Andrew Warren Photography. Coedwig Gwyllt - Wild Woodland.

From 15 August to 14 September I have an exhibition of prints from my Ty Canol book, “Coedwig Gwyllt”, as well as the book itself, in Oriel y Parc in St Davids.  Oriel y Park is the visitor centre for the Pembrokeshire Coast National Park Authority that own Ty Canol.  Details here:

https://www.pembrokeshirecoast.wales/oriel-y-parc/events-at-oriel-y-parc/local-artist-exhibitions/

If you’re in the area, call in!

Coed Ty Canol is an ancient woodland, close to my home, and heart, sitting in the Preseli Hills above Newport in Pembrokeshire. It is mostly a sessile oak woodland, but downy birch, beech and holly are all in abundance. It is a haven for lichen with over 400 species being present, some of global significance. Some of the individual trees are more than 800 years old, and the woodland itself was already old when the adjacent burial chamber of Pentre Ifan was built some 5,500 years ago. Such is its importance, Coed Ty Canol is designated as a Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI), a National Nature Reserve (NNR), and a Special Area of Conservation (SAC).

Coed Ty Canol is an example of an incredibly rare and rich eco system: a temperate rainforest. Many of us, myself included, assume that a rainforest is tropical. I had visited Ty Canol many times over many years when I read the fabulous book, "The Lost Rainforests of Britain" by Guy Shrubsole, and I learned that I was, in fact, inside a rainforest.

There are various features used to define a rainforest, such as rainfall volumes, vegetation type and the nature of the canopy. Personally, I prefer the much more pithy definition that is to be found in Guy's book: "a place where shit grows on shit, growing on other shit". By this definition, there can be little doubt that Coed Ty Canol is, indeed, a rainforest! Temperate rainforests cover less than 0.3% of the earth's land mass; much less than tropical rainforests.

Shortly after I first moved to West Wales in 2010, I learned about this mysterious and magical place and determined that I must visit, camera in hand. That first visit began the love affair. Fired up with enthusiasm, I decided to make a photographic record of what I was seeing. To say that I was disappointed with the results would be an understatement. The images were underwhelming and totally failed to capture what I was seeing and, more importantly, feeling, when I visited what was fast becoming an environment where I felt calm, centred and at ease with the world.

Well, if at first you don't succeed.... So, I persevered; I carried on trying; I continued to visit and "hunt" for images. I failed. Miserably. Again. The chaos and complexity that is Coed Ty Canol had defeated me. Disheartened, I stopped visiting, and didn't return for a couple of years. But, after this lengthy break, during which thoughts of this remarkable landscape frequently entered my consciousness, as well as pervading my unconscious mind, I felt compelled to return. This time, I didn't bother with a camera. I just walked and looked. But not only looked. I listened, I touched and stroked, I smelt the air and I tasted the water. Without wishing to get too hippy, I just connected with the place in a profound and meaningful way.

Then, I went back with my camera again. But, I still just walked, looked, listened, touched smelt and tasted. I didn't "hunt" for photographs to "take"; instead I went with a mind opened to possibility, and tried as much as I could to be in "receive" rather than "transmit", mode. I made a conscious decision that if I was lucky enough to find something that I wanted to record visually, I would treat it as a gift that had been "given" to me, and do my best to be faithful to it. If I didn't stumble across something that I wanted to visually record, that was absolutely fine, and I had had a great time. I didn't go with the intention of photographing "stuff", I went with the intention of enjoying an experience.

Over several years, I refined this approach. I thought about the essential elements of this landscape that made it so special to me, and how I might want to portray them in a photograph. For example, I made the decision that, as far as possible, I would exclude the sky from my photos to emphasise the intimacy that I felt when there. this book was formed. That idea being to use many photographs, rather than the single stand out image, to communicate a story. The story of my experience of Coed Ty Canol. An attempt to communicate the love that I feel for this wild woodland.

As described above, this book has been a long time in the making, and yet all of the images presented here have been taken in just the last two years, in over 50 individual visits. In the last 10 years, I have visited Coed Ty Canol literally hundreds of times. The older photographs, just didn't work. In a way they are the preparatory sketches that helped me feel my way to pictures that actually began to say what I wanted them to say, and that would work together to create some sort of coherent narrative (I hope!).

If you have already visited Ty Canol, you may empathise with what I have written above. If you have never been, I would encourage you to go, and hope that this book has persuaded you that it is worth a visit. In either case, I implore you to treat this unbelievably rare and fragile environment with reverence: break no branches, damage no moss and leave no litter.

