This is an audio description of a black and white photograph, called The smallest school in the UK. Four students. Field nature lesson. It was taken in Llaneglwys, Powys, in 1978 by the renowned Magnum documentary photographer David Hurn. In 2017 David Hurn donated his entire photography collection, including this image, to National Museum Wales. It originally existed as a film negative, but it has since been digitally scanned and printed for us to enjoy. Now I’m going to describe it for you.

We’re looking at a woodland scene. Four young children follow their teacher along a felled tree which spans the width of the photograph. They all look down at the tree to prepare for their next step and use their arms to balance, like gently sloping wings.

In front of the fallen tree towers a patch of foxgloves and behind is the wood, composed of different species of trees with gaps in between where the light peers through. The trees rise majestically, those in the shade with darker limbs and canopies. There’s an edge of mystery and excitement to what lies further within the wood, past the overhanging branches and those that have been piled on the ground. A covering of pine needles stirs the senses!

The bark of the felled tree could almost resemble the wrinkles and creases of a mighty elephant! The foxgloves at the front of the image also have a magic about them. Foxgloves can grow to a height of two meters, with clusters of bell shaped flowers and oval velvety leaves. The foxgloves in this woodland don’t disappoint, rivalling and climbing higher than the children behind.

The children, three girls and then a boy, are a couple of steps behind their teacher and in ascending order of age and height. The gentle incline of 70’s children’s fashion, sandals and socks, knee length dresses and cardigans, t shirt lapels, flares and cute bobbed hair is full of charm and can’t help but make you smile.

The children’s clothes are light and cheery. Their teacher is dressed plainly in a black, woven cardigan, knee length skirt, blouse and sandals. She has a thick, wavy bob of hair. A serious expression accompanies the formality of her dress and professionalism.

The children are a step apart from each other. There may be an orderliness and sameness to their gestures, but smiles peek through at the fun of it all.

The little girl at the front is photographed mid step, her front leg hidden behind a foxglove. With her shoulders hunched, she could almost be a puppet on invisible strings being guided carefully along, taking delicate steps. It’s serious business walking along a tree and she is certainly doing her very best! A very enjoyable lesson indeed!

David Hurn lives and works in Tintern, Wales, and is one of the most influential documentary photographers working in Britain, with an international reputation. He set up the famous School of Documentary Photography in Newport, in 1973. He turned away from coverage of current affairs, to take a more personal approach to photography. And this personal approach certainly comes across in this joyful photograph.

This is an audio description of a painting called Hillside in Wales, by Richard Eurich who lived between 1903 and 1992. It was painted in 1967. The original is an oil painting on board and measures 62cm high and 76cm wide in its frame. It is part of Wales’ national collection housed at National Museum Cardiff. Now I’m going to describe the work for you.

Richard Eurich trained at Bradford School of Arts and the Slade School in London.

As an Official War Artist with the Royal Navy from 1941 to 1945, Richard Eurich painted many seascapes and scenes of war. Throughout his life he also painted Pennine landscapes and occasionally worked in Wales.

This view of an empty hillside in Wales, rising to blot out much of the sky is deceptively simple, evoking a sense of place.

The hillside is observed from a distance and fills most of the frame. Its steep arching back rises from the bottom right corner of the painting to the top left. The wedge of sky begins as dull and overcast, swells and billows into soft white wisps, and then breaks into clear blue.

The summit of the hill soars above the clouds. Dabs and daubs of speckled grey rock melt down the hillside, following the contours of the land. Its vast body ripples with different shades of green, soft, smooth and velvety.

Further across the hillside, one of these contours dives dramatically and the steep slope continues on the other side of it. Pale brown rocks streak through patches of lighter green, merging into smooth lush grass.

Looking at this painting, we can imagine the feel of the grass and the fresh countryside air.

Two trees hold onto this green giant of a mountain. One of them clings to the very edge of the hill, three quarters of the way down the slope. Lower down, a ridgeway disappears around the edge of the hill. A wall meanders along part of this, very pale and faint. The second tree nestles on the edge of this ridgeway.

Viewed from afar, the trees are small and isolated, and there is a delicacy and fragility to them in the way they are painted. Their tiny frames cast speck like shadows on the hillside. Despite this, there is a strength and resilience about them. An admiration for them, as they cling to the steep hillside.

