Lin Cummins:
Symudydd siâp / Shapeshifting
“Swimming is a rite of passage, a crossing of boundaries: the line of the shore, the bank of the river, the edge of the pool, the surface itself. When you enter the water, something like metamorphosis happens. Leaving behind the land, you go through the looking-glass surface and enter a new world, in which survival, not ambition or desire, is the dominant aim.”
Roger Deakin, 1999.
Ers y cyfnod cynharaf, mae bodau dynol wedi nofio mewn afonydd, llynnoedd a phyllau, ond yn fwy diweddar dysgodd mwyafrif y bobl, yn enwedig y rhai mewn trefi a dinasoedd, nofio yn amgylchedd glanweithiol y pwll nofio trefol. Mae’n bosibl bod enw da Prydain fel ‘dyn budr Ewrop’ yn y 1970au – o ganlyniad i’w methiant i reoli llygredd, a’r ffaith iddi osgoi rheoliadau nitrad a chyfarwyddebau dŵr ymdrochi – wedi effeithio rhywfaint ar amharodrwydd rhai pobl i nofio mewn dŵr agored. Wrth gwrs, i lawer mewn ardaloedd gwledig, nid yw nofio 'gwyllt' yn ddim byd newydd!
Dw i eisiau archwilio’r hyn sy’n ysgogi pobl i blymio i ddŵr ffres oer, yn y lle a’r amser penodol hwn: pa emosiynau a buddion y maent yn eu teimlo, a pha bryderon neu gwestiynau sydd ganddynt nhw am ansawdd dŵr croyw. Mae nofio dŵr croyw yn amlwg yn donig pwerus i lawer, a ffurfir cymunedau a chyfeillgarwch o angerdd a rennir, a chysylltiad a rennir â rhywbeth mor amrwd a rhydd. Mewn sgyrsiau gyda dim ond ychydig o'm cyd-nofwyr rwyf wedi dod o hyd i wybodaeth a mewnwelediadau nad ydynt yn y data swyddogol nac mewn adroddiadau yn y cyfryngau ar ansawdd dŵr; straeon bach yw’r rhain sydd gyda’i gilydd yn adrodd stori ddyfnach wedi’i chuddio dan yr wyneb.
Hefyd byddaf yn archwilio syniadau bodau dynol a rhywogaethau a bodau eraill yn y syniad o fyw fel rhan o gymuned hunangynhaliol, cymuned lle nad oes gan unrhyw un barth na grym dros y llall. Y gallu i oll fodoli a gellid eu trin yn gyfartal gyda’u anghenion a rennir, yn dychmygu sut y gallai fod i uno â'r cyrff rydym yn nofio ynddynt a phrofi safbwyntiau gwahanol.
Since the earliest of times, humans have swum in rivers, lakes and ponds, but in more recent times the majority of people, particularly those in towns and cities, learned to swim in the sanitised environment of the municipal swimming pool. Britain’s reputation as ‘the dirty man of Europe’ in the 1970s - a result of its failure to control pollution, and its evasion of nitrate regulations and bathing water directives - may have had some bearing on some people’s reluctance to swim in open water. Of course, for many in rural areas, ‘wild’ swimming is nothing new!
I want to explore what motivates people to plunge into cool fresh water, at this particular place and time: what emotions and benefits they feel, and what concerns or questions around fresh water quality they may have. Freshwater swimming is clearly a powerful tonic for many, and communities and friendships are formed from a shared passion, and a shared connection with something so raw and free. In conversations with just a few of my fellow swimmers I have found knowledge and insights that are neither in the official data nor in media reports on water quality; these are small stories that together tell a deeper story hidden under the surface.
I will also explore ideas of humans and other species and beings as part of a self-supporting community where no one has domain or power over the other. That all exist and could be treated as equals with shared needs. Imagining how it might be to merge with the bodies we swim in and experience different perspectives.
“I grew convinced that following water, flowing with it, would be a way of getting under the skin of things. Of learning something new. I might learn about myself too.”
Roger Deakin, 1999.*
Amdanaf i:
Rydw i wedi bod yn nofio yn yr awyr agored ers sawl blwyddyn; dw i’n casáu'r amgylchedd cynnes, yr awyrgylch fygu ac ôl-flas cemegol o bwll nofio. Dydw i ddim yn nofiwr cryf (a dydw i ddim yn hoff iawn o wlychu fy ngwallt) ac i mi mae’n ymwneud â dod o hyd i gysylltiad dyfnach â byd natur, a’r ôl-lewyrch meddyliol a chorfforol o ymgolli yn dŵr gwyllt a ffres.
Mae fy nwydau a’m gweith creadigol wedi’u gwreiddio yn y byd naturiol, byd dw i’n weld yn cael ei sathru dan draed, gyda chysylltiadau â’r doethineb yno’n cael eu hanwybyddu ac o bosibl ar goll. Mae natur yn fy ysbrydoli, mae'n fy nal, yn fy meithrin ac yn fy seilio.
Fel ffotograffydd, peintiwr, gwneuthurwr gemwaith, ysgrifennwr ac ail-bwrpasir o unrhyw beth a phopeth, rwy'n petruso rhag galw fy hun yn ‘artist’. Dw i’n feddwl llawer a dw i’n mwynhau darllen, ymchwilio, dysgu ac archwilio gwneud pethau, felly dyna beth ydw i, rwy’n un ohonyn nhw!
Lin Cummins
A little about me:
I’ve been outdoor swimming on and off for a several years; always hated the warm sickly environment and chemical aftertaste of the swimming pool. I’m not a strong swimmer (and I don’t really like getting my hair wet) and for me it is about finding a deeper connection with the natural world, and the mental and physical afterglow of being immersed in wild fresh water.
My passions and my creative practice are rooted in the natural world, a world that I see being trampled underfoot, with connections to the wisdom held there being ignored and potentially lost. Nature inspires me, it holds me, nurtures me and grounds me.
A photographer, painter, jewellery maker, writer and womble-like repurposer of anything and everything, I hesitate in calling myself an artist. I think a lot and I enjoy reading, researching, learning and exploring making stuff, so that’s what I am, I’m a one of them!
Lin Cummins