For the first time, an exhibition capturing the people of St Davids is on display in Cardiff. What does it mean to preserve a community through portraits, and can a project like this ever be complete?
When artist Grahame Hurd-Wood’s fiancée Debbie Best fell ill, they spoke about his portraits and the people he had painted. He had been painting the people of St Davids, Britain’s smallest city, but did not know where the project would lead. As her condition worsened, she urged him to continue. Before she passed away, she made him swear, “Don’t stop. No matter what happens, keep going.”
At the time, Hurd-Wood had already been painting portraits of St Davids residents for several years. What began as a simple way to document the people around him grew into City of Portraits, a project capturing the town’s changing community before it moved on.
“It kept me going. It was about having that contact with people,” Hurd-Wood says. “The paintings were no longer just about preservation. They became a way to hold onto the connections I had.”
More than a decade later, City of Portraits has grown into a staggering collection of over 1000 faces of the residents, visitors, old friends, and strangers, who sat for him. Hurd-Wood never set out to create an archive, but his project has become exactly that, a living portrait of Britain’s smallest city.
Although the project is centered around St Davids, it is not just about one place. “You could use St Davids as a name, but it’s about people,” he says. “I listen to their stories. It could be anywhere.”
Hurd-Wood originally had no plans to show the project in Cardiff. He hoped to display it in St Davids, but finding a venue was difficult. Eventually, Eluned Morgan, a Welsh government minister, helped him arrange a space at the Pierhead Gallery, bringing the project to a wider audience.
Stepping into the exhibition, visitors are met with walls filled with face, each one displayed at a distance to other, yet together forming something larger. The uniform size of the canvases gives the collection a sense of cohesion, but within each frame, an individual story awaits to be discovered.
People respond to the exhibition in different ways. Some come looking for familiar faces, seeking out friends, family members, or even their own portraits. Others stumble upon it by chance and find themselves unexpectedly moved.
One visitor, Griet Vancoetsem, from Antwerp, Belgium, does not plan to visit the exhibition. “We were just sightseeing in Cardiff and saw this,” she says. “It feels like stepping into a community, even though I don’t know these people.”
“All these people, they are so clear as individuals, and every single portrait is very strong on its own, but together, it brings a lot of unity. The collection connects all these people, and it’s all about the community,” Vancoetsem says.
Among the many faces, one portrait stands out to Yuxi Huang from China: a woman gazing downward, lost in thought. “It looks like she’s reflecting on something important,” Huang says. “It’s not just about what someone looks like, it’s about how they feel.”
Some visitors come to the exhibition after reading about it. Rose Martinez, a former art and history teacher from London, learned about City of Portraits in The Guardian and decided to visit while in Cardiff.
“I have the afternoon to myself before meeting a friend, so I think this is a lovely opportunity,” she says. “It sounds like such a fascinating project, documenting everyone around you in a new place.”
She is struck by the uniform size of the portraits. “It’s a very obvious project, but I don’t think it has been done before,” Martinez says. “The way they are displayed feels minimalist, like Donald Judd’s work.” When asked if she would take part in a similar project, she smiles. “I’d love to. But actually, I’d love to be the artist.”
For Hurd-Wood, these reactions has become not just a collection of faces, but a reflection of a community’s identity. He has spent more than a decade painting the people of St Davids, yet each portrait remains deeply personal. Some are completed in less than an hour, others take far longer.
“The longest portrait took 11 hours, while the shortest was finished in 40 minutes,” he says. “It depends on the emphasis of the piece and how I’m feeling at the time. Some days everything flows easily, while other days require more effort. It’s the same with anything we do in life.”
There is no system for choosing his sitters. Some volunteer, others are invited. “If I see people in the street and I haven’t painted them, I just say, ‘Come on, come and sit for me,’ and they do,” he says. “The more people come in, the more others want to take part.”
The experience of painting so many people has changed him. “Maybe it’s brought me out of myself a bit,” he says. “In a way, it has made me feel more at ease, happier with myself.”
Unlike his earlier landscape work, City of Portraits is built around direct engagement with people. “This project isn’t solitary because I’m working with people,” he says. “It has given me a deeper understanding of that connection.”
Through this process, he has also gained a quiet sense of confidence. “It has helped me understand who I am and develop a quiet and gentle confidence without any excessive ego,” he says.
Even after more than 1000 portraits, he does not see an end to the project. New faces appear, others leave, and some return. The town is always changing, but the portraits remain.
“I don’t assume there will be a point of completion, because I want to keep going. When I get back home, I’ll prepare a few more canvases. I just keep doing this. I absolutely love it.”