Last night the audience for Blue Sky, a political thriller by Clare Bayley in Theatre 2 at the Sherman was very small but very appreciative. The play produced by Pentabus Theatre, a Shropshire based community theatre company was first performed at Hampstead Theatre Downstairs in London last month. 'Blue Sky' investigates what might be happenening in the English countryside at the dead of night. Isolated airports,secret landings...' it asks the questions, How much do we really know about what our governments are involved in? And do we want to know-or is it easier to turn a blind eye?'
The play follows the story being researched by an investigative journalist who uses her old friend and others to help her gain information for her scoop which involves the alleged kidnapping of an innocent British man in Pakistan by the CIA, who is taken to Jordan, interrogated by American and a British agent, and possibly tortured. We discover the journalist's own demons and morals that motivate her but leave her emotionally detached. Woven into her story is that of her friend,an old flame, and now a staid plane spotter with a history of radical politics and his relationship with his daughter, studying media at university, who is on a mission to learn more about her dead mother from El Salvador.
The play is gripping, well performed, totally convincing, except for the couple getting it on towards the end-I saw no chemistry or tension building there. The simple set works well and the sound track adds to the action.
Please go and support Pentabus. They have been so disapppointed with the small aaudiences.Tonight is the last night. It starts at 8pm. See www.shermancymru.co.uk 029 2064 6900.
Saturday 17 November 2012
Monday 12 November 2012
ON BECOMING A FISH
On Saturday we attended the successful launch of Emily Hinchelwood's new book of poems, entitled 'On Becoming a Fish' in the theatre of Pontardawe Arts Centre. The book, published by Seren, a leading Welsh publisher, was inspired by a series of walks around the 186 mile Pembrokeshire coastal path in West Wales over a period of seven years. The result is a lively collection of witty, amusing and moving moments that cover history, myth, legend, the environment, climate change, personal experiences of walking, skinny dipping and discovering a Las Vegas of glow worms. The title poem won the Envoi International Open Poetry Competition.
Emily read her poems to an audience of over 100 enthusiastic supporters, accompanied by Delyth Jenkins on the harp and with a back drop of Emily's own animations and photographs.
It was a wonderful evening. Emily is a modest person of many talents and strengths, well liked and respected by everyone who knows her, always encouraging others to be creative. Emily is also a playwright. She has a play in the finals of Pontardawes' scriptslam to be held on November 28th 2012. She is an environmental activist working with her partner,Dan McCallum in a community energy project, Awel Aman Tawe, and is committed to raising awareness about climate change. She has recently walked the length of the Heart of Wales railway line gathering people's opinions on the subject.
I wholeheartedly recommend her poetry collection to you. To order copies of 'On Becoming a Fish', priced at £8.99, see www.serenbooks.com
Emily read her poems to an audience of over 100 enthusiastic supporters, accompanied by Delyth Jenkins on the harp and with a back drop of Emily's own animations and photographs.
It was a wonderful evening. Emily is a modest person of many talents and strengths, well liked and respected by everyone who knows her, always encouraging others to be creative. Emily is also a playwright. She has a play in the finals of Pontardawes' scriptslam to be held on November 28th 2012. She is an environmental activist working with her partner,Dan McCallum in a community energy project, Awel Aman Tawe, and is committed to raising awareness about climate change. She has recently walked the length of the Heart of Wales railway line gathering people's opinions on the subject.
I wholeheartedly recommend her poetry collection to you. To order copies of 'On Becoming a Fish', priced at £8.99, see www.serenbooks.com
MEDEA
Last week The Sherman welcomed Headlong Theatre to its main stage to perform a new version of Euripides' Medea, written by Mike Bartlett. Set on a new build estate in middle England, Medea is having a nervous breakdown. It is the eve of her ex's wedding to the 19 year old daughter of her landlord. Her neighbour is helping out-taking her son to school and picking him up. A colleague from work calls. The young boy,Tom, sits or lies on his bed, disturbingly silent throughout, playing his computer games while drama unfold around him. A workman hangs around menacingly,saying almost nothing. Medea is behind with the rent and has been given notice to quit. She belittles all help. She rants about her ex,Jason, to whoever will listen, and to him, accusing him of replacing her with a newer model and tighter sex, but he replies that Kate, his fiance, is kinder, more caring, just nicer than Medea. We witness Medea descend into psychological turmoil. We see her need to feel something, to overcome her mental numbness as she plunges her hand into boiling vegetable water, and later seduces Jason to spend his last night as a single man with her. Tension mounts and she secretly plots her revenge on him and Kate at their wedding party, and her own getaway.
Until this point I was totally enthralled by her, but her leap from woman scorned to child murderer didn't work for me. She doesn't want Jason to have Tom. It seems that she doesn't want Tom or does she? Does she love Tom? I felt affection but not maternal love. She's certainly incapable of looking after him. I needed to see and feel more internal conflict before she commits that ultimate act. She uses a kitchen knife and her Dad's axe. She tell us it's the only thing of his she has left, that he travelled away alot and when he came home he liked to chop animals into bits-for fun. She tells us until that morning she believed in God but now she knows there is nothing. At the end she gives God a last chance. The light breaks through the cloud and we hear police sirens.
It's a powerful adaptation, well performed, and makes me want to go back and read the original. In this version is the writer suggesting that Medea's a witch with supernatural powers personifying evil? Was that what Euripides thought? If so, that takes away some of the play's impact for me. Today, sadly, there have been several cases reported in the press of distraught fathers who can't stand the thought of their ex -wives with new partners, and who are deeply grieving for the loss of their family, seek revenge, kill their children and then commit suicide. This seems to be Medea's motivation. Her life time punishment may be worse.
It did also make me wonder about the vulnerability of Tom, the actor, the little boy. Seeing him later sitting on his dad's lap in the foyer, he looked pale. I hope he's not traumatised.
Until this point I was totally enthralled by her, but her leap from woman scorned to child murderer didn't work for me. She doesn't want Jason to have Tom. It seems that she doesn't want Tom or does she? Does she love Tom? I felt affection but not maternal love. She's certainly incapable of looking after him. I needed to see and feel more internal conflict before she commits that ultimate act. She uses a kitchen knife and her Dad's axe. She tell us it's the only thing of his she has left, that he travelled away alot and when he came home he liked to chop animals into bits-for fun. She tells us until that morning she believed in God but now she knows there is nothing. At the end she gives God a last chance. The light breaks through the cloud and we hear police sirens.
It's a powerful adaptation, well performed, and makes me want to go back and read the original. In this version is the writer suggesting that Medea's a witch with supernatural powers personifying evil? Was that what Euripides thought? If so, that takes away some of the play's impact for me. Today, sadly, there have been several cases reported in the press of distraught fathers who can't stand the thought of their ex -wives with new partners, and who are deeply grieving for the loss of their family, seek revenge, kill their children and then commit suicide. This seems to be Medea's motivation. Her life time punishment may be worse.
It did also make me wonder about the vulnerability of Tom, the actor, the little boy. Seeing him later sitting on his dad's lap in the foyer, he looked pale. I hope he's not traumatised.
Friday 9 November 2012
INCUBATOR
'Incubator' is a Wales Millennium Centre initiative that encourages new theatre work with grants and opportunities to show work in progress to their audiences and get feedback. Last night two pieces of work were shared: 'The Gretel Files,' a reimagining of the classic Brothers Grimm tale,Hansel and Gretel', written by Mali Tudno Jones, and Mercury Theatre Wales' devised piece, written by Bethan Morgan and Lynn Hunter, which explores the rise of Welsh club culture in the 1990s, entitled 'Spangled'.
Yesterday morning I received a text from M17. It said,
' For the next 24hours you are an elite member of mi7. Be vigilant,be procative. Briefing at 7pm. In the meantime www.mi7files.wordpress.com.' On the website I was told that MI7 is the British branch of the Ministry of Intelligence that protects characters and locators of myths and legends. In this show, 'The Gretel Files', 'the group have been working to combine traditional storytelling methods and new media platforms in order to deliver an exciting interactive storytelling experience.' The show is intended for children and their families. We were designated special agents and were invited to follow the characters Gretel, the Witch, Narcissus and Echo around the WMC, looking for clues, asked to take photographs, receiving classified information via twitter and text on our mobile phones, moving the story on to find the recipe for the best gingerbread in the world.. It was the only show I've been to where you are invited to keep your mobile phone turned on and the volume up loud. I can imagine children would love to be special agents, getting coded messages, running riot in a building with secret passages, setting out to solve a mystery. But by the end of the small piece shared I'd forgotten what the mystery was but it was fun.
'Spangled' invited us into a 1990s club. We had our hand stamped, a neon bracelet snapped on our wrist and our coats taken. We walked into a smoky room with flashing lights, pulsating garage music and a young woman dancing on a table. The action moved round the club and we were directed/hoarded towards the action as the characters developed and interacted: The girl who wanted to be a DJ, the boy who sold drugs, the boy who didn't want to take drugs, the DJ, the boy who was bullied at school, the stepfather with two lovers wanting to protect his anorexic step daughter. It all built to an ecstatic crescendo as actors and clubbers danced together; or clubbers looked embarressed as wild actors invaded their space.
The problem was with so many 'clubbers' you couldn't always hear the conversations or see the action, and so missed some of the story unfolding fast and furious. I can see the show would appeal to a teenage audience. I came out with more insight into why it would have been so exciting to have taken ecstacy at a rave. If I hadn't already done zumba and pilates that day I might have joined in.
For further info about 'Incubator' email simon.coates@wmc.org.uk.
