War memorials occupy a rather anomalous place in the visual fabric of our villages, towns and cities. They were made to be visible, and to convey powerful messages about war, specifically about loss and grief, to the communities who commissioned them. Yet they can very easily fade into the background. Passers-by can rush about their daily business not noticing the memorial in the town centre or the village green. Some memorials are literally out of sight except for those who are part of specific communities – the churches, chapels, schools or workplaces where the institutions decided, after 1918 or 1945, to create a memorial to those who fell in the war (or, quite often, to all those who served). 

However, as the decades have gone by, many memorials have been lost: churches and chapels have lost their congregations; schools have relocated to new buildings; workplaces have closed down. Given the passage of time since the World Wars, perhaps the notion of commemorating war does not have the same resonance for today’s youngsters as it once did. Yet the events of the past two or three years have shown how, unfortunately, war is not consigned to the past, and peace must not be taken for granted.

This project wanted to connect groups of today’s youngsters who lived in areas which had been rich in war memorials to the idea of remembrance, and to encourage them to take inspiration from their own local memorials in order to create their own, contemporary, artworks. Six schools were chosen to be part of this project, all in south east Wales and all of them established decades after 1945, and therefore without war memorials of their own. 

Each school had an introductory talk about war memorials and then, accompanied by the muralist Siôn Tomos Owen, we went on a day-trip around their local area looking at numerous examples of memorials, large and small. We noted the variety of messages about war that could be found on these memorials: some were militaristic; some carried religious imagery; some were abstract; some were plain and simple, a sad list of names. Indeed, for each group of youngsters, it was the sheer quantity of the names of local men (and occasionally women) that struck home. Many found their own names on the memorials (particularly if they were called Jones, Williams or Evans!), and one spotted the unusual surname of her grandfather borne by two First World War casualties, and thus found a direct family connection with the war.   

Back at school after a few days to gather their thoughts, the pupils then came up with their own ideas for how to express their own feelings about war and conflict and, with Siôn’s assistance, created their designs using paint and plywood.

The first one to be completed, by Ysgol Glantaf, Cardiff, set the bar high (pictured above). It is a tree, which has been damaged and almost torn apart by some trauma, and yet the hands from each side reaching out in a handshake are striving to keep the two halves together. The ‘peace symbol’ (which is what all the youngsters called it, even though older generations might instinctively think of CND) is also there, prominent, and at the bottom is the word ‘Heddwch’ – ‘Peace’ – giving the tree strong roots which we hope will help to make it survive and prosper. 

The other five designs also incorporated strong messages about peace and hope. There was a hand which was also a dove (Ysgol Llangynwyd); a dove hovering over a civilian and soldier arm-in-arm (Ysgol Cwm Rhondda) and a bridge passing over a nurse-like angel (Ysgol Garth Olwg).

Pupils from Ysgol Rhydywaun took their inspiration from the central figure from Merthyr Tydfil’s civic memorial, which is actually one of the Greek fates but which the locals have always taken to be their local saint, after whom the town is named. In the youngsters’ design, the figure is Saint Tydfil, and the town’s motto has been edited to read ‘Nid Cadarn ond Caru’ (‘There is no Strength but Love’).

Much of my research into war memorials has focussed upon what they meant to the local communities at the time, and thus I know about how commemorative practices have changed with time, so that words and ideas used in some older memorials would not be thought appropriate today. Thus I was pleased to see how on their design, pupils from Ysgol Gwynllyw changed the rather militaristic motto of the Monmouthshire Regiment, ‘Gwell Angau na Gwarth’ (‘Better Death than Dishonour’) to ‘Gwell Gobaith a Chariad na Chasineb a Dagrau’ (‘Better Hope and Love than Hatred and Tears’). 

One of the most satisfying aspects with this project was how the youngsters really engaged with the idea that these memorials (which they had either never seen before or not noticed) were interesting and valuable, and they should care about commemorating war and conflict. And perhaps the most pleasing thing of all was that when they had the chance, instead of creating war memorials, they created peace memorials.

Each was a powerful individual piece of art, but when they were brought together, the effect was magnified. The six artworks, along with some explanatory panels, were put on display in the Pierhead Building in Cardiff Bay, overlooking the Senedd, the home of Welsh democracy. Over the two months in the summer of 2023, feedback was gathered from dozens of visitors, almost all of whom gave positive responses when asked of their impressions. My favourite piece of feedback comes without words:

After the exhibition was also shown at the Rhondda Heritage Park, the individual artworks were returned to their schools, where they have been put up in prominent places. Thus for years to come, this project will have a legacy in these six schools, where the pupils and teachers will see these artworks full of messages of peace and hope. It should inspire them not just to have an appreciation of why previous wars and conflicts should be remembered, but also to think hard when future problems arise and they have difficult choices to make. 

• Find out more about the IWM 14-18 NOW Legacy Fund here