Mumbles Head

“Wave
upon wave break
scintillates
the headland

breaches
harbour wall

seeps through substrate

floods
chamber and hall

withdraws in turn

across a fractal shore

in promiscuous tumult.

Sirens call.

Gulls squall.

Ariadne
looks out with Faith

Art and Philosophy

on the rocks

unsung ghosts
of Argive mariners

ancient and young

whistle.

Tides rise

Tides fall”

RG

A writer, photographer and printmaker, I was born in Wivenhoe, Essex in 1967, a scruffy village with a quayside on the Colne estuary. In the Sixties and Seventies, it was home to a bohemian community of
artists and writers, with strong links to luminaries of the London literary and art worlds.

I was the youngest, by far, of four brothers. My father was a journalist and broadcaster, my mother a hostess and entertainer. It was a lively household, to say the least.  And with the Wivenhoe Arts Club occupying the stable block, one of the social hubs of village life.

It was an idyllic childhood. I was largely ignored and had the freedom of the village, mudlarking between the boats on the quay, knocking on the doors of such houses in the village that were open to me. My favourite of these was the studio of Roy and Gail Cross. We had some of Roy’s huge (to me at the time) abstract paintings in the house.  With all its paints and pigments, oils and admixtures his studio seemed to me like an alchemist’s apothecary, or Merlin’s cave. A place of magic and wonder.

I was packed off to boarding school at the first opportunity. As terms passed, childhood segued int youth. Our cosmopolitan gang loved to hate the place, but those were happy days, and our sorrows greatly exaggerated.

Perhaps I’d have been better suited to art school but somehow I made it to Cambridge, where I studied history. On arrival I emptied my digs of furniture and set them up as a painting studio. I was a model student. I treated lectures as an optional inconvenience and I drank and read a lot.

 I left without a degree hoping to pursue a career in the film business and landed a job as a runner for Ridley Scott's production company. I would go on to work as a
freelancer in film and theatre production in various capacities, as a script reader and report writer for leading production companies, on stage-set design and build, and as a writer and copy editor in various sectors.

 I’ve travelled a bit, been lost more than once, seen something of the world. I’ve been blessed with a beautiful son. Still, plenty remains to be seen.

 I live in the Mumbles now, a fishing village on the Gower peninsular in old South Wales, finding inspiration on my walks along its cliffs and tidal zones, its history and geology.

The creative journey is never linear. It is a process of constant feedback, of conversation and evolution, of learning from the past while living in the moment and walking backwards into the future. The works here are born of that conversation, informed an understanding that everything
is alive; that we live on and in a sentient world in a conscious universe that speaks to us in manifold ways.

 Wave upon wave, life breaks and recedes, leaving behind traces of our stories on a fractal shore. Each wave a moment, a memory that shapes who we are. The shore a mental canvas, ever changing and
evolving. The patterns left by the receding tide reflect the beauty and
complexity of our own journeys.

  The archival quality limited edition prints offered here are individually produced to order by The Printspace, London’s leading photographic and fine art print lab, in and end-to-end carbon neutral process. They come numbered, with certificates of authenticity.

Sister facilities in the US and EU reduce transport costs to those territories. This also means no customs duty is imposed on orders to the EU or US for print-only or standard framed prints.

We are committed to donating 1% of our revenue to environmental projects and are actively reaching out to find trusted partners.

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