Art & Landscape

"Amfortas": Art, Music and Mythology

This blog entry is written to accompany my Oxfordshire Artweeks 2023 exhibition, which features my artwork “Amfortas”:

"Amfortas", a long thin fragment of railway sleeper recovered from the Amlwch line, partially and tightly bound in red cotton thread around a section with  a hole/slice in it, to emulate a bandaged wound.

“Amfortas” - copyright Mark Clay 2023

“Amfortas” originated as a broken splinter of railway sleeper which I retrieved (in September 2021) from the currently disused Amlwch railway line on Anglesey. It was the theme of my Masters degree in Fine Art, and has fascinated me for many years.

I picked up this small fragment (about 70cm long) and brought it home on instinct. I am something of a magpie when it comes to collecting materials from places that interest me. (Don’t look in my shed.) I knew I wanted to do something with it but I did not know what, at first. I was interested in the idea of portraying the materiality of the railway for those who neither knew nor visited it. Found materials from the line itself seemed the best way to achieve that. When I got home from Anglesey, I left it sitting on the window sill to dry out, uncertain what I should do with it. And there it stayed until May 2022.

Close by, a reel of bright red cotton thread had spent a similar period of time waiting for me to use it. I had been pondering using thread as a means of introducing colour to my work for a while - and indeed had already used thread in some of my previous pieces. Quite what the exact timing and impetus was for combining these two materials I can no longer recall. Sometimes things just emerge from a period of patience and reflection. You can’t force ideas - like smacking the bottom of a ketchup bottle. But it is probable that it was at least in part due to my listening to one of my favourite operas, “Parsifal” by Richard Wagner.

The sleeper fragment was found near this spot, not far from the village of Llanerchymedd, Anglesey,

The place where I found my sleeper fragment, not far from Llanerchymedd, Anglesey. Copyright Mark Clay 2021.

I was particularly interested in the little notch or hole in the sleeper fragment (see above) which is what had attracted me to this particular piece of sleeper. When the idea came to bind the area around the hole with red thread to make it resemble a wound, I knew that my idea had finally crystallised after those long months.

“Parsifal”, which I have blogged about previously as a source of inspiration in its own right (albeit still to emerge after several years!), features the character Amfortas. He suffers from a wound that never heals. With that, it seemed to me that I could make a meaningful connection between the outwardly dissimilar railway line and the operatic character: the railway line, too, could be said to be “wounded” beyond repair. And I realise only as I write this blog that there is even a pleasing semi-similarity in the names: Amlwch and Amfortas.

Wagner’s operas draw heavily on mythology in their texts and underlying ideas (Gods, knights, magic powers, love potions, etc.). The reasons for this are as huge and complex as the operas themselves, but it seems to me that part of the reason for this is to use the power of mythology to elevate the ideas and the music to something more timeless and eternal, and thereby to increase their power and impact. Without in any way wishing to put my art on the level of Wagner’s, it did seem to me that there was a similar potential in taking this sad fragment of a decaying railway and transforming it into a piece of art that carries ideas to people through exhibition and discussion, far beyond its genesis and location.

“Parsifal” is a great hymn to pity, compassion and redemption. At its close, Amfortas is in fact redeemed, and his wound is healed. Perhaps there is hope for a similar redemption and healing for the Amlwch railway line too, as the volunteers of Lein Amlwch strive to repair it to allow trains to run again. Let’s hope so.

Tunnel Visions

It is quite surprising to discover how many people are interested, like me, in the exploration of disused and abandoned railway lines, and there are numerous Facebook groups and YouTube channels catering for this interest, which I regularly enjoy delving into.

A chance encounter with the photograph posted below has taken me on the most wonderful journey into both darkness and illumination, giving rise to an initial series of drawings which I am now grouping as a collection entitled “Tunnel Visions”.

Abandoned railway tunnel, UK. Author: unknown.Please contact me if this is your photograph. I will be very happy to credit you.

Abandoned railway tunnel, UK. Author: unknown.

Please contact me if this is your photograph. I will be very happy to credit you.

There is so much to inspire me in this eerily beautiful photograph of a place most of us never see: the enticing perspective of the tunnel receding into darkness, the mark-making of the mineral leaching on the brickwork (calcites, in this case, I believe) and of course that amazing copper reflectivity of the spoil and water on the tunnel floor. I think this is a result of oxidisation, rendered gloriously copper-like when illuminated. (Many old tunnels contain dumped spoil and waste from other industrial sites such as mining or construction.)