Yesterday morning I received a text from M17. It said,
' For the next 24hours you are an elite member of mi7. Be vigilant,be procative. Briefing at 7pm. In the meantime www.mi7files.wordpress.com.' On the website I was told that MI7 is the British branch of the Ministry of Intelligence that protects characters and locators of myths and legends. In this show, 'The Gretel Files', 'the group have been working to combine traditional storytelling methods and new media platforms in order to deliver an exciting interactive storytelling experience.' The show is intended for children and their families. We were designated special agents and were invited to follow the characters Gretel, the Witch, Narcissus and Echo around the WMC, looking for clues, asked to take photographs, receiving classified information via twitter and text on our mobile phones, moving the story on to find the recipe for the best gingerbread in the world.. It was the only show I've been to where you are invited to keep your mobile phone turned on and the volume up loud. I can imagine children would love to be special agents, getting coded messages, running riot in a building with secret passages, setting out to solve a mystery. But by the end of the small piece shared I'd forgotten what the mystery was but it was fun.
'Spangled' invited us into a 1990s club. We had our hand stamped, a neon bracelet snapped on our wrist and our coats taken. We walked into a smoky room with flashing lights, pulsating garage music and a young woman dancing on a table. The action moved round the club and we were directed/hoarded towards the action as the characters developed and interacted: The girl who wanted to be a DJ, the boy who sold drugs, the boy who didn't want to take drugs, the DJ, the boy who was bullied at school, the stepfather with two lovers wanting to protect his anorexic step daughter. It all built to an ecstatic crescendo as actors and clubbers danced together; or clubbers looked embarressed as wild actors invaded their space.
The problem was with so many 'clubbers' you couldn't always hear the conversations or see the action, and so missed some of the story unfolding fast and furious. I can see the show would appeal to a teenage audience. I came out with more insight into why it would have been so exciting to have taken ecstacy at a rave. If I hadn't already done zumba and pilates that day I might have joined in.
For further info about 'Incubator' email simon.coates@wmc.org.uk.
BENN & BOND
This week we've been to see the new James Bond film,'Skyfall' and to Pontardawe to hear Tony Benn talk about his life in politics. James Bond and Tony Benn may seem light years from each other, but ... Both are deemed national treasures. Both stand up for what is right although their tactics may be different. There's always a villain in a Bond movie. Tony Benn has often been villified by the media for standing up for the under dog, for his beliefs about democracy and accountability. They both admire the uses of technology. Bond uses it to overcome evil. Benn has always been an advocate for technology that improves our lives. I'll come to who gets the girl later.
Daniel Craig is of course wonderful to behold as Bond-a Greek God-like figure, who lives on the edge and runs like Forest Gump. Tony left Government in 2001 to devote more time to politics. At 87 he may not hear very well but is still sharp, witty. His integirity shines through.
'Skyfall' has a PG/12 certificate which affects the usual steamy sex scenes-there aren't any. Q is a young geek- a computer wizard but without the gadgetry of the old Q. There's more background to Bond's attachment issues- he was orphaned at 9. 'Skyfall' heralds Bond for an acquisitve younger generation with its computer games and merchandise. Benn is anti-capitalist through and through.
In Bond's world it's easy to identify the hero from the villain, good from evil. In Benn's world it's much more complicated but his principles can be simply summarized, 'Say what you mean and mean what you say'. In his recent book,'Letters to my Grandchildren: Thoughts on the Future,' he sets out his ideas on how we can change our world: Give votes to 16yr olds, cut the defence budget, abandon nuclear power, invest in the housing market, save the NHS, reinstate trade union rights, create social enterprises on the cooperative model, re-nationalise the railways and nationalise the banks, make politicians accountable-power to the people!
Suppose you've guessed who gets the girl.
Daniel Craig is of course wonderful to behold as Bond-a Greek God-like figure, who lives on the edge and runs like Forest Gump. Tony left Government in 2001 to devote more time to politics. At 87 he may not hear very well but is still sharp, witty. His integirity shines through.
'Skyfall' has a PG/12 certificate which affects the usual steamy sex scenes-there aren't any. Q is a young geek- a computer wizard but without the gadgetry of the old Q. There's more background to Bond's attachment issues- he was orphaned at 9. 'Skyfall' heralds Bond for an acquisitve younger generation with its computer games and merchandise. Benn is anti-capitalist through and through.
In Bond's world it's easy to identify the hero from the villain, good from evil. In Benn's world it's much more complicated but his principles can be simply summarized, 'Say what you mean and mean what you say'. In his recent book,'Letters to my Grandchildren: Thoughts on the Future,' he sets out his ideas on how we can change our world: Give votes to 16yr olds, cut the defence budget, abandon nuclear power, invest in the housing market, save the NHS, reinstate trade union rights, create social enterprises on the cooperative model, re-nationalise the railways and nationalise the banks, make politicians accountable-power to the people!
Suppose you've guessed who gets the girl.
Saturday 3 November 2012
EDUARDO NIEBLA-' Brilliantissimo'
Last night we experienced something absolutely stupendous and unforgettable- Eduardo Niebla and his band in concert at the RWCMD. Eduardo spent his childhood growing up with gypsies on the outskirts of Girona,Spain. He says that his work 'reflects the gypsy spirit; one of being in touch with life,of being in touch with the emotions and living for each day. It is improtant to me to be immediate and passionate in everything I do.'
In a career spanning four decades,flamenco jazz guitar virtuoso and composer Eduardo Niebla has been acclaimed as one of the most potent forces in flamenco jazz fusion today. He combines gypsy roots with Indian,Arabic, classical and modern jazz to produce the most electrifying and poetic guitar playing. Brilliantissimo!
For further information about his current tour and to buy CDs see www.eduardoniebla.com
In a career spanning four decades,flamenco jazz guitar virtuoso and composer Eduardo Niebla has been acclaimed as one of the most potent forces in flamenco jazz fusion today. He combines gypsy roots with Indian,Arabic, classical and modern jazz to produce the most electrifying and poetic guitar playing. Brilliantissimo!
For further information about his current tour and to buy CDs see www.eduardoniebla.com
Thursday 1 November 2012
VINCENT IN BRIXTON
This drama by Nicholas Wright, performed by Cwmni Richard Burton at the Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama takes place in the kitchen of 87 Hackford Road,Brixton between 1873 and 1876. Vincent Van Gogh was 27 and had come to London to work as an art dealer for the international firm Goupil & Co. This part of his life is relatively unknown. There's speculation that he had feelings for his landlady, her daughter and for a family friend in Holland. The play focuses on his romantic and stormy relationship with Ursula, his older landlady, her daughter and another lodger, a painter and decorator who is also an artist.
I don't know if it was the direction or if there is archival evidence that the artist was a naeve simpleton, but in the first half this is the way he is portrayed. He is jealous of the other lodger and sets out to try his own hand at drawing. Ursula encourages the lodger,Sam to apply for a scholarship to art school. He gets a place but he also gets Eugenie pregnant and because of his low income cannot take up his place.
Vincent goes to Holland for a break and on his return tells Ursula how angry and frustrated he felt about his family's attitude to life. His father is a preacher. He shows her a pencil drawing of his father's church. She becomes apoplectic and throws a good porcelain plate at him for not expressing those feelings in his painting. She tells him about her black moods and he tells her that he sees himself in their reflection. Vincent's sister Anna arrives, sent by their parents to keep an eye on him. He's to be posted to Paris with the firm but after an argument he leaves without telling Ursula, not to return for two years. By this time he's been sacked and showing signs of being a bit of a religous zealot, he's passionate about God, life, nature, his painting. He thanks Ursula for giving him the gift of sorrow.
The play is peppered with references to Vincent's paintings-we see vases of Irises, talk of starry nights in Paris, cherry blossom painted on the skirting board of the kitchen. The actors gave strong emotional performances, more so in the second half, and Vincent seems more the character we've read and know about. He starts painting at 27 and by 37 takes his own life, leaving a legacy of work expressing his passionate emotions. How revolutionary that must have been at the time.
I don't know if it was the direction or if there is archival evidence that the artist was a naeve simpleton, but in the first half this is the way he is portrayed. He is jealous of the other lodger and sets out to try his own hand at drawing. Ursula encourages the lodger,Sam to apply for a scholarship to art school. He gets a place but he also gets Eugenie pregnant and because of his low income cannot take up his place.
Vincent goes to Holland for a break and on his return tells Ursula how angry and frustrated he felt about his family's attitude to life. His father is a preacher. He shows her a pencil drawing of his father's church. She becomes apoplectic and throws a good porcelain plate at him for not expressing those feelings in his painting. She tells him about her black moods and he tells her that he sees himself in their reflection. Vincent's sister Anna arrives, sent by their parents to keep an eye on him. He's to be posted to Paris with the firm but after an argument he leaves without telling Ursula, not to return for two years. By this time he's been sacked and showing signs of being a bit of a religous zealot, he's passionate about God, life, nature, his painting. He thanks Ursula for giving him the gift of sorrow.
The play is peppered with references to Vincent's paintings-we see vases of Irises, talk of starry nights in Paris, cherry blossom painted on the skirting board of the kitchen. The actors gave strong emotional performances, more so in the second half, and Vincent seems more the character we've read and know about. He starts painting at 27 and by 37 takes his own life, leaving a legacy of work expressing his passionate emotions. How revolutionary that must have been at the time.
Monday 22 October 2012
'R'YN NI YMA O HYD' ( WE ARE STILL HERE)
I guess I'm a Welsh activist by proxy of my husband, who stood up, was counted, went to court and was fined for his part in raising awareness of the Welsh language in the 1960s and 70s. He and his friends went around Wales underlining place names and road signs in English and writing 'Cymraeg?' It begged the question about the status and use of the Welsh language by the UK government, local authorities and organisations of the time.
