Arriving at Mawddach Crescent on the first day of our residency felt like a kind of homecoming. After a long cross country drive from Suffolk - well known as being a very flat landscape - being greeted by the serene gentle mountains and sky embracing the estuary as we parked up was instantly calming. This view became the focus of my gaze for much of the residency, and as anyone fortunate enough to spend time by the Mawddach will know, it is truly enchanting whatever the weather or light in that particular moment.

I am a printmaker and illustrator taking inspiration from the natural world, and I arrived with one clear guiding feeling for my time; that I wanted to experience and document the surrounding landscape in as many ways as possible. To fully immerse myself in this new-to-me place and see what emerged creatively. 

I brought lots of different materials with me including sketchbooks, loose paper, drawing, painting and collage materials and some printmaking equipment, so that I could act on my instincts and respond to the flow of ideas. In reality, most of my residency’s creative output was observational drawings and short stream of consciousness writings made on location, whilst immersed in the weather, atmosphere and feeling of the places we visited. I also made some very experimental slate ‘prints’ in the studio using pieces of stone collected from the estuary, and then printed on to paper using gouache paint. This was a fun way to connect with the landscape, document colour and shapes whilst linking to my print practice but also, to step outside of the pursuit of perfection for a moment and just play. We were also very grateful to have a foil lithography workshop with Scarlett which was extremely enjoyable and enriching to try a new process, sparking new ideas and thoughts which will inform future work.

I attended the residency with my friend and fellow artist Chloe Heffernan, which added another dimension as we each brought our unique interests and ideas to the shared experience of the residency. Chloe is fascinated by folklore, Neolithic sites, standing stones and burial cairns, the imprints of ancient people and cultures on a place, whereas I am often drawn to the wilder places where you could almost forget about the human world, where you catch yourself believing in magic like I do when in the presence of waterfalls, rivers, lakes, forests and mountains. Luckily, North Wales and Eryri (Snowdonia) has all of of these a-plenty and it was wonderful to bounce off each other’s ideas to find inspiration in unexpected places.

Scarlett and Jake (and Toby the cat!) welcomed us so warmly and thoughtfully to their beautiful corner of the world. The studio became our sanctuary for two weeks and every morning I felt a childlike wonder as I rushed to open my curtains, barely containing my excitement to find out what the landscape looked like that day. Drinking our morning coffee outside whilst soaking in the magical views across the Mawddach Estuary was an excellent way to ease into each day.
 
I think what was most valuable about the residency for me was the space and time away from ‘normal’ life, but not just to be away from home, but also to be fully present in the here and now. The kind of space that feels sacred because it is fleeting and you know it is not going to last forever. Every moment of the residency felt precious and reflecting now a few weeks after leaving, I know that the experience will be one I carry with me fondly for a very long time. It has left me full of inspiration that I am now beginning to translate into linocut prints that I hope will hold even an ounce of the wonder that the Mawddach Residency gave to me. 

Hannah Farthing
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I’ve struggled to even know where to start with the experience of my two weeks with Hannah Farthing at the Mawddach Residency. The privilege to share such a beautiful, creative space with such knowledgeable, kind, and esteemed working artists is beyond measure.
 
From day one, Scarlett and Jake were so full of enthusiasm, hospitality, and kindness towards us in sharing their home and their artist facilities and their own practise and creative knowledge with us – Scarlett was even kind enough to do a lithography workshop for us, which was so incredibly exciting!
 
The place itself is beyond measure in how truly special it feels – there’s the concept of a ‘thin place’, somewhere that feels sacred, or close to the other. You could spend a lifetime witnessing the landscape from the Mawddach Residency and never tire of it, from those beautiful arched studio windows that are like a pair of warm, familiar arms cradling you and the landscape as you explore your creative process in the studio.

I’m a multidisciplinary artist while also a carer, so my experience of the residency was never going to be linear – I was anxious at first that the residency would be wasted on me as I wasn’t able to focus in my daily life, so how could I make the most out of being productive on the residency?
 