Naturally, this also resonates perfectly with my current artistic practice: the exploration of Britain’s industrial heritage, an interest in the processes of decay and damage, my love of copper, and the delicate interface between remembering and forgetting.

There were plenty more amazing photographs to be inspired by, of course. In fact, my very first response to this new and enticing subject was inspired by a photograph taken looking vertically upwards through a tunnel ventilation shaft:

Mark Clay: “Standing in the place between forgetting and remembering.” (2021)

Ink on paper, H42cm square.

In this drawing I was using the strong sense of perspective as a way of thinking about time and processes of decay. As with its source photograph, it is a view from the position of the viewer on the tunnel floor looking up and out through the ventilation shaft as drops of water fall downwards from above. And, as a flat drawing, it can be read as movement in two directions: from the precise brickwork of the centre of the drawing outwards to increasing fragmentation and abstraction; or in the opposite direction. It is this quality of liminality, of things changing from one thing to another, that gave rise to the title of the piece, “Standing in the place between forgetting and remembering.”, because like so much of my work it is, fundamentally, about encounters with remembered things that stand on the cusp of being forgotten. That also plays out, I hope, in the equal sense of this being both a representational drawing and an abstract one, at the same time.

I also wanted to imbue a sense of both precision and decay. A railway tunnel is a precise, engineered creation, a carefully calibrated tube of emptiness carved through the earth and bound by uncountable pieces of regular brickwork (or other materials in the modern day). I used a compass to capture that quality. But I also allow that rigour to decay and break down, through disrupting and reducing the lines, and through the use of a dip-pen and ink, with its associated risks of blots and smudges. Together, I think the two combine to make something quite dynamic and interesting.

A gallery of series will follow in due course as the series develops further.

In Dark Waters

I have embarked on a new project in January 2021, a month in which I found myself reflecting on the damage that countries inflict upon themselves when arrogant and vainglorious men hold sway; the month of Brexit, and the violent, chaotic end of the gangster presidency of Donald Trump. I keenly felt the idea of “the ship of state” being sailed into treacherous waters; of wreckage, loss and waste.

In 1919, the huge natural harbour of Scapa Flow, Orkney, became the final resting place of the German High Seas Fleet. Built over the preceding twenty years or so by Kaiser Wilhelm II and Tirpitz. the fleet was intended as Germany’s challenge to the dominance of the British Navy, to be the guarantor of German imperial might, and the protector of its overseas possessions. And it was a proxy for the Kaiser’s own personal prestige in the twisted psychodramas and personal enmities of the intertwined British and German royal families. (Wilhelm was a grandchild of Queen Victoria, and an admiral of the Royal Navy.)

It was the High Seas Fleet that faced and outmatched the Royal Navy at the Battle of Jutland in 1916. Arguably it won a tactical victory in terms of men lost and ships sunk, but it lost the strategic battle and never made another aggressive move again. The Kaiser would no longer risk the annihilation of his precious fleet, even in the pursuit of victory.

The terms of the 1918 Armistice required the internship of the German Fleet under the watchful (yet neglectful) eyes of the Royal Navy, pending a decision by the victorious Allies on its fate. Some, like France and Italy, coveted the ships as war reparations, or additions to their own navies. Others, especially the British, wanted the fleet destroyed - it was still a potent threat to British naval supremacy. Thus, while never definitively defeated, the High Seas Fleet became a prisoner, its dwindling numbers of sailors neglected, malnourished and forgotten on decaying ships in a distant outpost, far from home. From being a symbol of national pride and prestige, the fleet in its surrendered, rusting state became a source of national shame.

Thus it was that in 1919, the remaining Germans scuttled (i.e. deliberately sank) their fleet, one last defiant gesture as the Allies bickered over the ships. You can read more about the incident here. Some of the ships were effectively brand new, only recently completed as part of the war effort and a culmination of the huge naval arms race begun when Britain launched the game-changing HMS Dreadnought just 13 years ago, in 1906.

I am forcibly struck by an enormous sense of waste and futility when I consider this whole remarkable and sad story. The labour, the materials, the expense and of course the terrible waste of human lives is staggering. This is what gives it such contemporary resonance for me today, just over one hundred years later.

I look forward to seeing where this new voyage takes me.

2020 Trinity Buoy Wharf Drawing Prize - opened in Dundee

Updated: 17 November 2020.

Things have been so busy in October and November that I’ve not even had to the time to mention the 2020 Trinity Buoy Wharf Drawing Prize exhibition, which is now open and touring the UK and which, I am thrilled and honoured to say ,includes a drawing from my MFA body of work: “Timelines” inspired by the disused railway to Amlwch on the island of Anglesey (Ynys Mon).