Rhys never thought in his lifetime he'd such a radical transformation of what was a second class language to Welsh as a language of equal status with English, enshrined in legislation in an elected Assembly that manages many of Wales' affairs. When he started teaching it was in the first and only Welsh medium Comprehensive school in South Wales. There are now many primary and secondary schools in Cardiff alone, with projected growth as a bi-lingual education becomes more essential if you want to work in Welsh government. It's easy to forget the struggle that went on for decades to reach this place.
On Friday we attended a concert marking 50 years of protest by Welsh singer Dafydd Iwan. When I first came to Wales, I misheard Rhys talking about him and for many months I referred to him as 'Dafydd, the One!' But, there is only one Dafydd Iwan. More than any other Welsh singer of his generation he represents the struggle of a small oppressed nation. He stands tall with greats like Joan Baez, Bob Dylan and Woody Guthrie. Dafydd sang to a full auditorium in the Weston Studio of the Wales Millenium Centre, and in telling his story he made no compromise for any non-Welsh speakers in the audience. He's not a great guitar player and many of his songs have the same chords but the vigour and belief with which he sings is truly inspirational. His songs are irreverent, funny, witty, and will I'm sure stand the test of time.
Accompanying him was his own band, Heather Jones who continues to sing like a Nightingale and a group of three women calling themselves, 'Grug'. The audience sang with fervour, especially in what feels like a new national anthem - 'Ry'n ni yma o hyd.'
Rhys never thought in his lifetime he'd such a radical transformation of what was a second class language to Welsh as a language of equal status with English, enshrined in legislation in an elected Assembly that manages many of Wales' affairs. When he started teaching it was in the first and only Welsh medium Comprehensive school in South Wales. There are now many primary and secondary schools in Cardiff alone, with projected growth as a bi-lingual education becomes more essential if you want to work in Welsh government. It's easy to forget the struggle that went on for decades to reach this place.
On Friday we attended a concert marking 50 years of protest by Welsh singer Dafydd Iwan. When I first came to Wales, I misheard Rhys talking about him and for many months I referred to him as 'Dafydd, the One!' But, there is only one Dafydd Iwan. More than any other Welsh singer of his generation he represents the struggle of a small oppressed nation. He stands tall with greats like Joan Baez, Bob Dylan and Woody Guthrie. Dafydd sang to a full auditorium in the Weston Studio of the Wales Millenium Centre, and in telling his story he made no compromise for any non-Welsh speakers in the audience. He's not a great guitar player and many of his songs have the same chords but the vigour and belief with which he sings is truly inspirational. His songs are irreverent, funny, witty, and will I'm sure stand the test of time.
Accompanying him was his own band, Heather Jones who continues to sing like a Nightingale and a group of three women calling themselves, 'Grug'. The audience sang with fervour, especially in what feels like a new national anthem - 'Ry'n ni yma o hyd.'
Monday 8 October 2012
GREEN CANTERBURY TALES
On Friday October 5th 2012 members of the Glamorgan Seed Group met up to beach walk round Swansea Bay, telling and inventing stories, and later planning our route for next year's walk to Canterbury, part of a pilgrimage across Britain weaving new green tales for a sustainable world. Below is some background from the first meeting at Cae Mabon representing ten groups across Wales. Ours is a women's group of writers, poets, artists, and storytellers.
The pilgrimage is open to all.If you are interested in forming your own Seed Group look on www.greencanterburytales.org.uk for more information.
"Each group will be unique depending on the individuals involved and the nature of the journey given their geography. It may be possible to build on pre-existing projects, organisations and contacts. This could lead to potential sources of funding. Some Seed Groups will want to attract young people who can be mentored as storytellers and pilgrims. Such groups will probably need to be aligned to pre-existing groups and to tick boxes regarding health and safety etc. Other groups may simply consist of a handful of self-responsible adults. If groups become larger walkers may need to be asked to sign disclaimers.
•Initially the Seed Group will need to cultivate their repertoire of stories, agree on a starting date and an itinerary. They may organise a public performance in this first stage. We’d like each seed group to give a minimum of 6 days or 3 weekends over the 5 months for their journeys, not including the 2 or 3 days in Canterbury. This does not mean every individual does the full six days, just that the group as a whole does so. We expect many story pilgrims will spend longer on their journeys. Some may want to walk or cycle the whole way.
•The Seed Groups will begin their story-journeys in a place of sacred, historic, ecological or political significance. En route they'll exchange with each other and with people they meet stories, songs and poems on a broadly green or land-based theme. Later they may meet up and walk with neighbouring seed groups. So participants will fine tune stories; perform to audiences encountered or organised on the way; listen to and gather stories from other seed-groups or from people met en route; and tell the tales of their journeys.
•The third phase of the journeys will be the approach to Canterbury. One group will come from Southwark following the route of Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales. The final weekend in Canterbury will be a mixture of festival and conference (Confest) where we explore the importance of storytelling on green themes, tell the stories of the journeys, re-tell some of the original Canterbury Tales with contemporary twists, tell some of the old and new stories gathered en route, and enjoy poetry and song."
The pilgrimage is open to all.If you are interested in forming your own Seed Group look on www.greencanterburytales.org.uk for more information.
"Each group will be unique depending on the individuals involved and the nature of the journey given their geography. It may be possible to build on pre-existing projects, organisations and contacts. This could lead to potential sources of funding. Some Seed Groups will want to attract young people who can be mentored as storytellers and pilgrims. Such groups will probably need to be aligned to pre-existing groups and to tick boxes regarding health and safety etc. Other groups may simply consist of a handful of self-responsible adults. If groups become larger walkers may need to be asked to sign disclaimers.
•Initially the Seed Group will need to cultivate their repertoire of stories, agree on a starting date and an itinerary. They may organise a public performance in this first stage. We’d like each seed group to give a minimum of 6 days or 3 weekends over the 5 months for their journeys, not including the 2 or 3 days in Canterbury. This does not mean every individual does the full six days, just that the group as a whole does so. We expect many story pilgrims will spend longer on their journeys. Some may want to walk or cycle the whole way.
•The Seed Groups will begin their story-journeys in a place of sacred, historic, ecological or political significance. En route they'll exchange with each other and with people they meet stories, songs and poems on a broadly green or land-based theme. Later they may meet up and walk with neighbouring seed groups. So participants will fine tune stories; perform to audiences encountered or organised on the way; listen to and gather stories from other seed-groups or from people met en route; and tell the tales of their journeys.
•The third phase of the journeys will be the approach to Canterbury. One group will come from Southwark following the route of Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales. The final weekend in Canterbury will be a mixture of festival and conference (Confest) where we explore the importance of storytelling on green themes, tell the stories of the journeys, re-tell some of the original Canterbury Tales with contemporary twists, tell some of the old and new stories gathered en route, and enjoy poetry and song."
La bohème
It's only in the last year that Rhys and I have become interested in opera. I always saw it as an elitist hobby. In Wales, however, regardless of class or income, many people enjoy classical music and opera in particular.
We live next door to two musicians who work for the Welsh National Opera(WNO) and one of them is Rhys's guitar tutor. My counselling room backs onto their music room where they rehearse. Sometimes my clients are privy to our very own secret concert of cello and violin, giving a melodramatic backdrop to the action in my room. All the musicians' children are also musical. Before their eldest son went to uni, we would often hear his beautiful piano pieces and singing as he practised for the entrance exams. More latterly their younger son has taken up the trumpet. We now get the theme tunes from, 'Eastenders', 'The Last of the Summer Wine,' and 'Wallace and Gromet.' At least the latter usually breaks the tension and gets a laugh. When a client's just lost their husband or is suffering from post-traumatic stress there aren't a lot of laughs.
So having had all this for free for so long through our adjoining walls, we thought we'd like to see the performances that go with the music, and now we're rather hooked. What helps is the sur-titles in English and Welsh. It still seems to take an age to hear a performer singing that he enjoys a drink, fancies another man or is leaving his woman. At least now we know exactly what's happening. The other great thing for ignorant opera goers like us are the pre-show talks. On this occasion Dewi Savage, who I remembered as an actor in the days when I worked for Spectacle Theatre, did the honours in a self deprecating way that got laughs from the predominantly silver-surfer audience. In these half hour talks you get to know a bit of the background of the life and times of the composer, in this case Puccini, and a synopsis of who loves who, who falls out of love with who, who gets jealous and who dies of consumption- and there's still time for a G&T before the show starts.
This WNO production of La bohème is conducted by Simon Phillippo, directed by Annabel Arden with David Kempster as Marcello, Alex Vicens as Rodolpho, Giselle Allen as Mimi and Kate Valentine as Musetta. The opera is set in Paris's Latin Quarter at the end of the nineteenth century and as the title suggests is the story of a group of bohemian artists who fall in and out of love in a garret, get jealous, and sing over each other in magnificent voices as Mimi dies of consumption.
We didn't go away humming a well known ditty as we did for Don Giovanni and The Marriage of Figaro. And we weren't quite convinced that the bohemians were in their early twenties-more like their forties, but we did enjoy the drama of the performances, the singing, the orchestra, and the atmospheric line-drawn set, pumping out smoke over the rooftops of Paris.
WNO is on tour with this production until the 1st of December 2012. www.wno.org.uk
We live next door to two musicians who work for the Welsh National Opera(WNO) and one of them is Rhys's guitar tutor. My counselling room backs onto their music room where they rehearse. Sometimes my clients are privy to our very own secret concert of cello and violin, giving a melodramatic backdrop to the action in my room. All the musicians' children are also musical. Before their eldest son went to uni, we would often hear his beautiful piano pieces and singing as he practised for the entrance exams. More latterly their younger son has taken up the trumpet. We now get the theme tunes from, 'Eastenders', 'The Last of the Summer Wine,' and 'Wallace and Gromet.' At least the latter usually breaks the tension and gets a laugh. When a client's just lost their husband or is suffering from post-traumatic stress there aren't a lot of laughs.