Andrew Warren

Glassy, Watery Ramblings from Moriath Glass

Water and glass weave their courses through my life and work - watery, indigo-blue copper oxide bubbles make an appearance in nearly every panel I create - and recently I've been literally taking my glass process to the water.

There's a stream that rises in the fields above my house and studio, threading across the yard down the track and meeting the unnamed stream tumbling down the valley. This in turn meets the Esgair, on to the Bargoed and eventually into the Teifi, the beautiful silvery line that runs from Llyn Teifi to Poppit. Lines of watery life linking me across the landscape, veins of life.

Cutting the glass to size, I take it to the stream and wash the surface with the water, ready to take the copper oxide. Inky blackness flowing across the panel, dripping rivulets meeting and crossing, twisting and turning, finding the edge, the sea. I'm always amazed that the heat of the kiln - up to 800 degrees C - transforms this darkness to a sparkling spread of bubbles, entranced by fine lines of tiny time capsules scattered through the glass.

I'm trying to link up my love of landscape, rivers and glass, to discover ways I can use it to engender a love of landscape in others, a love of rivers, an increased awareness of how we should be treating them. Rivers are alive. They demand our respect.

I've just finished reading the long-awaited new book from Robert Macfarlane 'Is a River Alive?' and feel the urge to reread it already. He writes: 'Our rivers are now tightly bound by logics of objectification and extraction. Strong forces will be required to release older, more complex river-meanings from their impoundment - and to reanimate our relationship with these vast, mysterious presences whose landscapes we share.' We need to widen our concept of relatedness so that it encompasses all life, only then can we truly understand our place within it.

The Tywi in Carmarthenshire now has its own group of heroes  Achub Y Tywi, and The Cleddau Project is looking out for a vast swathe of Pembrokeshire.

Join us! Look after our rivers. Oh, and look out for pieces from my new watery series in Origin!
 

Jo Taylor - Finding the Right Materials for You (May 2025)

Hello – Jo here. I’m an artist living near to Drefach, Felindre and I joined Origin back in August 2024. This Blog was meant to be a Vlog, but after a lot of false starts and coming across as a bit of a mad woman, I decided that my future as a TikTok influencer was probably not realistic so I have resorted back to the written word. I am here to share a few of my favourite materials, and I will kick off with paper.

My go to paper is Fabriano Accademia. It comes in a pad of 100 sheets and is good quality, archival paper that will support a lot of different media. I also cut mine down to A4 and it will happily go through my printer. Price varies greatly, but there are often promotions and I tend to buy a couple of pads so I always have plenty in stock.

One of my favourite pencils is the delightfully named Ticonderoga. Who couldn’t love a pencil with that name? It is a great all rounder.

Finding the right paint can be a bit daunting if you are starting out. There are so many out there. I mainly use watercolour and although I have a few tubes of very expensive stuff, I tend to use Windsor & Newton. If you want to treat yourself to some great watercolour paints – Sennelier, Daniel Smith to name but two - I would recommend just starting off with a few core colours. If you want to expand, some of my favourites are Payne’s Grey, Burnt Sienna, Raw Sienna, Indian Red, Ochre, Indanthrone Blue. You can create a lot of great colours with just a limited palette.

When I am making my cards, I often use metallic paints to add some little touches and these tiny boxes of paints are great (Csy Art Gallery). They are a lovely quality, affordable and you can just pop them in your pocket if you are out and about! They have magnetic strips so you can mix and match your colours.

Where to start with paint brushes? I use all different types of brushes – decorating brushes, pastry brushes, old and new, but if you are looking for a really good, synthetic brush for fine details, the Princeton Velvetouch range is great. Very nice to hold, good price and produces a lovely line.

One thing I have struggled to find is a good quality masking tape. I have tried loads and never found one that totally prevents bleeding and doesn’t tear the paper. The good news is that I have now discovered the perfect tape for the paper I use: Hahnemuehle. It is fabulous stuff and I can often get a couple of uses out of each strip.

Although I don’t do a lot of paper cutting, I do every now and then and have always used a scalpel – Swann Morton 10A blade. They are great to cut with, but putting in the blades and removing them can be a bit fiddly and, to be honest, there is something about using a scalpel that makes me feel a little queasy. Whilst watching one of the Domestika courses (on-line, great value, brilliant tutors and very useful material lists), I discovered this cutter: Olfa. It’s excellent. Nice to hold, blades are easy to insert, affordable and you have a bit at the end to make clean folds.

Lastly, I want to talk about archival pens. I have always used the Sakura Micron pens and they are very good quality. The downside is that they don’t last very long – although that could be down to me being a bit heavy handed with them – and they are just single use. I do tend to keep mine when they are worn down and use them as etching tools. That said, it’s still more plastic being thrown out.

