Some fun for the weekend. Play the classic 1950s get-together game Am I a Monument? – the “delightful thawing game”. Guess the monument that’s been pinned to your back by asking the other players yes/no questions such as “Am I a bridge?”

A bargain at only one shilling-and-tuppence three-farthing (including tax). Endless fun to be had by all!

In October 2013, I received an unexpected email. A photo I had taken of the Albert Memorial and submitted to Wiki Loves Monuments UK had placed in the Top Ten as a Highly Commended photo.

I was shocked. Never in a million years had I expected one of the four photos I had submitted to the competition to place in the Top Ten.

The reason why – I was an amateur photographer, who had only received their first DSLR about six months earlier. I was still learning how to use certain components of the camera and my editing skills were shaky at best.

The photo that had placed, had been taken on an early June evening as my daughter and I wandered around Kensington Gardens, ahead of a performance we were to be attending at the Royal Albert Hall. I had noticed the tourists walking around the monument and taking photos, but I didn’t want to take the typical tourist shot, I wanted a different perspective of it, I wanted it to be different.

I couldn’t tell you now, what led me to that spot or even why. All I know was I saw an opportunity at that point for a different vantage point, a different perspective. With the branches and leaves of the tree framing the memorial and the low evening sun behind it, I took my chance and got the shot.

In my eyes, the photo wasn’t anything special. It had been shot on Auto and in JPEG as at the time I was too new and too scared to try to use manual or any other file type. Even so, I was pleased with the photo I had captured.

However, it seemed the judges of the UK National competition of Wiki Loves Monuments did think it was something special.

Knowing this, it gave me a boost in my confidence in my skills and potential as a photographer. It also gave me something to focus on, an interest in which to take photos – architecture.

Since 2013, I have continued to pursue my interest in photography, slowly improving my skills. I have also continued to partake in the competition, which led to one of my photos placing second internationally in 2014. I have had many of my photos which I have submitted also used across Wikipedia, despite them not placing in the competitions.

My message to those amateur photographers who are too nervous to compete against professionals, please don’t be. I am proof that someone with limited knowledge of photography can create a special shot and place within a competition. However, even if your photos do not place, you are helping to build a collection of images of important historic buildings and an amazing resource for future generations.

This is even more important than ever with wars and natural disasters threatening and destroying historic architecture across the world. A prime example of this is the partial destruction of the Old City of Aleppo because of the Syrian Civil War. Thankfully, Wikipedia has numerous photos of the beautiful city from before its destruction. Therefore, if you can capture a photo of a Listed Building, then please do. You never know how important that one photo will be.

They say every picture tells a story… well, this is mine. It’s about the relationship between myth and landscape and my connection with a 5,000 year-old cromlech (or dolmen) in Britain that goes by two names; Bwrdd Arthur (‘Arthur’s Table’) and Gwâl y Filiast (‘Lair of the Greyhound Bitch’).

I first visited the cromlech one fine spring day – April 28^th 2010, to be precise – shortly after I’d decided to write a book about the Muse. It sits on a hillside above the river Tâf, in a liminal place between two counties in Wales – Carmarthenshire and Pembrokeshire – called Cilymaenllwyd, which means ‘retreat of the ancient stone’ (cil: ‘retreat’, maen: ‘stone’, llwyd: ‘ancient’). I was immediately enchanted by the place. Little did I know then that, three years later, I would come to live nearby and spend many, many hours here with my dogs, come rain (and snow) or shine, tuning-in and musing upon its original function and appearance.

There’s an old Welsh legend, The Tale of Taliesin, that tells of Ceridwen’s cauldron and her strange brew called Awen (Welsh for ‘Muse’). The story goes that three magical drops touched Gwion’s lips and he became wise (the name Taliesin means ‘shining intellect’). I was reading The Mythology and Rites of the British Druids (1809) by Edward Davies and nearly fell off my chair when he said that;

“…in the tale of Taliesin’s initiation, the table of Arthur is connected with the mysteries of Ceridwen, and in Llan Beudy [Llanboidy] parish, in Carmarthenshire, we find a monument which joins the name of Arthur with another name, which we can only refer to that goddess. It is called Bwrdd Arthur, Arthur’s table, and Gwal y Vilast, the couch of the Greyhound bitch.”

In the story, which took place during the days of King Arthur, Gwion turns into a hare and Ceridwen transforms herself into a greyhound bitch and chases him down to the river. Could this cromlech perhaps be the physical locale mentioned in the story? I don’t believe this was a burial chamber or passage tomb – not sepulchral, but chthonic. In the Mysteries of Ancient Greece, initiation took place underground in dark spaces overseen by the Muses. In a sense, Ceridwen was a British Muse; a teacher of these ancient Mysteries in Britain. The cromlech was originally covered by an earthen mound where one could, literally, ‘go within’ and receive insight and inspiration, just as monks retreated to their ‘cells’ and hermitages.

I continued reading: “… the period which was employed in preparing the mystical cauldron, the anniversary of its commencement would fall, of course, upon the twenty-ninth of April.” I looked at the date… it was the 29^th April, almost three years to the day of my first visit (make of that what you will).

To me, this is more than just a photograph that I took one cold, winter morning as the sun rose through the mist – it’s about the genius loci of a place; a reminder that the Muse lives on… by a cromlech in a wooded valley somewhere in wild West Wales.

Bydded i’r hen iaith barhau.

~ Karen Sawyer.

To find out more about Karen’s forthcoming book about the Muse, you can connect with her on Twitter @impishkaren or email muse@arcconvention.org