So having had all this for free for so long through our adjoining walls, we thought we'd like to see the performances that go with the music, and now we're rather hooked. What helps is the sur-titles in English and Welsh. It still seems to take an age to hear a performer singing that he enjoys a drink, fancies another man or is leaving his woman. At least now we know exactly what's happening. The other great thing for ignorant opera goers like us are the pre-show talks. On this occasion Dewi Savage, who I remembered as an actor in the days when I worked for Spectacle Theatre, did the honours in a self deprecating way that got laughs from the predominantly silver-surfer audience. In these half hour talks you get to know a bit of the background of the life and times of the composer, in this case Puccini, and a synopsis of who loves who, who falls out of love with who, who gets jealous and who dies of consumption- and there's still time for a G&T before the show starts.
This WNO production of La bohème is conducted by Simon Phillippo, directed by Annabel Arden with David Kempster as Marcello, Alex Vicens as Rodolpho, Giselle Allen as Mimi and Kate Valentine as Musetta. The opera is set in Paris's Latin Quarter at the end of the nineteenth century and as the title suggests is the story of a group of bohemian artists who fall in and out of love in a garret, get jealous, and sing over each other in magnificent voices as Mimi dies of consumption.
We didn't go away humming a well known ditty as we did for Don Giovanni and The Marriage of Figaro. And we weren't quite convinced that the bohemians were in their early twenties-more like their forties, but we did enjoy the drama of the performances, the singing, the orchestra, and the atmospheric line-drawn set, pumping out smoke over the rooftops of Paris.
WNO is on tour with this production until the 1st of December 2012. www.wno.org.uk
Thursday 4 October 2012
BEFORE IT RAINS
'Before it Rains,' is a powerful play written by Katherine Chandler and directed by Roisin McBrinn. It is a Sherman Cymru and Bristol Old Vic co-production. Set on an allotment and in the woods behind a tough Cardiff housing estate, it explores the relationships between an alcoholic, protective Mum, her autistic son and his street-wise, bullying friend. The violence we are told is occuring off stage creates tension on stage, slowly building, and erupting into a cataclysmic and explosive ending; in efforts to protect her son, the Mum provokes the wild friend (abused by his sadistic father) to take his own life. The event is truly shocking.
The cast of Lisa Palfrey, Craig Gazey and Harry Ferrier gave really convincing performances. The language felt authentic, but at times the script fell into 'telling rather showing' and there were some speeches that felt a bit too long. The set, designed by Alyson Cummins- a mound of earth, dug and re-dug by the autistic son, with pillars of the estate underpass doubling as trees in the woods, and ropes for branches, worked well and provided an evocative atmosphere. Pity the seating in Theatre 2 hasn't been updated with the rest of the building. Sitting for an hour and a half on a hard chair isn't great for one's concentration.
The play is on until the 6th of October at the Sherman. Under 25s are half price.
The cast of Lisa Palfrey, Craig Gazey and Harry Ferrier gave really convincing performances. The language felt authentic, but at times the script fell into 'telling rather showing' and there were some speeches that felt a bit too long. The set, designed by Alyson Cummins- a mound of earth, dug and re-dug by the autistic son, with pillars of the estate underpass doubling as trees in the woods, and ropes for branches, worked well and provided an evocative atmosphere. Pity the seating in Theatre 2 hasn't been updated with the rest of the building. Sitting for an hour and a half on a hard chair isn't great for one's concentration.
The play is on until the 6th of October at the Sherman. Under 25s are half price.
Tuesday 2 October 2012
PASSING THROUGH THE PAST
This weekend was one of our now irregular visits to the capital. The purpose of going was a school reunion. Eight of us have been meeting annually for the past six years. Last year it was at the Brighton races, this year it was at Petersham Nurseries, near Richmond. Reunions are funny things. You have a shared history. I knew these people intimately as a teenager, but our lives have all taken very different paths. It's fun to catch up but I'm finding that reminiscing over the same few memories that we seem to hold is starting to pall. I wonder about the meaning of the reunion to each of us. One friend, who I am in regular contact with, suggested I see the event as just a pleasant lunch with pleasant people and attach no deeper significance. Not sure I can do that.
So it seemed somewhat synchronistic that the following evening the play we went to see at The Royal Court Theatre by Caryl Churchill, called 'Love and Information' explored the different meanings that people in relationships (romantic and otherwise) attach to shared knowledge, memories and information. There were 57 scenes set in a white cube. Lightning scene changes accompanied by different soundtracks gave the piece momentum and vitality. The acting was superb, the direction by James Macdonald sharp and clever, the script quirky, funny and poignant.
The past featured heavily in the two visual art exhibitions we saw: Bronze at the Royal Academy of Arts and Edvard Munch: The Modern Eye at the Tate Modern.
'Bronze' presents a landmark exhibition of the finest bronzes from across the globe, from antiquity up to the present day, putting the spotlight on era-defining works by Donatello,Ghiberti,Rodin,Picasso and contemporary greats such as Jasper Johns and Jeff Koons.' As we opened the floor-to- ceiling doors into the exhibition, our mouths dropped at a half-limbed Roman figure, green with alabaster eyes, flying above us in suspension. Stunning drama to whet our appetite to a great show.
Edvard Munch: The Modern Eye' brings together his paintings, drawings, prints,photographs, sculpture and film to offer a new perspective on the Norwegian artist'. Much of the work was produced in the 20th century. His work was shaped by emotional and psychological states rather than a conventionally naturalistic representation of the world. There are a lot of self portraits and I found myself searching his face for knowledge of the inner man. His memories of a tragic childhood and his experience of ill health, nervous breakdowns, aging and a life of turmoil are evident in the colours, the distortions, the inter-play of the real and the spirit world in his work.
All this and a conversation with my brother about our childhood memories made me wonder about my own childhood memories, how much I may have suppressed, reshaped or distorted. I feel quite inspired to embark on a new phase of creativity to explore this through different artistic mediums. I may be passing through your past on my way. I would love to hear from you if you have any stories, thoughts or feedback on this theme.
Thursday 23 August 2012
EDINBURGH FESTIVALS 2012
It's festival time again and I've just got back from a literary feast in Edinburgh. Here's a brief round up of the shows I saw at the Fringe, the International and Book Festivals. First the serious stuff:
- 'Krapp's Last Tape' by Samuel Beckett and directed by Fiona Baddeley, featuring Tom Owen (from 'Last of the Summer Wine'). An old man listens to recordings he's made over the past forty years reflecting on his life and relationships and prepares to make his final tape. It's a very moving and sad play and was brilliantly performed.
- 'The Fantasist' by Theatre Temoin & Cie Traversiere. The play explores 'the murky depths and glorious heights of bipolar illness through a stunning collision of puppetry, physical theatre and original music.' I came out of this one reeling; it was so powerful. Again, brilliantly performed, with the puppets adding a surreal and disturbing quality to the story.
- 'And No More Shall We Part' by Tom Holloway, directed by James MacDonald and co-starring Bill Patterson as Don and Dearbhla Molloy as Pam, performed at the Traverse Theatre. The play 'looks at what happens when death comes into the room.' Pam has a terminal illness and plans to end her life. Don doesn't want her to, but she needs his help. The story raises ethical issues about a person's individual rights and autonomy and the impact of euthanasia on their partners. The performances were so convincing that audience members were bawling and hugging each other as they left the theatre.
- 'Gullivers Travels' by Jonathan Swift performed by the National Theatre of Romania. We'd seen their amazing production of 'Faust' a few years ago and perhaps were expecting too much. It's a very visual production with great imagery and set, a wonderful avant-rock score and huge ensemble, even featuring a live stallion on stage. However, not knowing the intricacies of the story I was often lost and confused. Gave us lots to talk about though.
It was a relief to see some comedy interspersed. This included:
- Shappi Korshandi, an Iranian stand-up comedienne with stories of her filthy sex life
- Jarlath Regan, an Irish stand-up comedian with a show, entitled,'The Audacity of Hope and The Inspirational Stupidity of Perseverance.' Funny, but seemed a bit mild after Shappi.
- John Shuttleworth, a Yorkshire comedian/storyteller trying to play the organ with a show described as, 'weird,whimsical and wacky'. His followers were in hysterics at every throwaway remark. There was one song about the tragedy of having two margarine cartons open in the fridge at the same time. I'm now a follower.
- The Dog-Eared Collective's new show,'You're Amazing. (Now Look At Me) ' Fast, physical, funny and surreal sketches of their world. They are all great performers, but couldn't take my eyes off the versatile Joanna Hutt. Partly because she looks the spitting image of her mother as a younger woman. And partly because her mother was sitting next to me.
Other shows included:
- 'Julia Donaldson's Children's Show ' Julia acted and sang her stories against an illustrated backdrop, accompanied by her husband, other actors and children from the audience. Stories included The 'Highway Rat', 'Paper Dolls' and 'The Gruffalo', performed in the Scots language. Over 600 children and their parents sat enthralled. Including us.
- 'The Big Bite-Size Breakfast' We had Menu 1: 'Vintage 1940's, which included strawberries,croissants,coffee and four very clever short plays by Lucy Kaufman on the theme of Vintage.
- 'Chapel Street,'by Luke Barnes. This was part of the Old Vic's New (meaning 'young') Voices programme. The play was performed as two interweaving monologues telling the individual stories of the teenagers' drunken Friday night out and the aspirations of a disaffected generation. Clever writing and excellent performances by Cary Crankson and Ria Zmitrowicz.
There was also a lot of eating, imbibing, strolling, meeting friends, chatting and soaking up the rush. If you have never been to the Edinburgh Festival, you really should. You'd love it!
PS I slept for a solid thirteen hours afterwards.
