Pa mor bell fydda rhywun mewn pentref gwledig yn yr oes o’r blaen yn mynd i ddarganfod ysbrydoliaeth? Mae’n siwr bod traddodiad llenyddol yn gryfach na un celfydddydol yng Nghymru’r oes honno ond son am gelf yn benodol ydw i a chrefft fel modd i wneud celf.
Dwi yn tueddu i feddwl allan yn uchel ar hwn ond tybiaf bod unrhyw ddylanwad Celtaidd, sef yr un mwya amlwg o ran synnwyr o berthyn wedi’i gladdu o bosib erbyn yr oes honno a’i ddylawnad hefyd ar wenuthuriad wedi hen fynd, ond eto mae dyluniadau troliau ac olwynion ac offer fel rhawiau mawn efo siapiau naturiol ddeniadol ynddyn nhw er bod y siapiau yno wedi’u creu i bwrpas arbennig – i weithio ryw ffordd arbennig ddim i edrych fel addurn.
Oherwydd hyn dwi wedi bod yn meddwl ers dipyn y bysa defnyddio siap coes pladur fel templed mewn dyluniad bwrdd neu gadair yn gweithio’n dda. Mae’r siap yn ddeniadol i ddechrau arni, a mae’r syniad o ailbwrpasu yn apelio llawer yn enwedig os oes ryw ystyr arall yn cael ei roi iddo. Pa ffarmwr sy’n holi am goes pladur yn yr oes yma? Dim ryw lawer felly fydda i ddim yn eu gwneud nhw, ond eto mae’n bechod gweld y siap yn mynd yn angof rywsut.
How far would someone living in a rural village in another time have traveled to find inspiration? Suppose that the literary tradition is stronger than the visual one in Wales at the time but I’m talking specifically about visual art and craft as a way of making art.
I tend to think out aloud on this, but I reckon that any Celtic influence, which would be the most obvious one as regards to a feeling of belonging was buried by that time and its influence on makers also long gone. Then again the design of cartwheels, carts and pete spades and cutters have naturally pleasing lines and forms in them – created for a special purpose, to work a certain way not to look like an ornament.
Because of this I’ve been thinking it would be cool to use the shape of an old scythe leg template in a design for a chair or table – the shape looks attractive to start with and the idea of repurposing appeals a lot, especially if there’s some other meaning attached to it. What farmer would ask anyone to make them a new scythe leg these days? Not many, so I don’t make them, but it’s a shame to see the shape forgotten somehow.
Rwan, dwi yn cytuno efo hyn i raddau ond ddim gymaint lle fyswn i’n deud wrth bobol am beidio prynnu dodrefn, ddim hyd yn oed o IKEA. Rhwydd hynt i chi. Y gwahaniaeth am wn i bod y dodrefn dwi a nifer o bobol eraill yn eu creu wedi eu cynhyrchu i bara a bod modd dod i’w trwsio os eith rhywbeth o’i le a rhyngtho fo a’i meatballs fel arall.
“Ac wedi blino breuddwydio o hyd, mi benderfynodd fynd, beth bynnag. Ac i Bont Llunden â fo, a cherdded ddiwrnod neu ddau. Dim byd tebyg i ffortiwn yn dwad, yndê. Ddôth ‘no ryw ddyn i’w gwarfod o – Cymro.”
“’Helo’, be fo. ‘Dw i ‘di’ch gweld chi’n cered nôl ac ymlaen hyd y fan ‘ma bob dydd’, be fo. … ‘Be ‘dech chi yn cerdded nôl ac ymlaen o hyd?’
‘O’, bedde’r dyn. ‘Ddim byd yn neilltuol’, be fo. ‘Ond, deud y gwir wrtho chi, mi ddaru mi ryw freuddwydio o hyd daswn i’n mynd i Bont Llunden baswn i’n gneud yn ffortiwn.’ ‘Twt, Twt!’, bedde’r dyn. ‘Peidiwch â gwrando ar ryw hen freuddwydion gwirion. Dw i wedi breuddwydio lawer gwaith’, bedde fo, ‘dyswn i’n mynd i ryw le o’r enw ‘Sbyty Ifan ac i ryw ffarm o’r enw Tyddyn Cwtyn y Ci’, bedde fo, ‘a thurio dan ryw goeden ‘fale, byswn i’n câl llond crochon o aur.’”
