What's notable about Port Talbot? 1) Public Sculpture

 

Do you know, it’s only now that I’ve realised that there is actually very little public sculpture in Port Talbot? This does surprise me a little bit. After all, the common thing for a Victorian port and industrial town was for notable civic dignitaries and benefactors to have self-aggrandizing statues put up in prominent public spaces so that the hoi polloi could be reminded of who they should be grateful to. Nearby Neath, for example, has some. Port Talbot’s most prominent family in Victorian and Edwardian times were the Talbots, but thankfully they didn’t leave statues behind them, which is just as well because although absolutely minted they weren’t very picturesque.
 
Ironically, though, Port Talbot’s largest collection of public sculptures is in the grounds of their former home, Margam Castle. Now, on that subject, I think it’s worth me stating that a visit to the Tate Modern a few years ago confirmed that I am a philistine, and that I have neither understanding of, nor any emotional response to modern art. So while not all of the sculptures in the park do anything much for me, I’m willing to accept that this is my own fault. I’m very fond of this one, mind you. It’s by Glynn Williams, and called “The Shout”. I made this pencil sketch about 10 years ago.

It hasn't scanned very clearly because it's graphite pencil - this next sketch was made at the same time of another of the sculptures I rather like in Margam Park

Moving closer to town, in Taibach we have the war memorial in the Talbot Memorial Park. I’ve sketched this a couple of times. 

The memorial itself was erected in 1925; since then names of men of the town who died in the forces in World War II have also been added. It was sculpted by Louis Frederick Roslyn, and was unveiled on 4 July 1925 by Sir William R. Robertson. The park in which it stands was donated to the town by Miss Emily Charlotte Talbot of Margam Castle, and opened to the public in 1926.  25 or 30 years ago the council cleaned up the statue, and it seemed as if the whole thing had been left in a vat of coca cola for a week, since all the patination was taken away. I don’t know, maybe it was given a special coating of something. It just didn’t look right. Time has given it some of its patination and age back and it’s all the better for it now.

 

In the centre of the town, though, the only public sculptures were all erected since I moved to the town in 1986. I can’t remember exactly when Sebastien Boyesen’s “Man of Steel” was first erected between the then Police Station, and the railway station, but I fancy it was the late 1990s. As the title suggests, it’s made to honour the town’s links with the steel industry. That’s wholly praiseworthy in my book. I’ve always liked this statue, although not necessarily for any reason you might think. I like it because it’s incongruous. It seems rather out of place. For years just the sight of it was enough to put me in mind of Soviet Expressionist art from the Stalinist era. Our broad-shouldered Stakhanovite hero of the working class, going about his industrial heroics on a tall plinth, inspiring the proletariat to greater and greater feats of industry. I also like the way he seems to be carrying several planks of two by four, even though he’s supposedly a steel worker. Since it was erected the little green it stood on has gone, and it was moved to make it easier to build the mini ghost town that is the new bus station. I’m glad it’s still there.

 

The council had a couple of works of art installed to mark the Millennium. Once of these was a question mark shaped set of bronze tiles, decorated with designs and poetry, which was inset into the pavement on the entrance to the town’s main open air car park behind station road. This was stolen, apparently in broad daylight, in 2019. There’s little I can say about that – it would be childish for me to say that I hope that the perpetrators’ genitalia rots and drops off, although in all honesty I wouldn’t shed a tear if it did.

 

Thankfully, Sebastien Boyesen’s “Mortal Coil” is still in place beside the main post office. I like this one even more than “Man of Steel” This one too commemorates the town’s long associating with the metal working industries – going back to a copperworks which was established here in the 18^th century. I like the colour more than the gleaming chrome plating of “Man of Steel”. Also, it’s a more complex image. We have the altogether more human metalworker bent at his task, but he’s inside a huge wheel. What does it symbolise – the human being trapped within the wheels of industry? Is it showing the human heart providing the fuel for the wheels of industry? Probably both and more. I like the fact that it incorporates a poem by Port Talbot poet Hadyn Harries. For me this is a more typical example of Boyesen’s public work, and sits well alongside “The Bell Carrier” in Newport, and other public works in Doncaster and Blackburn, for example.

Then there's the astrolabe based sculpture outside the civic centre

I think it was designed by someone called H Christie, and it quite adequately reflects Port Talbot''s status as a port town - ironic since it isn't much of a port now. It's totally inoffensive, and I do like the lickle boat on the top. 

 

There are a couple of sculptures to be seen at Aberavon Beach. The Taper, and Kite Tail were both the work of Carmerthen based artist Andrew Rowe. Now, once you know what it’s called, it is easy to see what Kite Tail represents. 

However, before I knew what it represented, both my wife and I thought it was a musical treble clef gone mad. Kite Tail was said to be the largest piece of public sculpture in Wales when it was erected in 2007. It’s bigger than it’s companion piece, the Taper. 

Again, when you know what it’s called it makes perfect sense, but until then, it always reminded me of one half of a broken clothes peg without the spring.

 

The Four Winds bar and restaurant used to boast this sculpture laying above the entrance. Cards on the table, I always really rather liked this representation of a gigantic sunbather, because I think it shows a rather appealing aspect of the town. Let’s be honest, this beer bellied sun worshipper  wasn’t exactly a flattering image to represent the town’s beach users, but it shows a town at ease with itself and able to joke about itself. Originally  there were proposals to remove it as long ago as 2003, but protests from locals saved it at least for a few years.

 

Public protests also saved the concrete whale and these penguins nearby. I don’t know when it was first erected, but it was before I moved here in 1986. Sadly the other set of penguins, the other side of Franco’s restaurant were removed, and so was the remarkable submarine rising diagonally out of the ground behind Francos, although it was replaced by a playground and skate park.