Wednesday 25 July 2012
TORCHBEARERS
'Torchbearers' is a Valleys Kids and Wales Millenium Centre Co-production-the result of a long standing partnership with South African artists and community arts organisations. It is part of Wales' Cultural Olympiad and London 2012 Festival.
The programme describes it as,
' a spectacular cross-cultural performance, which celebrates the extraordinary achievements of Valleys Kids and their inspirational creative partners in Wales and South Africa. Together, they are succeeding in changing the lives of disadvantaged individuals in their communities through engaging them in the arts'.
We went to see the show on Friday to a packed auditorium. The show is highly ambitious with a cast of what seems like hundreds-South African dancers, actors, gymnasts, actors, singers and musicians-mixed in with singers, actors, dancers, musicians and young people from Valleys' communities. It is a love story of a South African girl and Welsh boy, who meet on the film set of 'Zulu' at the time Nelson Mandela is imprisoned. They are now old reminiscing about those days.
The production is awesome and it almost seems disloyal to be at all critical as I'm a great fan of Valleys Kids since I worked with Richard Morgan and Margaret Jervis, thirty odd years ago at Rhondda Community Arts and what was then Penygraig Community Project. I loved the African input-it was so professional and slick, I was moved by the dancing, the music score by Paula Gardiner is inspiring and the singing fantastic. The production is energetic with a great set designed by Mary Drummond. For me a weakness lies in the script by Laurence Allen. It isn't always clear and at times I found it confusing and repetitive. The casting of a mixed race South African, seemingly representing the old Welsh man as the young boy was confusing. This wasn't helped by some poor sound, although given I was having problems with my own hearing at the time, it could have been me. However, apart from that it is an amazing achievement.
It's going to be performed at Artscape Theatre in Cape Town on November 8,9.10 2012. Well worth the airfare!
The programme describes it as,
' a spectacular cross-cultural performance, which celebrates the extraordinary achievements of Valleys Kids and their inspirational creative partners in Wales and South Africa. Together, they are succeeding in changing the lives of disadvantaged individuals in their communities through engaging them in the arts'.
We went to see the show on Friday to a packed auditorium. The show is highly ambitious with a cast of what seems like hundreds-South African dancers, actors, gymnasts, actors, singers and musicians-mixed in with singers, actors, dancers, musicians and young people from Valleys' communities. It is a love story of a South African girl and Welsh boy, who meet on the film set of 'Zulu' at the time Nelson Mandela is imprisoned. They are now old reminiscing about those days.
The production is awesome and it almost seems disloyal to be at all critical as I'm a great fan of Valleys Kids since I worked with Richard Morgan and Margaret Jervis, thirty odd years ago at Rhondda Community Arts and what was then Penygraig Community Project. I loved the African input-it was so professional and slick, I was moved by the dancing, the music score by Paula Gardiner is inspiring and the singing fantastic. The production is energetic with a great set designed by Mary Drummond. For me a weakness lies in the script by Laurence Allen. It isn't always clear and at times I found it confusing and repetitive. The casting of a mixed race South African, seemingly representing the old Welsh man as the young boy was confusing. This wasn't helped by some poor sound, although given I was having problems with my own hearing at the time, it could have been me. However, apart from that it is an amazing achievement.
It's going to be performed at Artscape Theatre in Cape Town on November 8,9.10 2012. Well worth the airfare!
THE EXHIBITIONISTS
The Exhibitionists is a BBC Cymru Wales series, a collaboration with Amgueddfa Cymru - National Museum Wales, followed five individuals with no formal art background as they were set a series of tasks, the first time ever a museum has allowed such extraordinary access to its important art collection for members of the public to handle, discuss, and put on show.
Helping them along the way have been two figures in the Welsh art world. Osi Rhys Osmond is a highly respected Welsh painter and a Senior Lecturer of Art at Swansea Metropolitan University. Karen MacKinnon is Exhibitions Curator at the Glynn Vivian Art Gallery, Swansea.
As finalists, Efa Thomas, a musician and Cardiff journalism student originally from Criccieth, and Julia Manser a charity sector worker and keen Swansea City FC follower, were given their own exhibitions in the National Museum's new wing for modern and contemporary art, Gallery 24. Those visiting the gallery were asked to vote for their favorite exhibition. Efa received the most public votes with her theme of destruction and identity.
We really enjoyed the series- a bit of a cross between Masterchef and the Apprentice. The contestants were all very different, coming from a range of backgrounds and ages. In some ways they were all winners, because what was asked of them would have been challenging to those with a knowledge of art and art history. None of the contestants had any art background. We've often thought that the Museum has been rather conservative in its curation, although there are exciting exceptions, such as the bi-annual international Artis Mundi. We'd heard that there are storerooms holding treasures which the public never get to see. Until the recent extensions at the Museum, contemporary collections in my view didn't have a lot of coherence and were displayed in poor light. I found them depressing. But the new exhibition rooms shine great light on older and new work. And when was the last time you saw an exhibition of women's art there? Well, there's one on now!
We were eager to see the exhibition and last Friday on entering the Museum we caught sight of Julia Manser, the runner-up, whose theme for the competition was women. I approached her and told her we'd made a special journey. She'd just given a talk (we didn't know about it) but said she'd do it again just for us. We were given seats by the warden and sat down while Julia warmly and enthusiastically explained the reasons for her choices and gave background to the lives of artists such as Gwen John, Sue Williams, and Siani Rhys Jones, to name a few. She's clearly learnt an enormous amount and enjoyed the whole experience. She brings a fresh, personal and enthusiastic heart and mind to her selection. Her captions are witty and some made me laugh out loud. Not the stuffy way the Museum may do it. Efa's selection is very different-her themes are destruction and identity, with works by Ifor Davies, Iwan Bala and more contemporary, younger, less known artists. She brings the same fresh creativity to her curation. I really hope that the Museum will learn how much more accessible that makes our experience. Because of the tight time scales of the series, there's no catalogue available yet.
We really enjoyed the series- a bit of a cross between Masterchef and the Apprentice. The contestants were all very different, coming from a range of backgrounds and ages. In some ways they were all winners, because what was asked of them would have been challenging to those with a knowledge of art and art history. None of the contestants had any art background. We've often thought that the Museum has been rather conservative in its curation, although there are exciting exceptions, such as the bi-annual international Artis Mundi. We'd heard that there are storerooms holding treasures which the public never get to see. Until the recent extensions at the Museum, contemporary collections in my view didn't have a lot of coherence and were displayed in poor light. I found them depressing. But the new exhibition rooms shine great light on older and new work. And when was the last time you saw an exhibition of women's art there? Well, there's one on now!
We were eager to see the exhibition and last Friday on entering the Museum we caught sight of Julia Manser, the runner-up, whose theme for the competition was women. I approached her and told her we'd made a special journey. She'd just given a talk (we didn't know about it) but said she'd do it again just for us. We were given seats by the warden and sat down while Julia warmly and enthusiastically explained the reasons for her choices and gave background to the lives of artists such as Gwen John, Sue Williams, and Siani Rhys Jones, to name a few. She's clearly learnt an enormous amount and enjoyed the whole experience. She brings a fresh, personal and enthusiastic heart and mind to her selection. Her captions are witty and some made me laugh out loud. Not the stuffy way the Museum may do it. Efa's selection is very different-her themes are destruction and identity, with works by Ifor Davies, Iwan Bala and more contemporary, younger, less known artists. She brings the same fresh creativity to her curation. I really hope that the Museum will learn how much more accessible that makes our experience. Because of the tight time scales of the series, there's no catalogue available yet.
The exhibitions can be seen at the National Museum Cardiff until August 19. Efa is giving a talk about her selection on Tuesday 14th August at 2pm. and the pieces of art can be seen on the Your Paintings website. The series is produced by Gwynedd-based Cwmni Da TV company.
Watch the last episode on iPlayer.
Friday 13 July 2012
GREEN CANTERBURY TALES
This week I met up with a small group of women poets, writers and storytellers who want to take up the challenge to 'Walk for the Earth.' Our group,'Seeds of Inspiration', involves a kind of pagan pilgrimage to sacred sites, which we will circumnavigate at Beltane, the Summer Solstice and Lammas, before joining others at the Confest in Canterbury in September 2013. We'll be having conversations, gathering and telling stories and maybe even performing our work on green themes-if we can find venues. Below is more information about the project. If you would like to start a seed group of your own and join Walk for the Earth see www.greencanterburytales.co.uk.
"Storytellers, poets, musicians, artists and those concerned about the state of our world. You are invited to gather in your localities around Britain to make a story pilgrimage across the country towards Canterbury. We will walk, cycle, ride and use other forms of slow travel, declaring our care for the world through storytelling, poetry and music.
Starting in May 2013 we will converge on Canterbury in September 2013, celebrating our journeys with a conference-festival (Confest). This will be a 21st century Canterbury Tales on a sustainability theme: A WALK FOR THE EARTH.
We want this pilgrimage to be a positive affirmation of the power of the spoken word. Stories of people alive now will mingle with tales of old to honour both traditional roots and contemporary shoots. We will reach out to diverse groups of people. We will learn once more to love this venerable land, to move through it along highways and byways with a sense of adventure, respect and appreciation.
We want to keep asking ourselves and each other: ‘What matters? What can we do? How do we live?’ We want to give voice to the low impact, Earth-friendly, human scale, creative and courageous alternative to all that is corrupt and dysfunctional in mainstream culture. We are inspired by the thought of hundreds (if not thousands) of people from all over Britain walking simultaneously, as if along spokes of a wheel, and converging on an ancient sacred centre to celebrate simple yet immensely rich journeys." (www. greencanterburytales.com)
Wednesday 20 June 2012
SCOTLAND,THE DRY
Who would have believed it? Three weeks holidaying in Scotland and no rain. Well, a couple of times it did rain, but we were en route for our ferries so it didn't stop play. Scotland in late May/ June was truly magnificent. On the Solway Coast, in the South we stayed at a caravan park that had been awarded a David Bellamy gold star. Set in woodland, the Hawthorn trees were in full bloom, looking as if a giant had poured double cream from a pitcher all over the woodland. Or, as I heard one child ask his mother,'Is that a snow tree?'