Now, I agree with this to a certain extent but not so much where I’d tell people not to buy furniture, not even from IKEA. The difference, I guess, is the stuff that I and many other artists create are made to last and can be brought back to be fixed if something does go wrong. I’ll leave him to his meatballs.
“Eventually he’d had enough of this dream and decided to go. And he went to London Bridge and walked there for a day or two. There was nothing that resembled a fortune there. Then he met this man – a Welshman.
‘Hello’, he said, ‘I’ve seen you walking back and fore here every day. Why do you do this?’ ‘Oh’, he replied, ‘for no reason in particular, except that I’d dreamt continually that if I were to go to London Bridge, I’d make my fortune.’ ‘Tut, tut’, answered the other, ‘don’t listen to those foolish old dreams. I’ve dreamt many times that if I were to go to a place called Ysbyty Ifan, to a farm called Tyddyn Cwtyn y Ci, and dig under an apple tree, I’d find a pot full of gold.’”
Wneith yr un o’r gynnau yma danio na lladd neb fyth eto, ond yn hytrach rhoi ysbaid i rywun, cadair heddwch fel petai – mae i’r gadair symboliaeth yng ngweldydd Africa nid yn anhebyg i’r syniad tu ol i gadair farddol yr Eisteddfod yng Nghymru.
“’Mm’, medde’r dyn wedyn, ‘mi â i adre am wn i’, be fo. ‘Dw i ddim yn mynd i hwnne ddim chwaneg.’
Ac adre â fo, ac yn syth â chaib a rhaw i fôn yr hen goeden ‘fale, beth bynnag, a dene lle’r oedd llond crochon o aur. A dene stori Tyddyn Cwtyn y Ci.”
Yn digwydd bod mi dreuliais lawer o’m mhlentyndod yn Tyddyn Cwtyn y Ci sydd mwy neu lai ar ffin ddwyreiniol Parc Cenedlaethol Eryri, sy’n un rheswm pam i mi gynnwys y stori yma.
Rheswm arall i’w chynnwys oedd ar ôl i mi tweetio llun o’r orsedd mi darganfyddais wedyn y bu eisioes yn Eisteddfod yr Urdd Y Bala tro dwytha rownd ond i mi fethu’r peth yn llwyr. Dydi o’n beth od, y bu raid mi fynd i Lundain i’w gweld hi ynghanol ‘loot’ yr Ymerodraeth Brydeinig, pan oedd hi mwy neu lai dros y mynydd o’m gweithdy yn Ysbyty Ifan.
Ddaru mi ddim breuddwydio am y peth chwaith, felly dyna fo, ond mi es ati i fraslunio fersiwn llai o goesau pladur i’w troi mewn i fwrdd bach deunaw modfedd ‘mond i’w drio – a dyma’r canlyniad ar y dde isod. Cam cyntaf tuag at rywbeth mwy.
These gun won’t ever maim or kill another person ever again but rather give someone rest, a chair of peace as it were. The chair has a symbolism in the African nations not unlike the idea behind the bardic chair at the Eisteddfod in Wales.
‘Well, I’d better go home then. I won’t look any more.’ And off he went home and took a pick and spade and dug at the base of the old apple tree. And there he found the pot full of gold. That’s the story of Tyddyn Cwtyn y Ci.
As it happens I spent a lot of my childhood at Tyddyn Cwtyn y Ci, which is more or less on the eastern border of Snowdonia National Park, which is one reason I’ve included it here.
Another reason to include it was because after tweeting a picture of the Throne, I found out it had already made it’s way to the Urdd Eisteddfod the last time ‘round in Bala but I totally missed out on the occasion so had no idea. Isn’t it a curious thing that I had to make it all the way to London to see the piece in the middle of the Empirical Loot of the British Museum, when it was more or less over the mountain from my workshop at Ysbyty Ifan.
I hadn’t dreamed about it either so there we go, but afterwards I made a smaller scythe leg template to turn into legs for a short 18” table and the results are on the right of the picture below. A small step toward something much bigger.
(Stori Tyddyn Cwtyn y Ci o Amgueddfa Cymru)
I’W BARHAU.
(Tyddyn Cwtyn y Ci story from National Museum Wales)
TO BE CONTINUED