Bronwen Gwillim’s work explores the hyper-local, using materials found within a mile or so of her home on the South Pembrokeshire coast in west wales.  This approach is inspired by the Welsh concept of Milltir Sgwâr - the sense of being embedded in your immediate environment, knowing it intimately and respecting all of its inhabitants. 

Bronwen’s materials are both “natural” and human-made: repurposed cloth, locally foraged earth pigment, home made plant binders and, the material she is most known for…..plastic. 

Using waste plastic which has been washed up on the beach fulfils her lust for bright colour while also supporting the efforts of local beach cleaners. Working with earth and plants connects her with the geology, flora and fauna of her locale. Led by these materials and their inherent materiality, her work flows between craft, painting, textiles, jewellery and sculpture. 

In this collection she collages materials together as shallow reliefs, weaving brightly coloured fishing twine to create delicate layers over marks made by the action of the sea. Rich earthy textures painted onto linen and cardboard are the backgrounds upon which bold saturated pinks, turquoise and orange plastic shapes glow. 

The work is underpinned by research into nano plastics within the marine environment, how their surfaces host complex, highly organised communities of algae, bacteria and fungi forming new composite surfaces which feed on both the plastic and each others waste.  But nano and micro plastic surfaces can also be magnets for toxic heavy metals and a feeding ground for dangerous pathogens. 

Whilst the plastics industry are keen to claim that there are biological solutions to plastic pollution it is clear we little understand these strange and complex ecologies and their long term impact on the more than human world.

These concerns manifest themselves in the work through the representation of these liminal zones and their inhabitants: contrasts of porosity and imperviousness, fragility and longevity.  Imagery represents nets and cages, things floating or trapped within an underwater world. There are mixes of fluorescent and earthy colours, hard and soft surfaces with shapes inspired by coronas, diatoms, and worms suggesting a microscopic world beyond our comprehension. 

Can you briefly introduce yourself and your artistic practice? What steps did you take to become the artist you are today?

I’ve had a very varied career in the arts, working with communities, schools and in health settings. I’ve always believed that being creative helps us connect to ourselves, to each other and to what's important.  During this time, I also studied Fine Art, metalsmithing and textiles, each time returning to art school to explore my obsession with making and materiality, but becoming increasingly concerned with the amount of stuff I was creating and to what end? Using materials that were considered waste helped alleviate that worry and inspired explorations into using broken glass from greenhouses, scrap metal, old clothes and most recently, plastic.  The material always comes first, and the more troublesome it is, the better!

Your practice draws inspiration from the Welsh concept of Milltir Sgwâr, emphasizing a deep connection to your immediate environment. How does this concept inform your artistic process?

Using what's to hand has always felt right to me, it’s a way of opting out of the whole culture of buying virgin materials from a rapidly depleting supply of natural resources whilst adding to climate change and increasing waste production.  But it's also a way of responding to your environment in a very mindful way. Walking daily close to home and noticing both the natural and unnatural things around me that are specific to my place enriches my practice. I live by the sea in a corner of Pembrokeshire in a place that brings together very rich natural habitats alongside oil refineries and power stations. They are all part of my milltir sgwâr, and I want my work to reflect those contradictions.  

The concept of ‘milltir sgwâr’ is deeply rooted in the heritage of small farms in Wales where generations of families would be intrinsically connected to a patch of land “their square mile”, their lives being totally intertwined with its landscape, plants, animals, knowing its daily, monthly and annual rhythms and the subtleties of the interplay between the land, sea and changing weather. Many older people may not have left their patch for years or even never, finding a richness, diversity and simple satisfaction in deep, embodied knowing.  

What motivated you to apply and participate in this online program? What were your initial goals and expectations?

The opportunity to work alongside other artists with regular gatherings and a chance to talk through my work was what initially attracted me to participate in the residency.  I wanted the structure to help me focus on producing a body of work whilst being challenged to think about what my work was really about and how it linked to my interests in sustainability and environmentalism. 

Can you tell us about the painting series you worked on during the residency?  What is the conceptual framework that gave life to the visual narrative and composition of the series?

I see my choice of materials and their colours as metaphors representing our choices as consumers - how we want it all - both a thriving natural world as well as the convenience of cheap food and a throw-away culture. I love the fast sugar-like rush of neon colour, even though I know it's made of damage-causing chemicals, whilst also being nurtured by the finding and slow grinding of earth colours that connect me to the land. 