This area is called the Scottish Riviera, and with its pretty villages and beaches it's easy to see why. It's a very undiscovered part of the country. Most people head north after Gretna Green. It's worth turning left and spending a few days strolling along the coastal paths and through the forests and woodland. The towns are uncrowded. Kirkcudbright (Kir-coo-bri) is our favourite. People are very friendly, the stone cottages with vaulted alleyways leading to pretty gardens are charming. Its good light encourages artists to settle and exhibit there.
Driving north through Dumfries and Galloway and then Ayrshire, we took the ferry from Ardhossan to the Isle of Arran, where we ate kippers for breakfast and had a view over Holy Island, where there is a centre for world peace. Unfortunately, the winds were too strong for the wee ferry, so instead we walked to the cave, where Robert the Bruce was said to have had an encounter with a spider, which inspired him to carry on his campaign to free Scotland from English reign.
Arran is said to be Scotland in miniature, with rich lowland pastures in the South and intimidating mountains in the North. It is quite wealthy and as one of the nearer islands to Glasgow has a lot of visitors. From Arran we took the ferry from Lochanza in the North to Claonaig on Kyntyre. Driving down to Carradale in Mid Kintyre we were able to view the mountains of Arran in late evening light from the opposite shore. Set against the mauvey-pink rhododendrons that dominate Kintyre's landscape, the scene was magical.
We stayed in a log cabin, that was somewhat dog-eared but in a great location- a holiday park set just behind a long sandy beach with forest walks. There I made a basic mistake, wearing three quarter length trousers on a forest walk. I counted 24 love bites from the mighty midge-and that was just on my right leg between foot and calf. Must be something about the plumpness of a female calf that midges go wild for. Rhys didn't have a single bite. Then, he was completely covered up. Repellent must be in short supply and expensive, because someone nicked my leaky one, left by the car during another walk. Midges love hot humid places and are pretty rampant from June to August. We bought midge masks-mine in pink and Rhys's in black, that look like see-through balaclavas. The sort of thing Michael Jackson made his children wear on visits to the zoo in New York. On a guided walk through the gardens at Inverewe in the North West Highland the whole group was wearing midge masks. We looked like we were at some kind of weird gathering of the clans.
We did the obligatory homage to the Mull of Kinytre, made famous by Paul Macartney and Wings, but after a few miles of one-track roads on the edge of a cliff with mist rolling in, we headed back to the safety of our log cabin.
Carradale is a great place to island hop and we hopped over to the little island of Gigha (Gee-ya), twenty minutes from Tayinloan in mid Kintyre. It's owned by its tiny community, seems fairly prosperous and has the beautiful gardens of Achamore. This part of Scotland, the West coast and Hebridean islands are washed by the warm waters of the Atlantic Gulf Stream, so there are many gardens donated by hard-up Lairds or their descendents to the National Trust of Scotland(NTS) and open to the public. The NTS has reciprocal arrangements with the National Trust of England and Wales, so if you're a Welsh member who thinks (like us) it's hardly worth the annual subscription because of the paucity of properties and gardens in Wales, it's worth being a member to take advantage of these Scottish paradises. Unfortunatel, Achamore isn't NTS.
From Kennacraig, a little further north on Kintyre, we made the two hour trip to the Island of Islay(Isla) -The Whisky Isle. There are at least seven distilleries making single malts and blended varieties from raw materials supplied from the mainland and using local peat in the maltings to produce the characteristic smoky elixir. Distilleries give guided tours and tastings for brands such as Laphroaig (Prince Charles' favourite apparently-not that I'm interested), Lagavulin, Caol(Cil) Ila. In late May there's a whisky festival, much loved by Italians,Germans, Americans and Swedes. Our landlady said it's a wild time to come. And we just missed it.
From Kintyre we drove ten hours up to the North West Highlands. At Ballachulish between Oban and Fort William we accidently managed to get behind the Olympic torch procession. The crowd thinking we were part of the support team, I guess, cheered us on with their Coca-Cola and Samsung drum kits. It was a relief to lose them at Fort William. There's only so much regal waving a couple in a Kia Rio can do, and concentrate on the driving.
We stayed in Aultbea in a lodge with a wonderful view of Loch Ewe and the spiky range of the Torridon mountains. Loch Ewe was a top secret place in WW11. It was the mustering HQ for the Arctic Convoys taking supplies to Russia. My uncle was on one of those convoys and I'm keen to learn more. Sadly, he died before I had the chance to ask the right questions.
We walked around lochs, more gardens, cycled, and walked to a lighthouse. We got a lift back with an ex-army couple, who'd been travelling for two years in their souped up jeep with their cat. I'm not a great fan of cats, to say the least. I sat frozen in the passenger seat in case the cat should take a walk over my back and attempt to sit on my lap. If I screamed our driver might topple over the cliff. Thankfully, the cat and I behaved ourselves.
This area is called the Scottish Riviera, and with its pretty villages and beaches it's easy to see why. It's a very undiscovered part of the country. Most people head north after Gretna Green. It's worth turning left and spending a few days strolling along the coastal paths and through the forests and woodland. The towns are uncrowded. Kirkcudbright (Kir-coo-bri) is our favourite. People are very friendly, the stone cottages with vaulted alleyways leading to pretty gardens are charming. Its good light encourages artists to settle and exhibit there.
Driving north through Dumfries and Galloway and then Ayrshire, we took the ferry from Ardhossan to the Isle of Arran, where we ate kippers for breakfast and had a view over Holy Island, where there is a centre for world peace. Unfortunately, the winds were too strong for the wee ferry, so instead we walked to the cave, where Robert the Bruce was said to have had an encounter with a spider, which inspired him to carry on his campaign to free Scotland from English reign.
Arran is said to be Scotland in miniature, with rich lowland pastures in the South and intimidating mountains in the North. It is quite wealthy and as one of the nearer islands to Glasgow has a lot of visitors. From Arran we took the ferry from Lochanza in the North to Claonaig on Kyntyre. Driving down to Carradale in Mid Kintyre we were able to view the mountains of Arran in late evening light from the opposite shore. Set against the mauvey-pink rhododendrons that dominate Kintyre's landscape, the scene was magical.
We stayed in a log cabin, that was somewhat dog-eared but in a great location- a holiday park set just behind a long sandy beach with forest walks. There I made a basic mistake, wearing three quarter length trousers on a forest walk. I counted 24 love bites from the mighty midge-and that was just on my right leg between foot and calf. Must be something about the plumpness of a female calf that midges go wild for. Rhys didn't have a single bite. Then, he was completely covered up. Repellent must be in short supply and expensive, because someone nicked my leaky one, left by the car during another walk. Midges love hot humid places and are pretty rampant from June to August. We bought midge masks-mine in pink and Rhys's in black, that look like see-through balaclavas. The sort of thing Michael Jackson made his children wear on visits to the zoo in New York. On a guided walk through the gardens at Inverewe in the North West Highland the whole group was wearing midge masks. We looked like we were at some kind of weird gathering of the clans.
We did the obligatory homage to the Mull of Kinytre, made famous by Paul Macartney and Wings, but after a few miles of one-track roads on the edge of a cliff with mist rolling in, we headed back to the safety of our log cabin.
Carradale is a great place to island hop and we hopped over to the little island of Gigha (Gee-ya), twenty minutes from Tayinloan in mid Kintyre. It's owned by its tiny community, seems fairly prosperous and has the beautiful gardens of Achamore. This part of Scotland, the West coast and Hebridean islands are washed by the warm waters of the Atlantic Gulf Stream, so there are many gardens donated by hard-up Lairds or their descendents to the National Trust of Scotland(NTS) and open to the public. The NTS has reciprocal arrangements with the National Trust of England and Wales, so if you're a Welsh member who thinks (like us) it's hardly worth the annual subscription because of the paucity of properties and gardens in Wales, it's worth being a member to take advantage of these Scottish paradises. Unfortunatel, Achamore isn't NTS.
From Kennacraig, a little further north on Kintyre, we made the two hour trip to the Island of Islay(Isla) -The Whisky Isle. There are at least seven distilleries making single malts and blended varieties from raw materials supplied from the mainland and using local peat in the maltings to produce the characteristic smoky elixir. Distilleries give guided tours and tastings for brands such as Laphroaig (Prince Charles' favourite apparently-not that I'm interested), Lagavulin, Caol(Cil) Ila. In late May there's a whisky festival, much loved by Italians,Germans, Americans and Swedes. Our landlady said it's a wild time to come. And we just missed it.
From Kintyre we drove ten hours up to the North West Highlands. At Ballachulish between Oban and Fort William we accidently managed to get behind the Olympic torch procession. The crowd thinking we were part of the support team, I guess, cheered us on with their Coca-Cola and Samsung drum kits. It was a relief to lose them at Fort William. There's only so much regal waving a couple in a Kia Rio can do, and concentrate on the driving.
We stayed in Aultbea in a lodge with a wonderful view of Loch Ewe and the spiky range of the Torridon mountains. Loch Ewe was a top secret place in WW11. It was the mustering HQ for the Arctic Convoys taking supplies to Russia. My uncle was on one of those convoys and I'm keen to learn more. Sadly, he died before I had the chance to ask the right questions.
We walked around lochs, more gardens, cycled, and walked to a lighthouse. We got a lift back with an ex-army couple, who'd been travelling for two years in their souped up jeep with their cat. I'm not a great fan of cats, to say the least. I sat frozen in the passenger seat in case the cat should take a walk over my back and attempt to sit on my lap. If I screamed our driver might topple over the cliff. Thankfully, the cat and I behaved ourselves.
