Gwen John: Strange Beauties

Time for another jaunt, this time by train to Cardiff's National Gallery with my friend Cathy, to see the exhibition of art by one of my favourite painters, Gwen John.

First thing we saw upon entering the Gallery was Bristol-based artist, Luke Jerram's 'Museum of the Moon', which we both found a bit underwhelming, though interestingly, it looks far more impressive in photos than in real life. 

It's decades since I first encountered Gwen John. At that time, her brother, Augustus, was the more famous sibling, and I particularly liked his famous portrait of a very young Dylan Thomas, but I was soon drawn more to Gwen's portraits of women who gazed directly out of the canvas - or sat with their backs to it - and her repeated paintings of a sunlit attic room, furnished with a chair and a book. I dreamed of having a space to myself like that.

Self-Portrait, c1902

Self-Portrait, 1905

Self-Portait, Nude, Sketching (1908 - 1909)

La Chambre sur la Cour, 1904 - 1907

A Corner of the Artist's Room in Paris, 1907

A Lady Reading, 1910

To his credit, Augustus was also aware of her genius, declaring 'Fifty years after my death, I shall be remembered as Gwen John's brother'.

                            

Portrait Group, 1897

In the above watercolour, Winifred John, Gwen's sister, is seated at the table in white; Augustus John is the figure wearing the hat; the artist is the woman visible through the window.

'Gwen, the Artist's sister' by Augustus John

Gwen was born in Haverfordwest in Pembrokeshire in 1876, moving at the age of 8 to Tenby, following her mother's death.

Landscape of Tenby with figures, 1896-97

In 1895, she left Wales to study at the Slade School of Art in London, never to return, and by 1904 she was settled in Paris, working as an artist and an artist's model. Before long she was modelling for Auguste Rodin, and in a relationship with him.

Head of Gwen John, by Auguste Rodin

This is the famous association everyone remembers, but John had intense, intimate relationships with men and women throughout her life. She acquired her first cat in 1904 and named her Edgar Quinet, after the street she was living in. Around 1913, she entered the Catholic Church. She lived her life on her own terms.

Study after 'Spirit of Eternal Repose', 1905

I have to say, I had hoped the exhibition might have been rather more extensive than it is, though the artworks the museum assembled to exhibit were thoughtfully displayed. For instance, I loved seeing five of the ten versions of 'The Convalescent' John is known to have painted between 1918 and 1924 side-by-side ... 

... and also certain paintings displayed above their studies:

  

Girl with Bare Shoulders and Nude Girl, both 1910 

It's been many years since I read Sue Roe's biography, Gwen John A Life. Time I think, to read Alice Foster's Gwen John: Art and Life in London and Paris (2023).

Dylan Thomas Birthday Walk Part I: And there could I marvel my birthday away

The sky turned red and then stopped being red and the Poetry Festival ended with readings from Sarah Howe, Karen McCarthy Woolf and Rishi Dastidar; plus two poetry shows, The Venus Papers and the resonant and enthralling Leasungspell. I hadn't managed to get to every event, but still clocked up ten in a fortnight which is a lot for an introverted type much more at home wrapped up in a knitted blanket with a cup of tea.  It had been great ... but exhausting.

There was a birthday - mine - looming too, the observation of which I've always found a bit overwhelming. But the Northerner sets store by such markers, so I girded my lions and other big cats and we set off for Laugharne in Carmarthenshire ... 

... to Brown's Hotel, to be precise, which we'd visited earlier in the year. This time we were staying the night. With the dog. Because in Brown's, dogs are welcome.  

After a settling-in drink, we set out on Dylan Thomas's Birthday Walk, which provides the grist for Poem in October ...  

... a long, lyrical excursion which is, I suspect, especially beloved of his fellow October-borns.   

Having visited Dylan and Caitlin's grave in May, we didn't feel the need to go back there so soon. Better to focus on the living word. 

As it was, the churchyard was rather more sombre than it had been in the lushness of May.

At the church door we encountered a woman who was just finishing the cleaning, so I asked her if I could pop in for a moment. 'Are your boots clean?' she asked. I looked down at my walking shoes which were still covered in a slip of grey Sussex chalk. Luckily they are grey anyway. 'Sort of,' I said.

She'd lived in Laugharne all her life, she said, and asked if we liked Dylan's poetry. 'He was never as bad as they make out,' she said. 'It was That New York that Did For Him.' 

She mentioned Augustus John, and when I said he'd been Caitlin's 'lover' when Dylan and Caitlin met, she winced a little. 'You know, I think they only did what poetry told them to do,' I said, borrowing a useful line from Birthday Letters. 'Or ... art - you know - in the case of Augustus.'

10th century Celtic Cross

We continued our walk, which took us down a deep lane that eventually wound around to the coast. 

Oak

Field Maple

The good red mud of the West Country which had been overlain by the grey chalk slip of Sussex was now being covered by the good red mud of Carmarthenshire. 

Rhossili Down and Worms Head in the far distance

The Boathouse, decidedly less bustling than in May

We'd intended to continue our walk up over Sir John's Hill, but while we were wandering, the weather had turned around, as in the poem, and Storm Brian was blowing in. 

So we repaired to Brown's and Ted, who thinks everywhere we visit is potentially a new, long-term abode, made himself at home. 

The Pelican, where Dylan's parents were tenants from 1949 to 1953 and where Dylan's wake was held