The Usk and me by Gerard Whyman

                    

Having lived all my life on the west side of Newport, the River Usk has always seemed like a border that leads to the 'other side', a part of Newport that's largely unknown to me. It's just as well that the three significant things in my life that have required me to cross Newport Bridge are within a stone's throw from it - albeit a mighty stone's throw!

The first trips across the River Usk would have been to go to the Odeon cinema as a child to see the occasional film, a treat reserved for birthdays or school holidays. If memory serves me correctly the first film I saw was Disney's 'The Aristocats', at about five, old enough to be able to concentrate on a lengthy film without fidgeting too much! 'Herbie Rides Again' and 'The Amazing Mr Blunden' are two other films I recall from the time but I especially remember seeing 'Towering Inferno' one April evening in 1975 on the occasion of my ninth birthday, a sort of 'coming of age' moment -  my first 'A' rated film meant for grown ups.

In some ways the Odeon's auditorium was more memorable than some of the films I saw there. It had a grandeur about it with impressively huge speaker grills either side of the screen and large octagonal shaped ceiling lights that glowed a warm orange colour that slowly faded into darkness to signal the start of the film. Its grandeur, however, couldn't quite hide the fact that the place looked a bit 'worn at the edges' and was entering its twilight years. The last film I saw there was on a school trip in early 1981, our English class seeing a version of  'King Richard III' to aid our 'O' level studies. Six months later the doors shut for good on the Odeon.

A little later on from seeing my first film at the Odeon  I also made my first visit to Rodney Parade to see Newport RFC, the 'Black and Ambers', play - another trip across the river. My dad was a keen rugby fan and would sometimes go to watch home games. I recall one Saturday afternoon we caught a number 3 bus together at the Cardiff Road bus stop near our home to go to town. The ground was just across the river from the Dock Street bus station so not a long walk. I remember that the game was against Wasps, an English side, so naturally enough I thought that they were wearing the 'wasp like' black and yellow hooped jerseys. Later I discovered that was our team - just as well as they were the team that won that afternoon!

I recall my dad meeting his brother and fellow fan there, my Uncle Cliff, who offered me a sweet from a crumpled white paper bag held in his hand. It was probably the highlight of the afternoon as the game itself appeared a complete mystery to me as a six year old with no idea of what was going on. However, in time, I became a rugby fan myself and in later years crossed Newport Bridge on many occasions to watch them play, more in hope than expectation given the team's fortunes over the seasons. Sadly I never got to experience the bond that can develop between father and son through supporting the same team, sharing the same highs and lows that come with victory and defeat. My dad died suddenly in September 1972 aged just 46 but I remain thankful we did at least share one game together.

 

If trips across the river were infrequent in earlier years they would be more regular some years later as a student at what was then Gwent College of Higher Education at Clarence Place, to study graphic design from 1986 to 1989. Unlike crossing Newport Bridge to get to a place of entertainment in the form of film and sport, these journeys across the river were to further my education and advance my career in art and design - a metaphorical bridge to success!

The Clarence Place college building was - and still is - an impressive Edwardian red brick built structure and had an academic air that is seldom seen in modern colleges and universities. The long, green tiled corridors, a grand central staircase and an imposing green copper dome on top of the building certainly added weight to this feeling. Unfortunately my time there was not the happiest of experiences for me - maybe the design orientated course ran too much against the grain of my more illustrative nature. Looking back now, maybe the struggle I had there was not such a bad training in becoming a practising artist; it's a vicissitudinous career at the best of times and struggles are all part and parcel of the business.

After thirty-one years of graduating I have had a career that's included illustrating, cartooning, caricaturing and become known for doing architectural drawings and paintings which led to an art exhibition of Newport architecture in 2017 at Barnabas Arts House. I can't honestly say this is directly attributable to my time at college, but the constant backdrop of the town, now city, must have seeped into the subconscious and then seeped onto paper and canvas.

 

A few years ago I met up with some former fellow students to explore the old art college in its new existence as an apartment block. It was strange to think that the places we worked in studiously (or otherwise), larked and joked about in and shared tales and secrets in were now people's bathrooms, kitchens, bedrooms and living rooms. Then again, maybe it's not so strange - it's all life after all. The Odeon cinema, the old Art College and, to some degree, Rodney Parade have changed but still survive, moving on very much like the flow of the Usk.