Although this is a still day, we can imagine the trees holding firm in the face of a blustering wind. Indeed, it feels as though everything flows in their direction, and they are still there, surviving against the odds. They are an essential part of the drama of this painting. The mystery and wonder of nature.

This is an audio description of the painting A Cottage in a Cornfield, by John Constable who lived between 1776 and 1837. It was painted in 1817. The original is an oil painting on canvas and measures 31cm high and 26cm wide. It is part of Wales’ national collection housed at National Museum Cardiff. Now I’m going to describe the work for you.

John Constable was born in East Bergholt, Suffolk in 1776. He was a Romantic landscape painter who believed that artists should paint views and subjects with deep personal connections - things that they knew and loved, things that had stirred their senses and emotions. He once said that ‘painting is but another word for feeling.’

Much of his work was inspired by childhood memories of his native Suffolk. A Cottage in the Cornfield shows a humble cottage in the country with what appears to be a little donkey and foal hiding in the shadows at the gate - a simple scene we can imagine he saw every day on his way to school as a boy.

And what a journey to school that must have been! Time must have stood still as he leant up against the top bar of the gate and gazed across the cornfield. And there, he felt the grain of the wood, the rust of the metal and the tickle of poppies sneaking through the gaps in the fence as they do in the painting. He soaked up the beauty of the corn as it swayed in the breeze and the creamy smell of the elderflower. ‘I should paint my own places best’, he later wrote to a friend. And nothing is taken for granted.

The green country lane leading to the gate is worn to the earth in places, tufts of grass of different shades making for possible trip hazards; those places we all knew so well! The lane is splashed in sunlight; the edges in shadow close to the fence either side of the gate. Dark green brambles cover, climb and dangle there, two tree stumps avoid their reach, one with a crooked back. Sunlight skims off the shortened stumps.

A donkey and her foal hide in the shadows, the gentle curve of the donkey’s white belly giving her away. Maybe they can smell the elderflower that cascades down towards them, a scattering of delicate white flowers. They’re spoiled for choice with a mix of flowers, specks of colour that burst with life. And soaring above them, a glorious tree, with a rich green canopy. The leaves, like delicate fingers, play against the sky. But the clouds chase on, flecks of grey, patchy and dramatic.

Beyond the gate and past the tree, the deep cornfield blows. The pale heads of the corn poke out and waft in the breeze, contrasting with the lush green shafts.

And nestled peacefully behind the cornfield is the cottage. It is side on to us, with only part of the front in view; a white timber door speckled with climbing plants. The soft brown earthy colours of the cottage draw it into the landscape. The timber framed windows are dark within and the sloping roof and simple peaked decoration add to the rustic charm of the place. A chimney stands tall and proud, breaking into a clearer patch of sky.

To the left of the cottage, bushy trees catch the wind and shimmer in the sun, which peeks through the clouds above them. And to the right of the cottage, fields and trees are less distinct; streaking into the background, a brown field of corn ripe in the sun. It was a place he knew so well.

Constable teaches us to find beauty in the everyday and comfort on our doorsteps. There is joy in the simplest of things.

This is an audio description of a painting called Threshing and Bailing, Monmouthshire, by the artist Evelyn Mary Dunbar who lived between 1906 and 1960. It was painted in January 1943, during the second world war. The original is an oil painting on canvas and measures 41cm high and 51cm wide. It is part of Wales’ national collection housed at National Museum Cardiff. I’m going to describe the work for you, but first here’s a little bit about the artist.

Evelyn Dunbar graduated from the Royal College of Art in 1932. Her first professional job was as a mural painter at a school in Kent. Like many other artists at the time she believed that art had an important role to play in public life.

When war broke out in 1939, Evelyn Dunbar was signed up by the Ministry of Information to document the war service of women on the home front, and in particular the Land Army. She was the only woman to be paid as a British War Artist. Her passion for public art combined with a love and understanding for countryside subjects, made her the perfect choice. And now to describe the painting.

A group of Land Girls are shown hard at work around an old sandstone barn on a farm in Usk, Monmouthshire. They are threshing and baling hay. With the barn doors flung wide open, a hive of activity is revealed inside. The top two thirds of the painting illustrates the job of threshing, where grain is separated from the straw. The bottom third of the painting shows the bailing activities in the courtyard area.

