Sorry. This blog comes with a warning – it’s out of date! If you haven’t already entered this years ‘Welsh Artist of the Year’, it’s not going to happen. So for you guys out there who didn’t know about this competition and wouldn’t have minded entering, then tough luck basically, try next year – or sorry for not letting you know sooner (in other words!)
Though to be honest, I only managed to get my application form into the post at the eleventh hour. Still waiting to hear if I have made it. (I’m sure they’ll take my five quid entry fee none the less).
This year is the ninth year of the competition, which is an interesting fact, as the competiion was only intended to be a one off feature. Since then the support and interest has grown year after year.
Last years triumphee (which is not a word by the way – but should definately be one) was Philippa Lawrence, which is shown above on the entry form and as a seperate image below. Trees wrapped in coloured cottons stole the show with a significant presence within the exhibition space. Photographs of the installation of various coloured adaptations of dying trees, from across a number of Welsh counties, followed you from the bottom of the stairs of the exhibition to the main area at the top.
The photographic prize went to Anthony Stokes with this piece entitled Cardiff Castle. The detail and depth to this photographic work was a really exciting edition to the show, which greatly deserved the honours.
The colours and complete abstract appeal is overwhelming in this work. Quite possibly you may have experienced the same initial response as myself almost a year ago. What am I looking at? A mosaic? Or even a dodgy photoshop effect 🙂 (no insult intended there) – but this image deserves a lot more credit. The abstract photographic print has a mysterious side that grabs hold of your thoughts and internal process of reading an image.
My entry has a depth that I feel warrents a place at the exhibition. It’s a photograpahic print that, houses the feeling of nostalgia and fragility in a melting pot of the inevitable destruction. Hopefully the stepping over of rats, climbing upon window ledges, chairs and entering through doors that disguise themselves as squeaky fur balls – the whole journey will conclude successfully and act as a form of rembrance to a community and their stolen entity.