Still Life Rhos on Sea

We are back! New time, new place! 
We are now meeting in Colwyn Bay Cricket Club’s Pavilion, Penrhyn Avenue, on Friday mornings from 11am to 1pm.

We will be welcoming back long-time members and have room for some new ones. 

Alas, we can’t offer a drop-in at the moment so you will need to contact us first.

If you would like to join our group, please email or use the contact form on this website.

Supported by the Gwynt Y Mor and Rhyl Flats funds, and in the footsteps of our Conwy group, the format remains the same.

This is an informal, friendly and relaxed art workshop for anybody (16+) who has been bereaved, at any time. You don’t need to have any experience to take part, and the atmosphere is very laid back!

This isn’t art therapy, and we aren’t counsellors, but it is a chance to leave difficult feelings at the door for the couple of hours and focus on something completely different.

If you would like to contact us to discuss joining the group, or find out more, please use the form below or email: l

Updated November 2021

Still Life Conwy

We have just re-opened our Conwy Still Life group after a ‘break’ of 18 months during which time we have been making art at home each week.
Because of Covid restrictions our numbers are limited and the group is currently full.
Sadly, we can no longer offer an open door drop-in policy.

If you are over 16,  and have lost someone important, whether that person was a relative,  friend or colleague – please do contact us so that we can get in touch when normal service resumes.

Everyone taking part – including the group organiser and workshop artists –   has a shared experience of how that feels.  

This isn’t art therapy, and we aren’t counsellors, but it is a chance to leave difficult feelings at the door for the couple of hours and focus on something completely different. Thankst our funders, there is no charge – all sessions are free. And above all … you don’t have to be ‘good at art’ to take part.

We are ALWAYS open to ideas and suggestions. If there’s an artform you would like to try, please let us know!

Updated November 2021

We’re back – and making art to music!

It’s been a long time coming but The Escape Artists’ groups are back in business after 18 months of working at it from home

And we’ve been mixing media with two weeks of painting inspired by music.

Ever tried dancing and painting at the same time? We have!

Our Conwy group i currently at capacity because of CV19 rules, and our open door policy is suspended.

We do have space in our Rhos on Sea group. Click here for details...

Hopefully normal service will resume…one day!

Here’s one we made earlier…

We have been keeping busy and creative as we look forward to meeting again.

Chrissie has created a fabulous dress using old – or should that be pre-loved – denim jeans. (This was how Biba started! Watch this space!)

Beth has been inspired to have a go at rubbing pastel chalks over wallpaper using and kitchen utensils – to wonderous effect!

Meanwhile, I (Jill) have been enjoying gardening and photography. This self-portrait with water lily was taken at Bodnant.

Click on the images to see them in all their glory!

Boats ahoy!

What is it about paper boats that makes them so satisfying? Nostalgia? Maybe…

Thanks to Sian’s guide to the art we have been turning out a stylish flotilla of little boats.

First in was Bethan’s, complete with authentic seashore finds and the boat’s crew fashioned from plasticine!

Next in the fleet came Rachel’s jaunty craft on a lively sea.

Treasured islands…

Escaping is the not – so-hidden theme for our poetry illustration this month,.

What with everything that’s going on in the world a week marooned on a desert island – no masks, no food shortages and the isolation without the pings ? What’s not to love?

Beth was straight off to a blue lagoon somewhere tropical with this clever combination of water colour and collage. Rachel was right behind her with this lovely interpretation of John Betjeman’s ode to Ynys Mon, in chalk pastels. Just floated in on a raft is Gemma with this idyllic blue lagoon…

A Bay in Anglesey

by John Betjeman

The sleepy sound of a tea-time tide

Slaps at the rocks the sun has dried,

Too lazy, almost, to sink and lift

Round low peninsulas pink with thrift.

The water, enlarging shells and sand,

Grows greener emerald out from land

And brown over shadowy shelves below

The waving forests of seaweed show.

Here at my feet in the short cliff grass

Are shells, dried bladderwrack, broken glass,

Pale blue squills and yellow rock roses.

The next low ridge that we climb discloses

One more field for the sheep to graze

While, scarcely seen on this hottest of days,

Far to the eastward, over there,

Snowdon rises in pearl-grey air.

Multiple lark-song, whispering bents,

The thymey, turfy and salty scents

And filling in, brimming in, sparkling and free

The sweet susurration of incoming sea.

The Lake Isle of Innisfree

by WB Yeats

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,

And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:

Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,

And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,

Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;

There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,

And evening full of the linnet’s wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day

I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;

While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,

The Island

RS Thomas

One particular time after a harsh morning of rain

The clouds lifted

The winds fell

There was a resurrection of nature

And we were to emerge 

With it into the anointed air

I wanted to say ‘we will remember this’

But tenses are out of place on that green island

Ringed with the rain’s bow that we had found 

and would spend the rest of our lives looking for.

If Once You Have Slept on and Island

by Rachel Field

If once you have slept on an island 

You’ll never be quite the same; 

You may look as you looked the day before 

And go by the same old name, 

You may bustle about in street and shop; 

You may sit at home and sew, 

But you’ll see blue water and wheeling gulls 

Wherever your feet may go. 

You may chat with the neighbours of this and that 

And close to your fire keep, 

But you’ll hear ship whistle and lighthouse bell 

And tides beat through your sleep. 

Oh, you won’t know why, and you can’t say how 

Such change upon you came, 

But – once you have slept on an island

You’ll never be quite the same!