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I came to the Residency with a proposal to make a speculative sonic survey of the tidal flows of the lower reaches of the Mawddach Estuary, and to focus on developing my listening practices. I spent time gathering field recordings using a variety of microphones such as hydrophones, contact mics and binaural mics while attempting to sense the changing tidal energies and began each trip out with a self-instruction taken from a series of notations I have drafted as techniques for encouraging attentive and imaginative listening inspired by Pauline Oliveros' 'Anthology of Text Scores' (Oliveros and Pertl, 2013).
"you have to listen to everything all the time and remind yourself if you're not" (Oliveros) This listening meditation, which invited deep listening to everything it is possible to hear (from the sounds of the community that is estuary, and imagined sounds, to my own thoughts and memories) became easier as the Residency progressed – my listening grew more sustained and less fractured or unfocused.
While spending slow time listening along the estuary edges, I became fascinated by the rippled patterns on the surface of the water, watching how hydrosphere and atmosphere touch, and wondering what the ripples could teach me about the temporal movements of tidal systems in our time of warming and expanding seas. Since the Residency ended, I have begun piecing together a sonic composition from the sounds I gathered, with a score drafted from the ripple patterns on the water at high tide, and on the sands and silts at low tide after the waters have withdrawn.
What made this wonderful Residency even more special was sharing the two weeks with artist Emily Spivey. Talking about practice and processes and co-working in the studio was valuable and inspiring. It was a privilege to have such close insights into Emily’s methods and activities during our two weeks, and to talk through my own tentative, just-forming thinking, and I learned so much from our conversations. Thanks Emily x
Kate Paxman website soundcloud
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Cat You know when you have fond memories of something, you worry that if you go back, it won't live up to those memories? This was definitely not the case when we returned to Mawddach! It was as beautiful, welcoming, and inspirational as I remember and more. To have time and space to create and be surrounded by art and other creatives was exactly what I needed after a tough year. Bonnie and I chased stories and exchanged tales of the land, the house, and those that had gone before us, both real and imaginary. The stories we have been working on together finally took a leap into the real world and we were so pleased to finish the two weeks with an illustrated zine of our first story, "The Spindle", a tale so entangled with Mawddach it simply would not exist without our time at the residency. Once again, we left with full sketchbooks and notebooks, heads full of ideas, and a sense that anything is possible, and the end of the residency is actually just the beginning. Catherine Lovett website Bonnie
Ever since the last time we left, we have longed to return to Mawddach. It is a special place, like no other I have found, and the inspiration comes not only from the landscape, the weather and the place itself, but from the atmosphere of creative living that Jake and Scarlett model. Returning to a place can be a strange thing, especially to a place that has been as influential on you as this one. We pulled down the drive, aware of how green everything was, how the bare branches and orange leaves we had seen the last time, when we had visited in November, were now hidden by glowing handfuls of the greenest, freshest leaves. Before, the land was grey and silver and purple, and beautiful for it in a gothic, quiet, sometimes melodramatic way. This time, the land was bursting. Last time we were here, we collected new stories, stories that came together on our walks, beginning as conversations, then I would write something and read it to Cat, she would draw something and an image would stick and I would write it into the tale. We cycled round and round, layering the stories into something that felt both new and very much rooted in the land. This time, we already had those stories. We did not plan to make entirely new ones (though I did start one accidentally!) Instead, we went back to the places that we knew we needed, to flesh the stories out. We isolated the key scenes, sections and images from the tales, and those became the bones of the story. As a writer, who tends to over rather than under write, it was both challenging and fascinating to whittle a story down to the essential elements. We ended with a mock-up of one completed zine, which we plan to print and sell. From these bones, we both have opportunities for expansion; I will develop longer versions of the stories, to publish as an anthology. Cat has spoken about developing one image from each story into a print. And we want to do this with all the stories we are gathering – three each from Wales, England, Ireland and Scotland. Coming back gave us the chance to make our ideas into a real, physical thing. We both also work on our own practices, and for me it was strange – haunting and wonderful – to be back in the place where I set my most recently finished novel. I started that novel the last time we were here, and this time I could see all the spaces not only as they were then, not only as they are now, but also as I had imagined them in my mind, when I had played with geography for my own ends and twisted the world to suit my own story. I realised I had spent more time in this place as a fictional one than as a real one. I won’t go into any further musings, as I did that here, but it felt like coming full circle to return to this place that I have spent the last two and a