Wednesday 23 May 2012
CAMILLE O SULLIVAN'S 'CHANGELING'
Saturday night at the Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama, and Irish-French performer Camille O Sullivan descended the staircase in a sparkly 'Red Riding Hood' cloak to sound bites from darker fairy stories. Through the narrative songs of Jacque Brel, Nick Cave, Bob Dylan,Tom Waits and others, she took her audience on an emotional journey to her surreal world decked out in rosy lights and inhabited by a glowing rabbit lampstand, a discarded horse head, hanging ball gowns, a wind up bird in a cage, Tom Waits in a suitcase, and a dusty book of spells. And her band,'The Singing Bird' of course.
The Daily Telegraph wrote,'When she sings it's as though her breath is soaked in paraffin;one spark,and the whole room would ignite.'
I'd been lucky enough to see her show, 'Changeling' at the Edinburgh Festival last year where it was a sell out. Her Cardiff gig came towards the end of a long tour that clearly had affected her voice, giving it more rawness than I'd remembered. She jumped around the stage like a rabbit, a tiger, a pussy cat, meiowing to her audience while removing layers of her black lacy outfit once hidden beneath her red cloak. And she sang! Songs with stories that intrigued, puzzled, moved,challenged,amused, saddened, and entertained. 'Art songs' exploring the seedier side of life, desolation in love, politics,sexuality, life's degenerates, a celebration of madness and vulerability.
Her show is on tour til June1, For further information about this amazing performer and wonderful singer see www.camilleosullivan.com.
The Daily Telegraph wrote,'When she sings it's as though her breath is soaked in paraffin;one spark,and the whole room would ignite.'
I'd been lucky enough to see her show, 'Changeling' at the Edinburgh Festival last year where it was a sell out. Her Cardiff gig came towards the end of a long tour that clearly had affected her voice, giving it more rawness than I'd remembered. She jumped around the stage like a rabbit, a tiger, a pussy cat, meiowing to her audience while removing layers of her black lacy outfit once hidden beneath her red cloak. And she sang! Songs with stories that intrigued, puzzled, moved,challenged,amused, saddened, and entertained. 'Art songs' exploring the seedier side of life, desolation in love, politics,sexuality, life's degenerates, a celebration of madness and vulerability.
Her show is on tour til June1, For further information about this amazing performer and wonderful singer see www.camilleosullivan.com.
Saturday 28 April 2012
JOHN PIPER & THE IRANIANS
It's probably a first- John Piper and the Iranians together in one sentence. They came together for us last weekend in visiting two separate exhibitions. John Piper, known most famously for his massive stained glass window at Coventry Cathedral, also painted the mountains of Wales. The National Museum currently has an exhibition of these paintings on show until May 13. His use of light is sometimes compared to Turner. After seeing the explosion of colour and light through his window the previous weekend, most of these paintings appear dull and drab in comparison. After a failed first marriage, he married a Welsh woman and lived in North Wales and Pembrokeshire but painted landscapes in Mid Wales too. The paintings of the North Wales landscape are more interesting- full of weather and atmosphere, high rocky edifices plunging into deep black pools. Splashes of light thrill the eye and the imagination as you walk around the room.
The Ffotogallery in Penarth currently has a 'must see' exhibition on until May 12. Entitled.'Bi Nam' it is the first show in the UK representing the work of a group of contemporary Iranian photographers. The photographic and video content explore the cultural and social life of modern Iran with an emphasis on religion, gender and identity. At the preview the staff had run out of time to put the names of the photographers by their work and in the catalogue photographers' gender was not mentioned. As most of the work focused on women's experience and this show is about identity, it would have been interesting to have known the artists' gender. Do men portray Iranian women in this exhibition differently from the way women portray themselves? I would have liked to have some insight. The photos and video are very beautiful. There's a lovely series of women's faces from their noses to their necks, with the focus on the knot of their scarf and the hollow of their neck. I also really enjoyed a video of a woman dressing to go to market as we follow her around her home, and then as if the camera is a child holding onto her coat tail, we follow her around the market as she shops. But many of the photos left me feeling sad-images of loneliness, of empty days locked in the house, women as prisoners in their own homes, observers of life outside.
The Ffotogallery in Penarth currently has a 'must see' exhibition on until May 12. Entitled.'Bi Nam' it is the first show in the UK representing the work of a group of contemporary Iranian photographers. The photographic and video content explore the cultural and social life of modern Iran with an emphasis on religion, gender and identity. At the preview the staff had run out of time to put the names of the photographers by their work and in the catalogue photographers' gender was not mentioned. As most of the work focused on women's experience and this show is about identity, it would have been interesting to have known the artists' gender. Do men portray Iranian women in this exhibition differently from the way women portray themselves? I would have liked to have some insight. The photos and video are very beautiful. There's a lovely series of women's faces from their noses to their necks, with the focus on the knot of their scarf and the hollow of their neck. I also really enjoyed a video of a woman dressing to go to market as we follow her around her home, and then as if the camera is a child holding onto her coat tail, we follow her around the market as she shops. But many of the photos left me feeling sad-images of loneliness, of empty days locked in the house, women as prisoners in their own homes, observers of life outside.
Sunday 22 April 2012
CLYTEMNESTRA
Last night we saw a new adaptation of the Greek classic, 'Clytemnestra' at the Sherman Theatre. The adaptation is by Gwyneth Lewis, who was the National Poet of Wales 2005-06. Her words are in English and Welsh on the front of the Wales Millenium Centre in six-foot-high letters,'In these stones horizons sing'. It is rumoured to be the largest poem in the world.
Gwyneth's poetry sings through the play set in the near future in a world where oil has run out and the world fights for food. Agamemnon sacrifices his daughter, Iphigenia to his barbaric new allies. With the anger and grief of a mother betrayed, Clytemnestra seeks revenge. She is plagued by the 'Furies'-described in the programme as,
' the ancient psychic force that demands avenging family murder. These figures have a primitive relationship with language, respond to impulse' ... 'the beat before rational thought'. . . 'but gain embodiment and change the more they are listened to. They start as pre-linguistic and prefigurative and as the revenge idea develops, they come to resemble fully formed characters. When a character assents to them, they give that character a superhuman drive. They're the precursors and sponsors of poetic language.'
Unfortunately, these moaning, crawling, rolling, licking creatures, for me, became a distraction and irritation from the central characters, whose actors displayed their angst, doubts and impulses brilliantly without the need for the 'Furies' vampire-like excesses. I wonder if this was an interpretation in the direction of Amy Hodge rather than Gwyneth Lewis's writing.
Jaye Griffiths is absolutely compelling as Clytemnestra. I couldn't take my eyes of her on stage. There are great performances by the whole ensemble. The futuristic multi-levelled set by designer, Takis, is superb- located in an abattoir with props that double for the family home, and lit dramatically by lighting designer, Lee Curran.
But it is the ending of the play that really takes your breadth away. Agamemnon, played by Nick Ross, is murdered in a revenge attack by Clytemnestra, who is clearly turned on and become insane by the blood letting. In the light we see Agamemnon hanging from the ceiling on a chain, bound and suspended by his feet like a slaughtered animal. As the rest of the action played out and minutes past, I began to worry about all that blood rushing to his head. At the curtain call he didn't appear straight away. The other actors kept looking over their shoulders for him. I don't know if it was done deliberately, but it worked. The whole audience giggled nervously and sighed with relief when he eventually appeared to take his place and great applause.
Gwyneth's poetry sings through the play set in the near future in a world where oil has run out and the world fights for food. Agamemnon sacrifices his daughter, Iphigenia to his barbaric new allies. With the anger and grief of a mother betrayed, Clytemnestra seeks revenge. She is plagued by the 'Furies'-described in the programme as,
' the ancient psychic force that demands avenging family murder. These figures have a primitive relationship with language, respond to impulse' ... 'the beat before rational thought'. . . 'but gain embodiment and change the more they are listened to. They start as pre-linguistic and prefigurative and as the revenge idea develops, they come to resemble fully formed characters. When a character assents to them, they give that character a superhuman drive. They're the precursors and sponsors of poetic language.'
Unfortunately, these moaning, crawling, rolling, licking creatures, for me, became a distraction and irritation from the central characters, whose actors displayed their angst, doubts and impulses brilliantly without the need for the 'Furies' vampire-like excesses. I wonder if this was an interpretation in the direction of Amy Hodge rather than Gwyneth Lewis's writing.
Jaye Griffiths is absolutely compelling as Clytemnestra. I couldn't take my eyes of her on stage. There are great performances by the whole ensemble. The futuristic multi-levelled set by designer, Takis, is superb- located in an abattoir with props that double for the family home, and lit dramatically by lighting designer, Lee Curran.
But it is the ending of the play that really takes your breadth away. Agamemnon, played by Nick Ross, is murdered in a revenge attack by Clytemnestra, who is clearly turned on and become insane by the blood letting. In the light we see Agamemnon hanging from the ceiling on a chain, bound and suspended by his feet like a slaughtered animal. As the rest of the action played out and minutes past, I began to worry about all that blood rushing to his head. At the curtain call he didn't appear straight away. The other actors kept looking over their shoulders for him. I don't know if it was done deliberately, but it worked. The whole audience giggled nervously and sighed with relief when he eventually appeared to take his place and great applause.
Wednesday 18 April 2012
THE FATHER & OTHER DRAMAS
On Saturday we went up to Coventry to see a new version of Strindberg's play, 'The Father' by Laurie Slade at the Belgrade Theatre. I met Laurie on an Arvon writing course in November 2010 and was keen to see his play and give support along with several other ex-Arvonites.
