Terry had an unexpected visit. The pier was completely empty, not a person in sight when suddenly he noticed a solitary couple walking towards the Whistlestop. He watched them through the tiny gothic windows as they approached and as they drew closer it became apparent that the young chap was Prince Harry.

 “I couldn’t believe it when they came into the cafe,” he gasped. “I knew immediately it was Prince Harry. He had a very nice, dark haired young lady with him (TT wouldn’t say any more on the subject of the lady!) and they sat down to eat. She ordered a pancake and he had a Welsh rarebit. They chatted away happily and no-one was around to disturb them. When they finished eating they came across to pay and I just had to say something, so I casually asked ’Whereabouts  in the country are you from?’ and they started to giggle. The young lady pointed at Prince Harry and mischievously said, ’Oh, he’s from Buckingham ... shire!’ and we all burst out laughing. It was a lovely moment, then they thanked me, said good bye and left. ”

Great stuff Terry! Glad I climbed up for a cuppa. Running this little place atop the pier seems to be a bit like mudlarking beneath it – you never know what’s going to turn up!

IT'S THAT TIME AGAIN

Autumn's great and Winter's even better.  High tides and blustering winds mercilessly thrash away at the coastline and I can't wait to get down there ... but things really hot up after night fall. When Hugh lights the fire at The Bull you know it's time to mellow down for the winter.

 A pint of the guest and a Pinot for the lady - bring it on!

High Wind + High Tide = High Expectations!




Photographic image copyright HangingontoWaves

WHAT THE FHA ARE THEY DOING DOWN THERE ?

It's common knowledge that Anglesey beaches are sprinkled with bits of old pottery, but these pieces of green & white have been turning up regularly on the Menai Strait around the area of the Glyn Garth flats and I've been intrigued as to why they are there. I've been searching for years for some information on the initials FHA. Suggestions have been everything from Federal Housing Administration to Floppy Hat Association. Then I discovered this old photo in a junk shop in Rhyl.

I guess that the F.H.A. Guest House was the original Bishop's Palace which was demolished in favour of a concrete box. I'd like to know more about the F.H.A.