Scarlett and Jake reinforced to us that there was no right way to approach the residency - you don’t have to work every day in the studio, and you don’t have to spend all day out of the house, either. There’s space for holistic approaches to being creative, and space to set up a working schedule for the two weeks. There’s no wrong way to face the residency - if you enjoy uber 9-5 routine productivity, there’s the room for that. If you want to explore and exist with the landscape and find your feet and see where the wind takes you, there’s space for that, too.
 
I’d set out a general plan of what I wanted to explore while at the residency (and by general, I really mean very general) – my interests lie in the old stones and folklore, so I was pretty excited to research local burial cairns and neolithic sites nearby. My goodness, I was not disappointed. The landscape truly is ancient and inspiring, and for thousands of years has captured the imagination of people who have passed by and called the land home. It is an inexhaustible place; a gift that keeps giving. I’ve left with a cornucopia of references and inspiration for making and creating.
 
From waking up to the sound of oyster catchers on the estuary, to watching the sunset with jellyfish and rabbits – the Mawddach estuary is a place of sheer magic and a font of limitless inspiration, if only you take the time to sit back and listen to what it has to say. Scarlett and Jake have made and are encouraging such a beautiful, nurturing environment at Mawddach Crescent, and if you have the means and time to do a residency here, I cannot encourage you enough to allow yourself to have this incredible and beautiful opportunity. Mawddach Crescent will forever hold a special place in my heart.

Chloe Heffernan
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I applied for the residency as I was nearing the end of a third year on the Turps CC mentoring programme and, feeling somewhat untethered, believed that two weeks of quiet focus would enable me to better navigate this transitional period. Being on the residency was always going to be a time for reflection and exploration, and to tap into something authentic in my practice.
I love nature and the outdoors, so it was my intention to get to know the landscape more intimately by
walking and making field sketches. By drawing, re-drawing, cutting up and editing back in the studio, I wanted to try and locate a sense of presentness in the landscape, a density of experience that would inform new paintings. I didn’t take oil paints, my chosen medium, so I was attempting to describe some imperceptible characteristic of the landscape using materials that I don’t often use (egg tempera, gouache, pastel and charcoal), and hoping that these unfamiliar materials would also open up possibilities.

I was fortunate to arrive at the height of spring’s abundance with new life overflowing in the hedgerows and a proliferation of sturdy lambs with their watchful mothers keeping me company in the hills. I hadn’t been to North Wales for some years, and I’d forgotten just how majestic the landscape is compared to the gentle rolling countryside of my home. The scale was humbling and I sensed a palpable shift in perspective as I adjusted to my own smallness. Out walking, I found myself drawn to the many ruined cottages spread across the hills, roofs missing, their gable ends standing like monuments to long departed inhabitants. I loved poking around the dilapidated gorse-strewn interiors (now exteriors) littered with sheep dung, a tangle of weeds sprouting from
crumbling mortar, and imagining the families that had lived and worked in these harsh environments. I know these humble dwellings will appear in future paintings. I also loved the incredible network of dry stonewalls that run everywhere - up, down, across and around as far as the eye can see, cutting through the land at impossible angles. I wondered at the toughness and tenacity of the builders of these human-drawn lines of stone.

I was determined to get out and walk every day, to capture as much as I could on paper, in my head and with my camera, stockpiling memories for my return home. The landscape demanded that I was more attentive to its sights, sounds, smells and textures and to the folkloric and spiritual that are intrinsic to Wales’ cultural heritage. I was mesmerised by the lush ferns, the steep wooded valleys and the luxurious chlorophyll-green moss covering every craggy rock, as soft, dry and dense as a pure wool carpet. An insistent birdsong, particularly that of the Chiff Chaff with its perky announcement of spring, provided a magical soundtrack to each day, whilst the pungent smell of hawthorns in flower and wild garlic permeated the warm spring air. This slowing down and the intense quiet and solitude seeped into the drawings I was making and, as the days slipped by, I felt an urgency to somehow hold on to this marked sense of the here-and-now.