Built of local Welsh sandstone, the barn is majestic in an everyday sort of way. Individually crafted stones are set within the sandstone, which differ in size, shape and shade. They are composed of soft, gentle, earthy colours and stand out against the light background. The barn roof is made of Welsh slate, with patches of lichen dotted all over it. A russet red threshing machine fills the central passageway of the barn.

The Land Girls wear khaki overcoats and dungarees, dark blue jumpers and black boots. Those outside have their coats on perhaps to keep warm from the January chill. A wooden plank is leant up against the door to prop it open. A rake remains standing on the left side of the barn wall.

Grain and straw covers most of the courtyard, a mixture of soft yellows and browns made lighter in places by the pale early year sun which glances over the courtyard from right to left. The sun casts shadows behind the bales of straw and mountain of grain.

Outside of the barn, in the foreground, are two Land Girls, one in either corner. Behind them, in the middle part of the courtyard, a third leans over the russet red baling machine. She is painted slightly smaller than the other two and the conveyor of the machine recedes into the barn behind. The artist's use of perspective gives a sense of depth to the scene.

The bailing machine sends through perfectly cut straw bales in stacks of three. The straight lines of the conveyor bisect the courtyard. The bales present a tough challenge – they are large, and heavy - but the Land Girl in the front right part of the scene is more than able.

Leaning forward at an acute angle with her head bowed to the ground, she carries a stack of three on her back. Imagine the weight of it on her back, and the feel of the spiky shafts of straw as she steadies the bale with her hands. Her head is hidden from our view, and we can only see two arms supporting the bales, but it’s enough for us to get a feel for her strength and determination.

The Land Girl in the front left of the painting busily sweeps the courtyard, the sun shining on her back. With her collar turned up, she has some protection from the breeze. Her orange and white spotted scarf stands out as a fun accessory and perhaps says something about her character.

Inside the barn are five other Land Girls, exposed to all the noise and dust of the threshing machine. Mostly in shadow and with their backs to us, they are less distinct than the figures out front. But this does not take anything away from our sense of their industry and hard work.

They work either side of the threshing machine and also on a high level beam above it. One girl with her back to us rakes a small golden hill of wheat into the machine. Another one higher up and further through the barn, carries a sheaf of wheat, her friend watching on. They are close to the roof beams of the barn, silhouetted against a rectangular opening behind them. A ladder offers them a way down after they have finished their work.

The Land Girls are part of the land, their khaki clothes merging into the surroundings. It reminds us that they are part of the history of the place, just as we are part of the cycle of life and service that embraces us.

This is an audio description of one of the Waterlilies paintings, by the famous French Impressionist artist Claude Monet, who lived between 1840 and 1926. Monet painted many different waterlily paintings in his lifetime. This one was painted in 1905. The original is an oil painting on canvas and measures 82cm high and 100cm wide. It is one of three Waterlilies paintings at National Museum Cardiff. I’m going to describe the work for you, but first a little bit about the background to this work.

Monet moved to the small French village of Giverny in 1883, a quiet retreat forty miles from the busyness of Paris. In 1890 he bought a property there, and made it his home. A keen gardener, he developed a garden landscape at his new home, drawing inspiration from Japanese gardens and the harmony between humans and nature.

In 1893 he bought a large pond nearby, which he transformed into a water garden. This was much to the dislike of his neighbours and local farmers who believed the plants would poison the water supply and kill their cows!

Monet became obsessed with his water garden. He planted waterlilies, and had a Japanese bridge built over it. The lily ponds became the subject of more than two hundred and fifty oil paintings, occupying the last thirty years of Monet’s life.

In the painting there is no horizon or ground; the artist’s is looking directly down at the deep blue surface of the water where groups of lily pads are scattered about as pale green strokes, sprinkled with delicate flowers, dabs of pink, white and yellow. You may feel as if you’re being invited to hop, skip and jump from pad to pad as they float. Or that you’re entering in to a peaceful place – a space for reflection and thought.

The blue sky and green willows of the garden reflect beneath and around the lilies, as shimmering streaks and patches of colour.

For Monet, the surface of the water was just as important as the lilies themselves. He even instructed his gardeners to skim and dust the surface of the water and to keep a watchful eye on the lilies, holding them carefully at bay! This way, Monet could observe and paint the changing reflections of light and colour on the surface of the water; always changing, always transient, a peaceful meditation on life, light, and the passing of time.

Monet said of the water garden that it “evokes in you the idea of the infinite; you experience there, as in microcosm…the instability of the universe which transforms itself every moment before our eyes.”