This is the uncomfortable reality of our times. What must we give up, what can we keep? Can we take the best aspects of technological advances whilst not compromising our ability to protect the natural environment, embracing the benefits of new technological materials whilst valuing more naturally occurring ones?  Can artificial intelligence help us to realise a more equitable, just and sustainable future for humans whilst also appreciating and better understanding the broader range of intelligences of plants, animals and microbes? 

Your series incorporates both "natural" and human-made materials, including repurposed cloth, foraged earth pigment, and waste plastic. How do you see these materials as interconnected, and what tensions or harmonies do you explore through their juxtaposition?

Colour and material are my main drivers. I work mainly with plastic that is washed up on the beach. As I've said, I'm attracted to its chemical bright colours and the marks that tell of its journey across the sea to my shore. But I’m also drawn to the rich, earthy colours of the local geology and used the residency to explore how I might make paint from both these natural ochres as well as from reconstituting waste plastic into a paint-like material. 

I made lots of little paint swatches of my paint making experiments and played with the paint names as if from a fancy paint catalogue. My fellow artists on the residency helped with this and came up with names like Frackingly Fuschia, Defenseless Daydreams, Rainbow Correction, Sargasso Sap Green.  The names humorously suggested consumerism and the contradictions I'm particularly interested in. 

I chose to use repurposed waste cardboard and old linen clothing as my substrates onto which I painted the colour and added plastic motifs, grids and woven nets. I wanted to embrace the tension between my disparate materials but found it challenging to balance this with creating work that was unified, coherent, with strong composition and colour relationships. I think this difficulty mirrors the difficulty of our current situation regarding climate change and the nature crisis.

Your work is underpinned by research into nanoplastics and their complex ecologies. What can you tell us about this research, and what strategies do you use to translate these complex concepts into visually compelling artworks?

I'm interested in how what we consider natural and unnatural might strangely merge when forces beyond our current understanding are at play. Could plastics, in time, reconnect to their plant based origins? I was surprised that we know so little about the impact of tiny particles of plastic in our bodies, the soil, rivers and oceans. We know it's everywhere, but we don't know how it's interacting with the human and the more-than-human world. My research during the residency drew me to learn about new hybrid eco systems created by bacteria colonising nano plastics in the ocean. I took these ideas and used images of worm-like creatures, porous surfaces, algae and bacteria to inspire the visual language alongside nets, woven grids and marks made by the sea.  I like the idea that there could be a happy ending after all, even if humans are not part of it. 

Can you describe how you and your fellow artists inspired or learned from each other during the collaborative process?

Having 2 sessions a week where we came together provided an intensive way of connecting with each other, our work and the ideas presented in Joana’s lectures. The discipline of presenting work in progress and discussing ideas was crucial, as was the feedback we gave each other. Finding links between our work was also inspiring. It was clear that there were many ways to be an eco artist, but also lots of overlaps and ways to learn from each other. I found having a painter, writer and weaver the perfect complement to my work, and they all inspired me in different ways.

What role do you believe artists play in raising awareness about environmental issues and promoting sustainable practices, and what advice would you give to emerging artists who are passionate about environmental activism?

I live in a small village by the sea that is already being affected by climate change and rising sea levels, so for me, the priority is making connections with my community and building resilience. From the outside, it might not be obvious how my artistic work connects to this local community based activism, but for me, they are part of the same thing and intrinsic to my life and my connection to place.  I also have close links to other artist groups and have set up a Wales based collective concerned with sustainable practice.  It's called Cau’r Cylch, which means closing the circle in Welsh. So my advice is to look at what is close to you and build a community around issues that affect you most deeply, in whatever way works for you. The power to change things comes from a sense of community!

If you could give one piece of advice to future participants of this program, what would it be?

Come with an idea or a question in mind - however vague. Having a focus, such as trying out new materials or processes, producing work for an exhibition, some writing, or piece of research, might help focus your energy. The time goes quickly, and it's good to get going as soon as you can. 

Find out more about the artist here.

See the immersive virtual exhibition here.

Cover image:

Llyngyr/Wormish by Bronwen Gwillim.

All images courtesy of Bronwen Gwillim.