With minimal outside distractions, the days naturally found an ebb and flow; rising early, pilates for my creaky back, breakfast and then out exploring with my sketchbook. Afternoons were spent making drawings back in the studio where I shared the space with Jess Hinsley, the other artist-in-residence. She was the perfect house mate and, despite our age difference, we shared a remarkable amount in common, not least our love of nature and wild places. We quietly orbited each other whilst we worked, meeting up over dinner or a cup of tea which I looked forward to after a solitary day. Thankfully there was no television and we read, knitted (Jess), exchanged life stories, played Scrabble and laughed a lot. My one connection to the outside world was through Instagram, and even this felt like an unwelcome intrusion on the idyll of the estuary. Watching the multitude of birds - nuthatches, goldfinches, chaffinches, robins, blackbirds and blue-tits at the kitchen window feeder was a daily ritual. The dilemma in the morning with my first cup of tea was deciding whether to watch the birds feed from the kitchen or to gaze out over the heart-stopping view of the estuary and mountains from the studio.

The residency has been a wonderful restorative break from the quotidian. I feel reconnected with my artist self and am excited about the next few months of painting. I have come home with a plastic A1 portfolio stuffed with drawings, a full sketchbook, memories that will stay with me for a long time, and a strong desire to get on and make work. The Mawddach is a special place where creativity flows more easily without the demands of daily life. Scarlett and Jake have created such a warm and supportive environment for artists in their beautiful art-filled home that one can’t fail to be inspired and to come away somehow transformed.

Helen Baines
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This residency was an opportunity to spend some time within a beautiful rural setting and explore some ideas for new projects. I wasn’t too sure what to expect and had only vague ideas of what I might focus on, as I wanted to come with an open mind, to respond to the land, light and feelings I had whilst there. To be truly inspired and immersed by my surroundings.
In the residency I was able to explore my practice in new ways, with a limit on what I could bring, I took out the unnecessary and focused on what was around me. Often with the other artist in residence, Esme, I was seated by the arched windows overlooking the ever-changing estuary framed by the mist-cloaked mountains. Taking in these moments especially in the morning and at dusk to watch the thick wet* reemerge changing the view and atmosphere each moment.

This ephemeral nature holds an affinity with my natural dyeing practice, one which I was eager to explore in this part of Wales. Each day on walks I went prepared to see if I might find some natural material to dye with. With eager eyes I soaked up the local area, walking, thinking and gathering, material as well as thoughts. Picking the evergreen gorse flower (Ulex europaeus), slowly one by one, deepend my appreciation of the flower, its delightful colour, coconut smell and reproachful sting should I try picking more than two blossoms at a time. Its bright sunny yellow was replicated in the small fabric swatches I dyed as well as ink I made.
To be with plants from the picking to the dyeing process is an honour and for my time at the residency I dyed with plants and materials I was surrounded by, choosing carefully so as not to deplete areas of natural wildlife. Working with botanical colour gave me a grounding and a sense of place through familiarising myself with the area of the Mawddach estuary at this season, the cusp of spring.
I derive a lot of joy from the processes of collecting, letting the materials lead the way. Developing a colour palette of my time in Wales these fragments have begun to take shape in different forms, from pleated, stitched
and patched works.

Collecting soft rush became an almost daily ritual and partially collaborative effort between myself and Esme. Both of us were drawn to the plant with its potential to be made into cordage as would previously been done for hundreds of years, learning that their strength, once dried and twisted, was once made into baskets known as kishies. With stripping the soft rush and splitting it into finer strands, the monotonous task becomes natural and second nature, the movement refined over time. Through these processes it gives you a greater appreciation for the material as well as the material objects we have around us which can often be taken for granted. I explored soft rush through cordage, weaving, stitching and net-making.
With the slowness of dyeing from the walking, searching, picking and steeping, I am immersed into a different time where I feel more present, seeing the colours change before my eyes is a very special moment and has a spell-like quality. A watery sense and fluidity is often how my work is formed and like the ephemerality of nature I tried to capture those moments in which we can be in awe of the world around us. Those outer reflections can be felt in our innerselves too, connecting more deeply to our bodies, in a time we are becoming more disembodied from the natural world.

