Molten Metal Flow
Monday, 7 May 2012
Saturday, 5 May 2012
Wednesday, 18 April 2012
Herbert the Steelroller
Herbert the Steelroller - composition - Hwyl Nofio - Dark
In
my recorded work I have occasionally referred to steel manufacture and the
memory of my grandfather Herbert Parry - The abstract guitar composition ‘From
Elevated Gangways Rivers of Molten Metal Flow’ underlining the experience of
visiting a steelworks.
Herbert
worked as a steel roller and unfortunately died of gangrene poisoning when I
was only 3 years old. A quiet, dignified gentleman – he was someone I would
have liked to have had the opportunity to know better.
I
recall in my youth walking along a public footpath that cut through Panteg
Steelworks on my way to secondary school. The sights, sounds and smell of the
place reverberate to this day. The blistering heat of the furnace, the white
light sparks the deafening thud of an industrial hammer and the noxious gasses
that remained long in the nose and throat.
All
that remains today are the echoes of memories of a once heavy industrial
landscape. Currently the site is being developed as residential housing and the
Parc Panteg housing estate. The industrial buildings and structures have been
removed and remedial work in relation to land contamination has been carried
out, in its place there appears yet another LEGOLAND development with the
promise of a better lifestyle, devoid of character.
But
what about people and jobs you may ask. Panteg steel works was founded in 1873 and
operated for over 130 years until its closure in 2004. At one point 900 people
were employed producing stainless steel at Panteg. Throughout its history many
thousands of people including my grandfather Herbert Parry were employed in the
manufacture of steel. Others benefitted throughout the local community as the
factory provided work for many trades and businesses.
Working
in steel production was extremely hard, hot, filthy work that often acutely
affected your health, but it wasn’t only a job it was the opportunity of
employment and with it a way of life.
Today
– the eastern Afon Valley seems intent on promoting itself in terms of its
industrial heritage. Museums of rail, steel, iron and coal attract visitors from
far and wide to experience the relics of the past and presumably part with
their cash. Men dress up as coal miners and tell a tale or two as the cage
descends into the dark – the illusion is real!
Culture
and society are intricately related. Through culture and society people and
groups define themselves. Today the valley appears to have become an industrial
theme park?
What
follows is a partial account of Herbert’s working life by my father John Parry.
HERBERT
PARRY - STEELWORKER - EARLY
MEMORIES OF THE LATE 1930s AND 1940s
My
Dad, Herbert Parry was a Roller in the Richard Thomas & Baldwins Steelworks
at Panteg about a mile and a half from where we lived in New Inn, Pontypool.
A
roller was the leader of a team of men who took Steel ingots which had been
heated in the furnaces to a very high temperature and rolled the steel in large
metal rollers until it was the required thickness and size. There would be a
number of Rollers in a large steelworks like Panteg.
The
roller was paid on the tonnage they processed and he then paid his men. The
roller had to be highly skilled and was rewarded accordingly.
I
remember asking my Dad why he did not progress to Manager of all the rolling
mills and he told me he would be getting a lot less money. I believe at the
time my Dad was earning £20 a week compared with the Manager's £8 a week.
The
roller and his men had very tough and onerous jobs. They had to manhandle the
steel ingots on to the rolling mill and using large tongs they manoeuvred the
steel back and fro between the large rollers until it met the size needed and
the right quality. My Dad liked dealing with stainless steel as it was very
challenging and possibly more lucrative for the team.
The
heat in the rolling mills and furnace areas was very high which, with the heavy
work, made the men sweat profusely. They all wore flannel shirts with a sweat
clothes around their necks and needed to drink a lot to stop being dehydrated.
During the shift they drank a lot of tea which they had brought from home in
metal canisters. I can remember I was often asked by my Mam ( Hilda) to take a
fresh can of tea to my Dad at the Steelworks during the shift. To get there I
used to go along the road to Griffithstown and cut across the fields and then
climb over a large pipe to cross the Afon Llwyd river and then go in the back
way to the Rolling Mills. My Dad was always pleased to see me with the tea
which was very welcome.
After the shift my
Dad took his team to the pub near the Steelworks and made sure his team made up
for the moisture they had lost. My dad had a good team and it was his way of
showing his personal appreciation for their hard work. They then went home for
a good bath as they were dirty and their clothes were sweaty.
During the evenings
when my Dad was not working he would go to meetings of the Royal Order of
Buffalos of which he was President, to the Home Guard or to socialise with
friends at the pubs in the village. My Dad was a very generous man and usually
would be the first up to the bar.
