by Rhodri Owen | Aug 11, 2015 | gwaith coed, gwyliau festival, woodworking
Dyna be oedd wythnos. Fel arfer i mi mae’r Eisteddfod yn wythnos o fwynhau, yfed, cyfarfod pobol newydd, cyfarfod hen ffrindiau, rwdlan, bandiau, barddoniaeth, campio, diffyg cwsg, dod i adnabod ardal newydd, profiadau emosiynol sy’n aros am chydig o fisoedd wedyn, celf a thomen o brofiadau eraill. Afraid dweud – ticiwyd y bocsys arferol ond y tro hwn ar ben y cowdel emosiynol a blinedig yma – roedd gen i stondin ar y maes am y tro cyntaf erioed. Well, that was something. Usualy, for me, the Eisteddfod means a week of enjoying, drinking, meeting new people, meeting old friends, talking nonsense, bands, poetry, camping, sleep deprevation, getting to know a new area, emotional experiences that last a few months after, art and a pile of other things. No need to say all boxes were ticked this time as well only this time I had a stall on the Maes. Roedd o’n gyfle arbennig a mi dreulais i wythnosau yn creu stoc newydd a gwahanol i’w arddangos ar lwyfan mwyaf Cymru a bu’n werth bob munud o waith. Ar y stondin yn y neuadd arddangos, roedd siarad am fy ngwaith am wythnos gyfa yn hwb mawr i mi fel crefftwr a mi fyswn yn ei argymell i unrhyw un. Heb son am werthiant, mae’r syniadau creadigol a ddaeth yn sgîl siarad a phwyso a mesur ymateb pobol i fy ngwaith yn amhrisiadwy. Sy’n oglygu y bydd llawer mwy i ddod. This was an amazing oppurtunity and I spent weeks creating new and different stock to exhibit in the largest festival of competitive music and poetry in Europe. On the...
by Rhodri Owen | Mar 16, 2015 | English, woodworking
A translation of the one that’s already up there in Welsh from a few months ago. I intend to do this more often, bilingualy and not always on the same subject in both languages. I did mention on twitter that I’d written a short story loosely based on woodworking which I was excited about, but having reread the whole thing I’ll save you the bother. So here goes.. The workshop’s old. Not as old as 1904 because my grandfather (the wheelwright who’s holding the axe in the above image) hasn’t built it yet. Sometime in the next few years he built the shed that still stands to this day, on a dirt floor where the trailer stand between the two trees in the photo. The dirt floor isn’t there anymore; my dad put down railway sleepers sometime in the 60s or 70s. What’s more interesting is the natural busyness that’s to be seen and everyone with his job in a totally self sufficient community, and I’m not romanticising, (well maybe a little) but I’m of the opinion that villages in the countryside aren’t meant to be ‘quite little places’. The almshouses in the background are holiday homes, like many of the old cottages in the village and the nearby area, beacuse someone took their oppurtunity to exploit the natural beauty and the quiet that’s symptomatic of a failed economy. Anyway.. I’ve bought a bandsaw and thickness planer… positive noise pollution? Because of the new purchase, I’ve been spending the past days clearing and sorting around 80+ years of mess to make room. Finding all kinds of tools and other...