As part of the residency I dedicated some time moving in and around the local area, walking but also dancing. I wanted to embody the experience of a place using improvisation techniques which asked simple yet poignant questions, bringing presence to the movement, developing a conversation between body and land. These movement studies became a memory mark of a place using canvas, clay, ink, charcoal and graphite. I collaborated with the textures of the earth with my movements creating dynamic gestural drawings. These works capture a sense of my expression, movements and feelings of the place. Being led by the materials themselves, I let go of a sense of control, I lean into the unknown.

Whilst at the residency I reflected on my practice my work often varies in style yet there is a familiar thread throughout, I realise I enjoy the careful slow processes which come from the textile craft as well as the expressive and chaotic movement works which are visualised differently. My time at the residency reminded me that we do have nature around us, it is slowing down and noticing that is often overlooked. So on returning to London, where I live, I have been conscious of experiencing my surroundings with a new outlook and as well as continuing to develop the work I began on this magical residency.

*Dense Mist (from Exmoor)

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I came to the residency without planning exactly what I would do. I didn’t take much with me as I wanted to make use of what I came into contact with, planning to make some sculptures that would be ephemeral and natural and that I wouldn’t bring back with me. I made two sculptures from cardboard that I hand pulped and grew from small parts, coiling up from pieces of slate I found at the beach. I didn’t have a plan for their form but allowed them to grow slowly as they wished. I felt myself drawn to making vessels, enjoying their possibility and potential, their openness and readiness to be used, filled, fed. The evening before we left I placed these two sculptures into the fire.
 
I had been thinking about dry stone walls for a while and I was finally able to meet some during my time at Mawddach Crescent. I loved being near their deep sense of time. I imagined the forming of the stones themselves and felt connected to the ancient process of arranging stones in this way. I was fascinated with how they seemed to be partly absorbed by the landscape, the gaps between the stones now homes for other living things. I felt inspired by how non-intrusive this form of making is, a coming together of human and nature in a gentle and sustainable way. I am drawn to their haphazard nature paired with a sense of care and consideration. They felt weighty and monumental as well as vulnerable and precarious. I made some drawings as well as a modelling clay sculpture with the walls in mind, and a sense of balance, stacking, and care.
 
 
I spent a lot of time on the window seat looking out at the view and experiencing a sense of shifting, one that was slow over time like the forming of stones or making of mountains. And then there was the shifting of mist and the ripples of the water that were calm but swift and fleeting. The mountains seemed so steady and heavy in comparison to the mysterious mist. But even mountains move, they teach us to rest and still feel alive because in all their weight they are still breathing. I thought about contrasts and contradictions, and how I try to give space to the different parts of me when making to be both soft and slow, quick and spontaneous, both mountain and mist.

Making cordage from natural fibers has been involved in my practice for a little while now and when I saw the abundance of soft rush in the environment it felt right to start collecting a small amount for making string. The name ‘soft rush’ felt like such a beautiful combination of words that felt like the name of the movement of dancing mist across the mountains. I thought of the vastness of space, of infinite distance and immediate presence - the mountains were far away and the grass was there in my hand. I took the soft rush home with me and will be slowly twisting it into cordage to use in a piece that hopefully captures a part of the landscape.
 
After a quick cold swim one day in the estuary and feeling my feet sinking into the silt, I wondered what was beneath the sand, and the next day I used my hands to uncover a dark coloured clay. I used the clay in a similar way to the cardboard, adding small pinches at a time to coil around and up from the slate. The second piece was made more quickly, coiling a pot and adding small pieces to its body. These two clay sculptures I titled ‘The Mountains and Me - An Offering To The Estuary’. The day before we left I placed them both on the estuary bed from where they came, allowing the water to carry them home. Making these pieces knowing that they would not last reminded me of the joy of making sand castles. I also made some drawings using the clay on paper, applying it directly with my hands which felt playful and free, with a closeness to material, an activation of the senses, and a relationship to the body.
 
Often my work doesn’t directly visualise the world around me, instead, I aim for the work to capture a sense of the strangeness of life, its ambiguity, uncertainty, and unpredictability. Immersing myself and exploring an unknown place that was both beautiful and tangled, peaceful and mysterious feels to have re-energised me with this essence of life. It was a lesson in getting lost and feeling at home.

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