My visits to the
Steelworks gave me a good insight on what it was like working there. Sometimes,
when my Dad and I were having an argument, I would say that I was going to work
at the Steelworks which was the last thing he wanted me to do. This did not
happen very often as my Dad was a very even tempered and gentle man.
Unfortunately, by the
late 1940's my Dad was taken ill with dermatitis and had to give up his job as
a roller as it was considered that his illness was related to his work. He took
a job as a labourer in the steelworks which was a huge drop in wages. At the
time he was just over 50.
I often thought that
maybe he would have been better off if he had accepted the earlier offers to be
a Manager but it is easy to be wise after the event.
The large drop in
income made a big difference in my Dad's life style and I was sad to see many
of his friends disappear. There were some loyal friends who tended to be in the
same situation as my Dad and they remained loyal. This was a lesson to my Dad
and to me.
John Parry, April
2012
Monday, 26 March 2012
Hwyl Nofio - Dark - Anti-Clock
I
have always admired people who think outside the box; mavericks who take risks as
a matter of necessity, not journeymen purely playing by the rules.
I
recall with great joy discovering the philosophy and music of John Cage, the
photography of Man Ray, the painting of Salvador Dali who embraced the science
of painting as a way to study the psyche through subconscious images. I appreciate the disturbing twisted images of
the soul created by Francis Bacon. I
find the same zest for the unknown in the Yorkshire born improvisational
guitarist Derek Bailey who creates an abstract language all of its own
making.
I
am an admirer of Surrealism and other forms of abstract art. The cinema, Luis
Buñuel, especially his early films made with Salvador Dali: Un chien andalou
(1928), with a perpetually shocking opening shot of the eye being sliced by a
razor, and L'Âge d'or (1929), a sacrilegious mix of quasi-scientific
documentary, psychoanalytic symbolism and eye-catching visual imagery. In 1929
Man Ray created Le Mystère du château de dés with Duchamp and L'Étoile de mer, centred
on a poem by Desnos, relying on improvisation to produce a kind of ‘automatic
cinema’.
Some
people have even suggested that the basic rhetoric of cinema is Surrealist in
essence. I stumbled upon the work of Jane Arden by accident really. Intrigued
by the abstract/experimental nature of her films and the fact we both originate
from the same town – I wanted to learn more. Jane Arden (née Norah Patricia
Morris) was born at 47 Twmpath Road, Pontypool in 1927. Jane Arden was an
actress, author, filmmaker and poet whose screenwriting and directorial work of
the late 60s and 70s explored themes of social isolation and ‘madness’, sexual
politics and radical feminism. The films Arden wrote and directed with
director-producer Jack Bond (Dali in New York, It Couldn’t Happen Here) are a unique and unclassifiable body of work,
ranging from Separation’s counter-cultural splendour of swinging 60s London to
Anti-Clock’s boundary-pushing psycho-exploration. The 1966 documentary Dalí in
New York chiefly consists of the renowned surrealist artist Salvador Dalí and
Arden walking the streets of New York discussing Dali’s work. This film was
resurrected and shown at the 2007 Tate Gallery Dalí exhibition.
For
her last film, ‘Anti-Clock’ (1979) Arden also wrote and performed the
soundtrack. Anti-Clock is a complex and fascinating experimental exploration of
time and identity. ‘Anti-Clock remains a film of genuine, startling originality
utilising both cinema and video techniques, Arden and Bond create a movie that
captures the anxiety and sense of danger that has subverted the consciousness
of so many people throughout western society. ‘Anti-Clock ‘engages its audience
by being mysterious, disturbing, fascinating and exhilarating.
Throughout
her life Arden remained interested in other cultures and faiths which in turn took
the form of a personal spiritual quest. Jane Arden was clearly an adventurous,
complex artist who frequently tackled very challenging subject matter in variable
forms of media.
The
extraordinary career of British film-director, screenwriter, playwright and
actor Jane Arden came to an abrupt end when she committed suicide on Dec. 20,
1982 in North Yorkshire. She was buried in Darlington West Cemetery. In 2011 her remains were exhumed and moved by
her family to Highgate Cemetery in London. Jane Arden remains a unique figure
in British post-war culture.
The Hwyl Nofio composition ‘Anti Clock’ as featured
on the forthcoming album ‘Dark’ is my tribute to her.