half years inhabiting in my mind. I started a new novel this time, not one set at Mawwdach, but one inspired by the low tide trees at Borth, the time and tide bell at Aberdovey, the huge jellyfish washed up on the many shores we visited and the conversations that were had around dinner tables. Perhaps in another two years we will come back and visit the submerged stumps of the 4000 year old forest and watch jellyfish fluttering in the current, and feel the echoes of this residency too. Bonnie Radcliffe website At the first sight of new lambs bounding up and down the daisy-studded Welsh slopes, it came as no surprise that all I wanted to do for my first week on the residency was to be outside and fully explore the vast range of natural surroundings that Mawddach Estuary sat in the middle of. Welcomed by Jake, Scarlett, Ellie (my fellow resident) and Toby the cat, we had a wonderful dinner sat outside by the estuary, facing the mountains floating
in the distance over the water. It truly felt like I had stumbled into a Nan Shepherd-esque dream. We were lucky to have a glorious first week of April sun, and out I went with a copy of David Berry’s ‘Walks around Barmouth and the Mawddach Estuary’ a brilliant little book I had found in our sitting room. My first walk took me up a though a dappled wood by a stream, past a neolithic burial chamber sitting amongst heady clouds of gorse, down a wide walled track framed by oak trees that looked like it hadn’t been trodden on for 20 years, and into a wood with the thickest carpet of wild garlic I had ever seen (later to be made into cheese and wild garlic scones). What I loved about this book is that all it gave me was a rough drawing of the shape of the walk and instructions to follow, which included treasure-hunt like landmarks dotted around the landscape, for example a ladder stile at a corner of a wall 50 yards past a stream, or a crumbling ruin of a farmhouse with ivy practically holding it together. It was due to this little book that I felt like I was truly able to immerse myself in the landscape. If I were to miss a certain corner of a wall I could have lost my way, so every hill, ruin, stream and ladder stile was noticed, making the experience even more enjoyable. I managed to fit three walks from David Berry’s book into my first week, as well as continuous wanderings around the woodlands at the back of the house and the shoreline of the estuary. To document these days, I kept a ‘texture diary’ in the form of photographs and rubbings, as well as notes and rough sketches of the essence of these places. To be able to have two weeks of uninterrupted research and creating couldn’t have come at a better time, Spring was just unfurling its golden green leaves, and the birds were singing with their little hearts fit to burst. As the rain began in the second week of the residency, the urge to stay in the studio was much greater than bearing the weather outside, and so the ‘Mawddach Slate’ flute began to take shape alongside a range of Verre Eglomise coasters, made in the lull of clay drying time. The flute seemed to naturally emerge with steady-stealth from my imagination into something tactile, as having had the time to understand the formation of the land (both above and within) and the sounds that accompanied it, I felt confident in translating a version of this via the flute. When firing day came, Sue from Dispy Dragon in Dolgellau was brilliant, I arrived with the dried flute carefully packed in bubble wrap sitting in the passenger seat of my car and delivered it safely to her basement kiln. Two days later and the flute was dropped off by Sue, in time to be played back to the estuary on my final day. A wonderfully conclusive ending to two weeks of pure creativity. Thank you, Scarlett and Jake. When I first received the email letting me know I’d been selected as one of the 2024 Graduate Award Winners, I had no idea what to expect. I’d never been on a residency before and was understandably nervous; new place, new people, and meeting Scarlett and Jake for the first time. But those nerves quickly melted away when I stepped off the platform to find them waving enthusiastically, all smiles, and greeting me with hugs.
From the start, it felt like stepping into a fairytale, or more fittingly, a scene from Welsh folklore. That first evening, I found myself sitting by the open studio window, breathing in the sea air and watching jellyfish drift through the estuary below. It was the perfect place to get wonderfully lost, both in the landscape and in the stories and creatures it stirred within my imagination. Each morning began with a coffee outside, and often I'd find myself deep in conversation about my practice and my ambitions. All the things that feel intimidating to talk about sometimes, especially as a recent graduate trying to forge a creative path. But somehow, with that breathtaking landscape around me, those big dreams didn’t feel so out of reach. They felt quieter, gentler and a little bit more possible. Exploring the area became a key part of the work I was making. The natural palette of the surroundings began to influence the colours in my own practice, softening and grounding them. And while I’m usually a painter of canine confidants, I even found myself inspired to try something new, thanks to Toby, the residency cat. With his habitual studio naps, he made the perfect life model and a surprisingly patient muse. I left the residency with a body of oil paintings and watercolours, a renewed sense of creative confidence, a head full of inspiration, new friends and a heart full of happy memories. Ellie Davies website  My stay at the Mawddach Residency was both my first residency and my first time in Wales. Not only did I have a lovely time at the residency, but I was able to explore a lot of the area- more than expected, because the sun insisted on shining despite it being only March.