Having seen this come up a lot (and I mean, a lot) on Instagram, I decided to treat myself to a Lumos Mini by Tom’s Studio. There is quite a bit of hype around this brand – certainly on social media – but it definitely lives up to the great reviews. It’s a fabulous design, so easy to fill, feels great in your hand and the nibs come in a wide variety of thicknesses. There is also a wonderful range of inks. It is all so well crafted and thought out from the design to the packaging and the ethos behind the brand. Well done Tom!

So, that’s it from me for now. You never know, when I get my hair done and learn how to apply a filter, I may be back with a Vlog!

Happy creating. Jo

Journey of a Scarf from Artisan Scarf Lady

The Journey of a Scarf

Artisan Scarf Lady takes you through the Journey of making a Felted scarf with silk textures.

Hi, my name is Karen and I thought I would take you through the process of how I make one of my scarves.

It is strange, the paths we find ourselves on in life, and how as you progress through your own discipline, you forget that others only ever see the end result, and often have no idea how the piece came to be in existence.

Over time, I have had customers ask if I “paint the colours onto the wool?”, or say “Oh you MADE the fabric! How?”

So here is the journey of one scarf :)

One off Merino wool scarf with silk fabric texture

A bundle of hand dyed silk fabric

The process starts with dyeing up silk fabric. I use a very lightweight silk and will dye up a whole batch of different pieces in one go.

I work directly with the dyes, often using different quantities and saturation. As the colours merge together, different patterns will form, always making each piece unique by it’s nature. One of my favourite combinations, is using orange and blue dyes to create various shades of green!

Merino wool tops with the chosen shade of green silk to compliment the red and mulberry tones

Because each piece is hand-dyed, when I have the results, I will then begin the process of matching the silk to various shades of wool that I think will compliment it. At this stage I must have a white background, and remove any other colours from the pile, as other shades that are too physically close, distort what I see.

Sometimes the decision is quick and obvious, sometimes much “playing'“ with a variety of combinations, which is why I describe my work as ‘playing with colour’, as there always seem to be endless possibilities!

Once I have decided on the colour combination for the piece, I will lay up the wools over a template I made earlier.

My work is not ‘cut’ to shape or size, in that each item is made as the final piece from scratch, using careful calculations. This guarantees the correct size of the finished scarf, as the process will cause a 30% shrinkage from the beginnings to the final item.

The process I use is called ‘wet felting’, and the fibres are laid up by hand, making sure layers are at a 90° angle to each other. This is a highly relaxing and gentle part of the process, merging and overlapping the colours as they go from one to the next. At this point I will have created a lovely fluffy pile of colour! These layers are what will create the fabric itself.

Hand cut silk fabric is then laid up to create the design

With my fluffy ‘cushion’ of wool, I will then start working on the top layer of silk decoration. The art of combining wool and fabric felted together comes under the term ‘nuno felting’. I often work on a base of fabric, layered between wool, but in this case the fabric is purely laid over the top wool layer. I build the design as I go, free hand cutting the silk - depending on which patterns of dye is where, and where different shades and shapes will compliment each other

From this point onwards, the physical hard work begins.

To felt the fibres together, I use hand-hot water with olive oil soap (to keep my hands soft), and the whole piece is then wetted thoroughly, and rubbed.

The use of heat, moisture and friction, causes the fibres to ‘lock’ together. Many people may relate to putting a wool jumper in the washing machine on the wrong wash - where the mix of too much heat and friction have sadly returned their jumper 3 sizes too small! This is the same concept - but done in a controlled way!

I will work on both sides of the scarf, and as the fibres lock together, the wool layers and silk combine to become one piece of fabric. I ensure the edges are tucked in as I work, shaping it as I go, frequently turning the work, squeezing out water when it is cold, and reapplying hot water.

When the wool fibres and silk are firmly felted together, the final part of the process is called ‘fulling’, and many Felters may use a bamboo mat to work with.

I don’t - I throw the entire piece of work as hard as I can on my work table! I have a very sturdy table and if you are ever feeling the need to let off steam - this is an excellent way!! Otherwise throwing your work in time to music is much more fun :)

As this process takes place, I will witness the scarf shrinking slowly towards what will become it’s final size. The silk fabric on top will become increasingly textured during this process.

When the scarf is the correct size, and is firm but pliable - I know I have reached the end of my process. The soap is then rinsed out, it is then shaped on my towel whilst wet and left to dry naturally.

And then it waits for it’s new owner to claim it :)