Labels:
Anti-Clock,
Author,
Dark,
Filmmaker,
Hwyl Nofio,
Jane Arden,
Poet,
Pontypool
Friday, 23 March 2012
Away with the Fairies
In the summer of 2011 I returned to Pontypool with my wife to
visit locations and research various themes in relation to the project Dark. Staying
in an old barn conversion on Coity Mountain I was able to explore the surrounding
landscape and investigate the legends that
have remained a constant source of fuel to the imagination. Looking into
the genealogy of my family has revealed many interesting stories and characters.
This research has shown we had lived amidst these hills and valleys for
hundreds of years.
My Mother Annie had been a church organist and several of her
family are interred in the family tomb at Ebenezer Chapel. Cwmffrwrdoer. Ebenezer Chapel is associated with the rather
eccentric Rev Edmund Jones aka the Prophet of the Tranch. The Rev Edmund Jones is
fascinating not only for being a man of God but also for believing in fairies. His
only education was gained from the curate of Aberystruth, Howel Prosser – a man
who actually took part in a fairy funeral.
Edmund Jones had a deep interest in astrology and seemingly possessed a
genuine gift of prophecy.
In 1740, Edmund Jones came to live near Pontypool, residing
in an old cottage called Lower Pen-tranch. On a personal note I discovered that
Lower Pen Tranch had since been owned by the family of my Great Great Grandmother Mary Jane Curtis. My Mother recalls visiting the cottage as a little girl and being enchanted by the old place. The house remains to this day and appears in the same condition as when
the Prophet lived there. The ground
floor contains a small room called the Prophet’s Study in which he wrote his
books. These books contain a collection
of stories about extraordinary apparitions, or spirits, to all of which are
assigned a divine or diabolical origin.
He was noted in the district for foretelling things, for having the
ability to predict the future.
Edmund Jones books provide a remarkable insight into life in
the valley before the Industrial Revolution. He discovered a predominantly
Welsh speaking community immersed in a way of life, possessing diverse customs
and folk-lore; Religion being an eclectic mix of Pagan Mythology and Celtic
Christianity.
Edmund Jones succeeded in raising sufficient money to build Ebenezer
Chapel. To complete the building he had
to sell his beloved books for £15. For
the tiny income of £3 a year, he served his congregation until his death in
1791 at the age of 91. Fairies are said to have been seen playing in the
Churchyard, perhaps hiding among gravestones.
I like the sound of the old Rev Edmund Jones; the term ‘away
with the fairies’ has been attributed to him by some people.
Hwyl Nofio - Fairy folk funeral - Dark
Hwyl Nofio - Fairy folk funeral - Dark
Saturday, 3 March 2012
Hwyl Nofio - Dark
Hwyl Nofio – Dark -
(Ltd Edition: Music CD/Hardback Photobook Project 2012)
'Dark'
is essentially about a South Wales Valley;
Pontypool and the eastern valley to be more precise, an area that lies
straggled beside the river that runs through it. The Afon Lwyd (English: The
Grey River).
A personal heritage runs deep throughout the landscape. Like the lost tunnels mined by the hand of human slavery the music and poetry of the place runs in the blood. Pontypool was not that long ago an industrial landscape scarred by a succession of iron, coal, steel and glass - this was the landscape and playground of childhood.
I have lived in many places; I have settled in Yorkshire; however the heart and soul remain routed firmly in the valley. I return as often as possible to bask in this magical place. As a boy I would sit on the Black mountain listening to the sounds emanating from the valley; the sounds of coal trucks scraping along steel rails, the solitary chime of a church bell, dogs’ barking in the distant streets. This had been the soundtrack of youth. A strange mystical land informed by stories of people, spirits and legends – the sights of white light heat spitting from the furnace and the constant drone of the church organ.
A personal heritage runs deep throughout the landscape. Like the lost tunnels mined by the hand of human slavery the music and poetry of the place runs in the blood. Pontypool was not that long ago an industrial landscape scarred by a succession of iron, coal, steel and glass - this was the landscape and playground of childhood.
I have lived in many places; I have settled in Yorkshire; however the heart and soul remain routed firmly in the valley. I return as often as possible to bask in this magical place. As a boy I would sit on the Black mountain listening to the sounds emanating from the valley; the sounds of coal trucks scraping along steel rails, the solitary chime of a church bell, dogs’ barking in the distant streets. This had been the soundtrack of youth. A strange mystical land informed by stories of people, spirits and legends – the sights of white light heat spitting from the furnace and the constant drone of the church organ.
(All images and text are copyright © Steve Parry
2012 – I don’t take kindly to people stealing my work - Thankyou)
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