I had made some plans, of course- I wanted to do a lot of walking and sketching, and use those drawings to create larger paintings in the studio. So, I immersed myself in the surrounding landscape. First figuratively, walking around, exploring the shapes and colours of rugged Welsh mountains in my sketchbook, then literally, going for cold swims in the Estuary and whatever Llyn I came across on hikes. While this was great, I also felt torn between the inside and the outside world. Inside was a studio space unlike what i have access to at home, and the possibility of 'proper' paintings, while outside was a stunning landscape for my sketchbook, which is where I find my inspiration, but it´s also more of a comfort zone. In retrospect, I do think I found a balance there. Before coming, I decided to try and not push myself too hard. I didn´t want to think about these two weeks in terms of classic productivity- I didn´t want to come out of it with xx number of paintings. For an artist, just staring out of the window for a few hours can mean a lot of productivity, especially with an Estuary view. It´s not as visible as a stack of drawings but it´s important nonetheless. Mawddach gave me that space and time, and I enjoyed the absolute luxury of doing this thing that I usually don´t allocate enough time to - art. I expected my time to be more solitary as well, but gladly suprised by my pretty great social life for being a stranger in rural Wales. When I emerged from a painting tunnel, there was always an opportunity for a chat and a cuppa. I felt lucky to share some dinners not only with the bestest hosts, but also having lunch with former resident Molly Lemon who visited with her partner. There were also fish & chips dinners around the fire, and an impromptu studio visit with the nice nextdoor neighbour. On my last day, we visited Bontddu and I was shown the former school, Jake and Scarlett´s next exciting project. Time seems to pass slower here, more quieter, obviously. The inspiration of these two weeks will stay with me for a long time- not only the beauty and the opportunities provided by this very special place, but also the glimpse into how other creatives lead their lives. Jenny Adam website  Saturday 1st March, I arrived in darkness at Mawddach Crescent. I was greeted by Scarlett and Jay my studio partner to help carry everything but my kitchen sink to the top floor. After working up an appetite we all shared an extremely yummy curry, where I was introduced to Toby, the resident cat. My room was beyond comfy, I immediately felt at home.  In the morning I rolled out of bed to see the most beautiful view of the estuary with towering mountains in the distance. I went with no intentions of making anything but to let the space, and local geography inspire me. I walked most days through woodland, up waterfalls, over hills and along the beach, unlimited access to all terrains. It was beautiful. I reintroduced myself to what made me want to weave when I first learnt how. I had a small inkle loom that I played on for the first few days, weaving simple wool ribbons with little thought of how they would be used. After finally picking my favourite walks and finding the best sitting spots I decided to get on the big loom.  Exploring the variety of landscapes and being inspired by the enormous selection of sheep, I wanted to pick a material that drew on these elements. Black Mountain sheep wool arrived a couple of days later just in time for my warp to be wound and loom set up. I wanted a thick cloth to provide warmth and strength, a simple design that celebrates the natural colour of wool. As I wove, ideas came to mind, looking out at a continuously changing landscape, my weave started looking like windows. After this, I wove a cloth opposing this one, thin, floaty, almost transparent, to experiment with the qualities of the welsh wool. I shared my residency with Jay Caskie, a fabulous printmaker based in Cornwall. Working alongside him in the studio was a joy, and an inspiration. By the end of the residency, we had shared our crafts, and built a friendship – Thank you Jay.
During the 2 weeks I had the pleasure of taking part in SGWRS BACH – ‘The small things’ at the local community hall arranged by Scarlett. It consisted off a 7-minute presentation with 20 images showcasing my practice. Alongside other makers also presenting, I met several locals, artists, and past Mawddach residents. Followed by lovely chats over some yummy cakes, it was a special night giving me more inspiration to take away.  I signed up to partake in the life drawing session as a participant and model. I can’t say I’m confident at drawing, but it was so much fun to play and experiment with different ways of interpretating human features. Posing for the class was even more exciting, getting to see versions of you on paper felt grounding and lovely.