Time…life…light, is impossible to pin down, yet Monet kept trying. His series of waterlilies remind us that we too are part of this rich, ever-changing tapestry.

This painting has a special link to Wales. It was bought by Gwendoline Davies in Paris in 1913. Gwendoline grew up in Llandinam, near Newtown, and together with her sister Margaret they amassed one of Britain’s greatest art collections of the 20th century, using money inherited from their grandfather, the famous Welsh industrialist David Davies of Llandinam. The Davies sisters gave 260 artworks to the National Museum of Wales in 1951 and 1963, including three Waterlily paintings by Monet. Their gift completely transformed the national art collection. What a legacy to leave to their home country!

This is an audio description of a painting called The Rising of the Skylark, by the artist Samuel Palmer who lived between 1805 and 1881. It was painted around 1839. The original is an oil painting on canvas and is quite small, measuring just 31cm high and 25cm wide. It is part of Wales’ national collection housed at National Museum Cardiff. Now I’m going to describe the work for you.

It’s early dawn. A shepherd has opened a gate, ready for a lamb to pass through into the broad landscape beyond… the distant hills and the streaks of a marbled sky. A new horizon and a warm glow. Warm. Soft. Gentle and mellow.

Samuel Palmer moved to the Kent village of Shoreham in 1826, a world away from the smog and grime of the industrial revolution and the dark days of the Napoleonic Wars. Inspired by another poet and painter, William Blake, Samuel Palmer absorbed himself in the rural past and his landscape paintings celebrate rural fruitfulness and pastoral simplicity.

On the right side of the painting is a thatched cottage, but you may not notice it at first. Partly camouflaged behind some trees, it is as much a part of the natural landscape as anything else. Only a small part of the pale, delicate thatch and brickwork peeks through. Fleecy foliage of soft and muted greens and browns make a downy shawl for the cottage, dressing the eaves and cascading around the shadowy window and door.

And outside the cottage beyond the shadows, a new dawn is breaking.

A pair of trees, tall and slender, rise close to the cottage and nuzzle the sky. They stand side by side, like two close friends brushing into each other, one of the pair leaning gently back, held in the breeze. Delicate branches reach out laced with dainty leaves. Lower down, vines wrap around the thin trunks, playfully trying to escape.

The trees tower over the shepherd, lost in thought gazing skywards with his hand resting on the opened gate. He wears a long dark blue gown, rustic brown coat and red scarf. There is a charming simplicity to him as he gazes up at the sky in awe. The gate glints with sunlight, as does the fence on the other side of the opening. And like the cottage, it is dressed in greenery. Specks of sunlight dance over the bushes.

Ready to pass through the gate, a lamb looks towards the distant warm glow of dawn breaking. A chink of sunlight skimming the far-off hills is enough to cast subtle shadows behind the gate and fence. The lamb is left with an inviting pathway to follow.

Through the gate, a path speckled with yellow flowers leads towards mounds of heathland that glimmer in the early morning light. A sunlit hillside slopes behind the fence while further off, other hills rise, becoming more hazy.

One of these reaches a tangled blurry plateau and high above this in the mottled sky, a tiny skylark hovers, so small you might almost miss it. And peering through a gap in the clouds, a tiny moon squints. Daylight is coming and with it a new beginning.

This painting was inspired by a few lines from the poem ‘L’Allegro’ by John Milton, published in 1645.

‘To hear the lark begin his flight

And singing, startle the dull night

From his watch tower in the skies

Till the dappled dawn doth rise.’

The skylark, although only a speck hovering against the dappled clouds, has the undivided attention of the shepherd outside his thatched cottage. For it is more than a speck; the skylark, like the rest of this idyllic rural scene, is full of mystery and wonder. We can imagine the sound of this tuneful bird filling the dawn landscape, heralding a new beginning.

This is an audio description of a painting called Nature Morte, by the artist Eric Rowan, who was born in 1931. It was painted in 1974. The original is an oil painting on canvas and measures 150cm high and 180cm wide. It is part of Wales’ national collection housed at National Museum Cardiff. Now I’m going to describe the work for you.

The title of the painting, Nature Morte, is a French term meaning ‘Still Life.’ However, this painting isn’t what we would traditionally think of as a still life, with objects formally arranged in front of the viewer. Instead, it’s a semi abstract painting made up of a series of interlocking rectangles and squares in different shades of blue, with hints of a landscape in the background.