Image: the artist with “Timelines”. at Drawing Projects UK, Trowbridge, part of the 2020 Trinity Buoy Wharf Drawing Prize exhibition.

Image: the artist with “Timelines”. at Drawing Projects UK, Trowbridge, part of the 2020 Trinity Buoy Wharf Drawing Prize exhibition.

I’m honoured that my work has made it into the show alongside so many absolutely stunning examples of contemporary drawing from right across the UK and internationally. The photo shows me next to “Timelines” on the opening day of the show at the very wonderful Drawing Projects UK, in Trowbridge, Wiltshire, a mecca for contemporary drawing and practitioners and a place I firmly resolve to visit regularly from now on. The visit was a joy and an inspiration. It was so exciting to feel among my tribe and to meet Professor Anita Taylor, founder of Drawing Projects UK and leader of the TBWDP.

However, the Trowbridge iteration of the show has now closed and the exhibition has now moved to Scotland, opening on the 13 November and running right through to 19 December at the Cooper Gallery at the University of Dundee.

For full details of the exhibition touring programme, please visit: http://trinitybuoywharfdrawingprize.drawingprojects.uk/index.php/news

Above: Detail of “Timelines, showing how the tracing paper preserves “tracks” of the railway line to Amlwch, strongly suggesting contours in a landscape. Shown on a wooden surface for clarity. Copyright: Mark Clay 2020

Above: Detail of “Timelines, showing how the tracing paper preserves “tracks” of the railway line to Amlwch, strongly suggesting contours in a landscape. Shown on a wooden surface for clarity. Copyright: Mark Clay 2020

"Rhoddion". On Generosity - Part Three

In July 2020, I was finally able to return to the island of Anglesey and the Amlwch railway line to complete “Rhoddion”, a project that has lain dormant during the long months of the coronavirus lockdown. It was the culmination of my reflection on the idea of generosity, as well as forming a part of my final body of work for my Masters in Fine Art at Oxford Brookes University.

IMG_1838.jpg

As always, it was wonderful to be back on the island and to find the line once again. Though apparently little changed from the first time I had explored it in Autumn 2019, these visits have always emphasised to me the slow, relentless and largely invisible process of decay that is affecting much of the 17 miles of the route. It’s a process that never ceases, despite the valiant efforts of those seeking to restore it.

My job on this visit was to replace seven track ballast stones that I have gilded with copper leaf and kept with me at home all through the coronavirus lockdown. My plan was to replace them in locations along the whole length of the line, and to leave them to their fate - unmarked, unnamed and unexplained. Everything else apart from the simple act of returning the stones to the line - a simple, silent act of generosity, I hope - seemed unnecessary.

From this process, which took me approximately a day and a half to achieve, I generated a series of seven photographs as a documentary record, designed with my MFA final show in mind. They, along with some of my recorded thoughts, can be seen below:


Recording 1: Prelude (4mins 20s):

In which I introduce my project from a lonely overbridge not far from Gaerwen, and make something of false start.


Recording 2: Stone One (2mins 40s)

In which I find my way onto the railway line and place the first of my seven Rhoddion stones in the company of some indifferent sheep

“Rhoddion” - Stone no.1 - Mark Clay (2020)


Recording 3: The Rain and The Road (3mins 10s)

Once again, my attempt to place a stone comes to nothing, leaving me to contemplate the rain and the noise of roads.


Recording 4: Stone Two (2mins 50s)

The second “Rhoddion” Stone is put in place, despite water and warnings.

“Rhoddion” - Stone no.2 - Mark Clay (2020)


Recording 5: Stone Three (2mins 38s)

A silent and thought-provoking location for Stone Three, where I ponder ideas of access and trespass.

“Rhoddion” - Stone no.3 - Mark Clay (2020)


Recording 6: Stone Four (3mins 5s)

Resuming my series of little pilgrimages on the morning of day two, finding the path appears as difficult as finding the railway.

“Rhoddion” - Stone no.4 - Mark Clay (2020)

Recording 7: Stone Five (2mins 5s)

Gathering a few fragments of broken railway sleeper leads to a reflection on relics and their significance.

“Rhoddion” - Stone no.5 - Mark Clay (2020)


Recording 8: Stone Six (2mins)

Reflecting on how the railway, the roads and the paths of Anglesey dance around each other.


Recording 9: Stone Seven (2mins 45 s)

The end of the line, in every sense. At the end, there is nothing but the wind.


Embed Block
Add an embed URL or code. Learn more