Me and Jay had the honour of being toured Jake and Scarlett’s new venture at the school, having an insight into their ideas for the future. Looking forward to revisiting and seeing the progress. I really felt lucky throughout my time at Mawddach residency, and still now. It was a magical time which will not be forgotten. I had never done any kind of artist residency before, so I was very excited but didn’t quite know what to expect. My goal for these two weeks was to fully immerse myself in the creative side of being an artist- away from the everyday distractions and admin that come with being self-employed. I was looking forward to spending my time exploring the landscape, sketching, engraving and experimenting with new imagery. What drew me to this residency was the landscape of vast mountain ranges and the changing tides of the estuary. They remind me of my home back in Canada. Now that I live in Cornwall, I don’t get many opportunities to spend time in the mountains, so I was especially looking forward to this part. These two weeks pushed me out of my comfort zone, in the best possible way. Highlights include:
During my time in Wales, I spent a lot of time sketching and engraving small test blocks. I was particularly interested in capturing the ever-changing light on the mountains and water. Going into this residency, I was focused mainly on the work I would make there. I planned to create a series of experimental sketches and prints, and build up a visual library of imagery that would inform my work for years to come. I’m happy to say that I accomplished all this, but what I didn’t anticipate was the inspiration I would get about my art practice and life as a whole. Meeting with other artists and seeing the way they create creative communities around them made me think more deeply about my own life and my art practice. I came back to Cornwall full of new ideas about a new body of work, but also with ideas about how I can use my art practice to create community and meaningful connections with others. Jay Caskie website
My proposal for the Mawddach Residency:
‘I was born and bred in Bolton (Bowl-town). I have a pull towards hills and have grown up surrounded by them. Sometimes they have felt looming and sometimes my protectors. My proposal ‘a love letter to the hills’, is a cumulative story told through film and 35 mm stills and hopefully, collaboration.’ Past this I didn’t really have a clear intention - this experience was unlike anything else I had ever done. I didn’t know what my outcome would be, I didn’t know what the rhythm of my days would look like and I didn’t know what I would be able to make with my hurriedly ordered Tesco delivery or what I would use the projector compact amongst my clothes in my suitcase for. Met at the station by Jake and Scarlett and the trusty wagon for carrying luggage. We were greeted by the sea air and the spectacular view of the Mawddach landscape and surrounding hills. Surrounded by the hills we had tea and biscuits and huge helping of gratitude, much of my uncertainly was put to rest by the encouragement of Jake and Scarlett and replaced with excitement. In my first week I wanted to be guided by interest and intrigue, I wanted the ideas I had to have the room to breath and grow without the pressure of them becoming a fully realised idea. Almost like strands of lace being woven into a fabric. I felt inspired by the house on Mawddach Crescent, by Jake and Scarlett and Katie (my fellow resident) and by the landscape. I wanted to capture it all, I didn’t want to miss any opportunity or idea that might arise; an equally overwhelming and encouraging place to begin. Like a forager I begin collecting material, I ventured out with my camera with some visual themes; corner stones of my practise. Landscape, recreative/ reflection, texture, movement/change. My first week became a process of capturing, reviewing and responding. The newness of the experience felt deserving of a newness in approach. I quickly I realised that I didn’t want to make a film, which seems bold or rather sacrilegious as a filmmaker to declare. It didn’t feel conducive to the time I had and the freedom that the residency afforded. Reviewing and responding to the material that I gathered I was struck with the image of hills and ‘hill like’ images. Something simplistic if not obvious, focused my eye, a triangle with its peak in the middle of the frame. With some perspective shifts most things fell into this framing, whether it be a rock, a floorboard or a coaster. I played around with my footage editing and cutting them together layering images and making connections. I projected these on to the walls of the studio using my projector as a way to view it outside of my laptop screen. And played around with projecting it onto different surfaces, texture and angles. I enjoyed how the exterior images interacted with the interior space.
Along side this I began to develop a textile piece, in some ways trying to immerse myself in the location from the windowsill in the studio, and began to stitch the landscape, which I named unimaginatively my ‘fabric foto’. It was a very natural process and the longer it went on the more committed I was to it - I didn’t know how I was going to ‘use it’. I set some boundaries around the construction of this piece, I would only stitch using the actual landscape as my reference, meaning this was only done during the daylight, speaking to the feeling of nowness and presence of this experience at large. I listened to podcasts and essays about North Wales - by the Welsh writer Jon Gower and through him Welsh poet and writer Ceiriog and his poem Aros A Myned (The great mountains remain).