The painting seems to take us gently by the hand and draw us in…in and away to a place far off, a place uncomplicated and peaceful. A palette of different shades of calming blues and greens, with a hint of orange, helps to create this feeling of serenity.

Eric Rowan is an artist associated with Welsh Modernism. Modernist artists wanted a break with the past and looked for new ways to express themselves. It was not enough to just mimic everyday surroundings. By experimenting with shapes, colours and lines in this painting, Eric Rowan has created a powerful abstract image which transcends the everyday world around us.

A horizontal line, one third of the way up, spans the width of the painting. Rolling hills, stylised rather than real, drift along it, one wavy line behind the other, faint orange and green. Above these hills is a dark blue rectangular block. And framing this to meet the edges of the canvas, is a lighter shade of blue.

The stylised hills begin as a blur on the edges. As they make their way across, the hills find their focus, becoming more distinct in the middle without any distraction. A delicate red ribbon rainbow arcs over these hills into the distance. A full moon, a small pale disc, watches on in the dark blue rectangular block.

The artist’s careful use of lines and shapes guides us into the painting, inviting us to imaginatively experience the journey for ourselves. A double trackway emerges at the bottom. Its angled approach is faint to begin with, but as it straightens up the blue becomes more sure of itself and we venture along, calm and reassured.

The trackway reaches the foot of the hills in the centre of the painting. And then our attention is carefully drawn towards the small rainbow reaching over the hills. It’s as if the artist is inviting us to journey on, in our imagination, over the rainbow, over the rolling hills, and into the distant blue.

This is an audio description of a painting called Snowdon from Llanfrothen, by the artist Stanley Spencer who lived between 1891 and 1959. It was painted in 1938. The original is an oil painting on canvas and measures 51cm high and 76cm wide. It is part of Wales’ national collection housed at National Museum Cardiff. Now I’m going to describe the work for you. But first, a bit about the artist.

Stanley Spencer was born in the small village of Cookham beside the River Thames, in England. Cookham meant a great deal to the artist and he referred to it as ‘a village in heaven.’ And during his time at the Slade Art School in London, he even received the nickname ‘Cookham’ because of his love for the place.

In 1917, Spencer enlisted in the Great War and went to the front line. On his return, he became an official war artist and created one of the greatest of all war memorials, drawing on his experiences of life in the army.

As his career moved on, financial necessity meant that he produced more landscape paintings, as these sold well. Although very different in their subject matter to his war scenes, his attention to detail and striking way of representing real life, remained the same.

The painting we are considering today was painted at Llanfrothen, near Harlech, in 1938. At the time, Spencer was staying with his first wife Hilda, near Snowdon.

The painting shows the contrasting colours and textures that make up the north Wales landscape. The fields in the foreground are little idylls of their own; we can imagine the feel of the soft deep grass rippling in the breeze and the smell of the verdant bracken.

The fields are enclosed by dry stone walls, each minute stone carefully laid down in paint by the artist, just as they were laid down stone-by-stone in the fresh air of Snowdonia when the walls were first built. In the corner of one of the fields, the wall curves to make a small shelter. Another is worn and in need of repair. Observation is coupled with a feel for the landscape.

An abundance of ferns and bracken adorn the walls closest to us, the leafy blades painted in greens and burnt browns. Subtle shadows beneath the plants bring depth, helping them to gently reach out towards us.

And the fields roll downhill into a dip in the land, where just the tip of a roof and chimney of a house emerges, nestled snugly among some trees.

Beyond these trees, a narrow straight road cuts between a patchwork of fields and tree-lined verges, to reach the foot of a range of hills. This road cuts diagonally across the fields, from right to left, inviting us on a journey across the landscape.

In the background, a valley cuts between the hills and meanders into the distance towards far off mountains brushing the clouds. Here the terrain rises steeply. Patches of earthy greens and browns deck the hills. Pale grey rock faces jut out and steep rock slopes are painted in streaks of maroon and grey.

And snuggled in the top right corner, partially hidden by clouds, is Snowdon in its rugged majesty. Snowdon is perhaps the most famous view in Wales, but in this painting it is compressed into a corner. Instead the artist invites us to pay attention to the fields, walls and trees leading in the foreground. We are invited to take in the colour, beauty and breadth of this landscape, and in looking at the image perhaps we are reminded too that the journey is just as important as the destination.