‘The hills are moving’
This line of the essay really encouraged a perspective shift for me. My whole thinking and impulse to undertake this residency in this location was my perspective of hills, the ones surrounding me as I grew up, these ever present beings. I liked the contrast between our perspective and the reality. I was also still gathering material and doing projector tests around the flat and the studio. And from this a rhythm emerged with my work. Stitching in the daytime and projector experiments in the evening/nighttime. Upon this reflection it is clear to see why these two elements became integral to my final piece. As the second week commenced, with a day off walking around Barmouth and watching Chloe Zoo films, I concerned myself with sculpting my findings into some sort of ‘final form’. A way to present what I had been working on.. not that it had to be a fully formed and realised film. Nevertheless, it felt really important to me that things were rounded off/ presented. I wanted to mark the occasion. The final form was visually being realised and I became concerned with the sound. In someways it seemed counter intuitive to contrast the stillness that the Mawddach and Arthog had offered (with the exception of Arthog Waterfalls). Jon Gower’s words had struck me and so I thought that would be an appropriate place to start from. I gently began scripting the piece selecting sections of the essay I wanted to explore. And from this I thought about adding my voice into the piece. I was hesitant to do this feeling like it would become too self indulgent but I realised that this was a deeply personal experience and this felt like the only way to demonstrate that. This went through a couple of iterations, I tried to make this something more humorous bit it seemed to cheapen the thoughtfulness of Gower’s words and my own collecting of material. As my residency was drawing to a close, it seemed to sharpen my mind and clarify what I was working towards. With two clear themes: The hill-like and Conversation (not only ‘between’ myself and Gower, but between the feelings of permanence and impermanence, interior and exterior spaces, hard and soft textures, natural and human made.) Organically my textile piece found it's way into an installation on my final evening at Mawddach Residency. On the landing I set up my project, projecting the film I had made on to the apex of the ceiling where two walls met at the corner of the stares. I positioned the projector in such a way that the image itself was distorted and looked hill-like in its own right. I had done previous experimentation with mirrors, testing out reflections and how images were distorted and enhanced. I really wanted to emphasis the perspective of my work. I put a mirror along the wall opposite the projector as another way to view the film. On the landing I set up a stained glass lamp with a mirror under it to reflect some of the light onto the ceiling and on this mirror I put left over thread from my fabric foto as a way to add texture to the reflection. On a desk I set up my fabric photo along with some slate that I had collected from the beach. I had assigned 3 spots where the installation could be viewed. I wanted to interact with the space and capture the moment as it was there and then, allowing Katie, Scarlett and Jake into my head and into my perspective and portrayal of the landscape. This also encouraged some really lovely post installation screening discussion of landscape and perspective.
It has been over a month since my time at Mawddach Residency ended and I am longing to go back, everything felt important and considered and cared for. Down to the shared pasta and cheesy leeks, the portrait sessions, life drawing classes, yoga and the discussions over cake and tea. It was all so refreshing, altering the pace of my day. I read two books in 2 weeks something I have never done, or maybe allowed myself to do.
All this I guess is to say that the talent, kindness, patience and encouragement I found there has propelled me into this next phase of creativity feeling inspired and confident, enabling myself to call myself an artist. I have a new perspective of my craft, my capability and what it will look like moving forward.  This residency in February 2025 was my first ever residency, so I wasn’t totally sure what to expect, but I found that it was a perfect first residency for me.
My co-resident Vicky and I arrived on the 1st February; which happens to be Imbolc in the pagan calendar: the halfway point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. This is when the very first signs of spring arrive, and it is supposed to be a time of growing potential, of renewal. During those two weeks I could feel the seasons shift, the air changing a little. Or maybe I was just not used to finding that kind of stillness. I didn’t have a very solid plan before arriving – I had a project based around my family and the landscape of North Wales that I wanted to continue with, but I also wanted to just see what would arise by walking and drawing and slowing down. I am not normally an early riser, but I couldn’t not wake up with the sunrise and sit in bed looking out at the water constantly changing colour. On my walks, I noticed some patterns and connections that sprouted new ideas, or helped me along on work in progress. Though Vicky and I did not plan a collaborative project, there were elements of her work that found their way into mine - for example, Vicky was using tracing paper in her film, and there was enough left for me to try drawing on it, as I hadn’t thought of using transparent paper in my project. This led to me making a piece of work for my end of year show two weeks after the residency ended, and although it’s a simple idea, opened up some new ways of working. I felt very settled in after two weeks and it was hard to leave. Scarlett and Jake (and Toby, cat, muse, bread-thief) have made such a perfect and nurturing place for artists and I’m sure all residents leave there feeling energised, as I did. Katie Vicary |