The play explores the claustrophobia of a long marriage and the power struggles and trust issues that go with it. Laurie wanted to bring something fresh and dynamic to the original and he is very successful in doing this. Tension builds from the opening scene, it never palls and the ending is shocking. Joe Harmston directs an excellent team of actors, many RSC old hands. Joe Dixon plays the Captain and Katy Stephens his wife, Laura. In the programme he says,"My acid test is 'will people leave the theatre with questions?'...I hope people will leave arguing about how they feel about what they've seen." The ex-Arvonites certainly did that. At the Bella Pasta we chewed over the nature of madness, fidelity, seduction and sex in the relationship, the use of an only child to play out power struggles, the expected roles of husband and wife in the 1880's, and the role of Laura in the Captain's descent into an eventual mental breakdown.
As if we hadn't had enough drama for one night, at 3.30am we were sleeping soundly at our Premier Inn when we were awoken suddenly by a high pitched screeching drone. I bolted out of bed, thinking it was the TV and Rhys fumbled about looking for the on/off button. It wasn't the TV. It was the fire alarm. I grabbed Rhys's shirt and he got up on the bed waving it madly underneath the ceiling alarm as if he were trying to tame smoke from burning bacon in our kitchen. No luck. Still semi-comatose we opened the hotel door of our room to see guests in various states of undress marching resolutely towards the staircase. I don't normally wear anything in bed, but luckily on this occasion I was wearing a shorty nightdress bought at the time of my hip replacement. With some difficulty I pulled on my only footwear- laced ankle booties and grabbed my priorities- denture, handbag and mobile phone. Rhys put on a pair of trousers and out we trooped; into a crystal cold night to join a hundred or so others shivering in their nightclothes or quilted jackets depending on their foresight. No information and no staff visible.
The following morning we found out that it had been someone smoking in their room. One member of staff had been trying to wake a party of profoundly deaf while the other dealt with the culprit. No staff available to deal with the rest of us. The culprit's punishment? A lifetime ban from Premier Inns. Our reward? The guarantee of a full refund when you don't get a good night's sleep. Bingo!
With all these visuals in mind, it was apt that Pontardawe Script Cafe's speaker this month was Elen Bowman on 'Thinking in Pictures'. Elen is a RADA and Stanislavsky trained actress and director and has advised The Royal Court Theatre on the Russian's methodology. She is directing The Tempest with Teater Genedlaethol (The Welsh language National Theatre of Wales) later this year. She work-shopped a play, 'Mrs Pink Power Ranger' by a new member, Geraint Desmond, and helped us consider how to build the visual world of our play through the characters. A stimulating evening.
The play explores the claustrophobia of a long marriage and the power struggles and trust issues that go with it. Laurie wanted to bring something fresh and dynamic to the original and he is very successful in doing this. Tension builds from the opening scene, it never palls and the ending is shocking. Joe Harmston directs an excellent team of actors, many RSC old hands. Joe Dixon plays the Captain and Katy Stephens his wife, Laura. In the programme he says,"My acid test is 'will people leave the theatre with questions?'...I hope people will leave arguing about how they feel about what they've seen." The ex-Arvonites certainly did that. At the Bella Pasta we chewed over the nature of madness, fidelity, seduction and sex in the relationship, the use of an only child to play out power struggles, the expected roles of husband and wife in the 1880's, and the role of Laura in the Captain's descent into an eventual mental breakdown.
As if we hadn't had enough drama for one night, at 3.30am we were sleeping soundly at our Premier Inn when we were awoken suddenly by a high pitched screeching drone. I bolted out of bed, thinking it was the TV and Rhys fumbled about looking for the on/off button. It wasn't the TV. It was the fire alarm. I grabbed Rhys's shirt and he got up on the bed waving it madly underneath the ceiling alarm as if he were trying to tame smoke from burning bacon in our kitchen. No luck. Still semi-comatose we opened the hotel door of our room to see guests in various states of undress marching resolutely towards the staircase. I don't normally wear anything in bed, but luckily on this occasion I was wearing a shorty nightdress bought at the time of my hip replacement. With some difficulty I pulled on my only footwear- laced ankle booties and grabbed my priorities- denture, handbag and mobile phone. Rhys put on a pair of trousers and out we trooped; into a crystal cold night to join a hundred or so others shivering in their nightclothes or quilted jackets depending on their foresight. No information and no staff visible.
The following morning we found out that it had been someone smoking in their room. One member of staff had been trying to wake a party of profoundly deaf while the other dealt with the culprit. No staff available to deal with the rest of us. The culprit's punishment? A lifetime ban from Premier Inns. Our reward? The guarantee of a full refund when you don't get a good night's sleep. Bingo!
With all these visuals in mind, it was apt that Pontardawe Script Cafe's speaker this month was Elen Bowman on 'Thinking in Pictures'. Elen is a RADA and Stanislavsky trained actress and director and has advised The Royal Court Theatre on the Russian's methodology. She is directing The Tempest with Teater Genedlaethol (The Welsh language National Theatre of Wales) later this year. She work-shopped a play, 'Mrs Pink Power Ranger' by a new member, Geraint Desmond, and helped us consider how to build the visual world of our play through the characters. A stimulating evening.
Sunday 1 April 2012
'SORRY' IN PONTARDAWE & OTHER SORRIES
This week we launched our joint exhibition of art work and poetry,'Sorry I don't eat fish' on the theme of climate change and a celebration of the natural world at Pontardawe Arts Centre with a wine reception and an open mike poetry session. About 50 people attended and a number of poets read their work. Two people sang, one of whom had composed and written a song himself. Some poets had produced work at a workshop led by Susan Richardson, Eco-Poet with Radio 4's 'Saturday Live' and organised by Awel Aman Tawe for a competition on the theme of climate change to be judged by Carol Ann Duffy, the British Poet Laureate. Profits on sales of Rhys's work will be donated to the trust representing families affected by the Gleision Colliery disaster. On the evening we made about 150 pounds on prints and catalogues and are hoping that this amount will increase by the end of the exhibition, the 20th of April 2012. If you are interested in buying an original the Arts Centre can offer Collectorplan, an interest-free credit service to help people buy contemporary art and craft in Wales. Originals range from 100-200 pounds.
Other events at Pontardawe in March included attendance at a scriptwriting weekend workshop organised by Script Cafe and led by Louise Osborn on issue-based playwriting. Louise is a very experienced writer and director, who I first met over twenty years ago when she was an actor with Theatre Powys. She inspired me to start writing a new play that I'd been thinking about for some time, its working title, 'Crisis of Confidence' a love story set in Tent City during the' Occupy London' protests this winter. The first five minutes were read at Script Cafe's open mike session and I had helpful feedback. 'Mess up the Mess', a youth theatre group joined us to read their own and our plays. Some of our members had written pieces especially for younger people. Their involvement was refreshing and we hope to invite them back again sometime soon.
The Sherman Theatre in Cardiff re-opened after renovations. There's a clinical new entrance hall that needed filling. The Artistic team invited writers on their data base to submit plays no longer than a page to decorate the walls. I submitted five plays but after some searching I could only find one laminated and left on a table for easy reading. Plays are strung from bars on ribbons resembling fly-catching paper, way out of reading sight unless you're a stilt walker. Others are printed in pale orange and green and pasted on pillars. A good idea to promote playwriting but in presentation appears tacky and somewhat dismissive of our efforts. One new bonus is that 'Writers nights' offer concessions on ticket prices and a free drink. It's the team's plan to pick their favourite plays-on-a-page and paste them on their website.
However, we did see three very good plays there in the past month. Pity that the renovations didn't run to more comfy seats in the smaller theatre but that didn't stop us enjoying Greg Cullen's new play 'Muscle'. I first met Greg when he worked as writer with Theatre Powys and did some work with Spectacle Theatre. 'Muscle' has an all male cast and through a series of personal stories tells us with great energy, pathos and humour what it's like to be a man.
Kate Tempest's debut play,'Wasted', is the story of three old friends coming to terms with loss, love and struggling to find meaning in life. Much of the action was rapped to an exhilarating score. This young performance poet, rapper and playwright is a talent to watch. The Paines Plough production was excellent.
The third production in the comfortable larger theatre was absolutely outstanding. 'Lovesong', by Abi Morgan with Sian Phillips in a leading role, tells the story of an older couple reflecting on their younger lives together. It is one of the most moving plays I've seen for a long time. There was a lot of sniffing going on in the audience. It is beautifully written and produced with clever surprises, such as a disappearance through the double bed, the actors reappearing out of the fridge or the wardrobe, and the old couple and their younger selves dancing around each other with poise and elegance.
The only disappointment was Peter Gill's adaptation of Chekhov's, 'A Provincial Life.' It was so boring that we left at the interval.
On Friday night Rhys sang with his 'singing for the natural voice' group at an event to raise money for Water Aid, led by their tutor, Laura Bradshaw. This sorry goes to the penny whistle players who may have been distracted by the laughter from the back of the hall as my friend and I did a French and Saunders type impersonation of Irish dancing. Or as one woman said, 'You remind me of Morecambe and Wise.' I really must lay off that Taffy Cider.
Other events at Pontardawe in March included attendance at a scriptwriting weekend workshop organised by Script Cafe and led by Louise Osborn on issue-based playwriting. Louise is a very experienced writer and director, who I first met over twenty years ago when she was an actor with Theatre Powys. She inspired me to start writing a new play that I'd been thinking about for some time, its working title, 'Crisis of Confidence' a love story set in Tent City during the' Occupy London' protests this winter. The first five minutes were read at Script Cafe's open mike session and I had helpful feedback. 'Mess up the Mess', a youth theatre group joined us to read their own and our plays. Some of our members had written pieces especially for younger people. Their involvement was refreshing and we hope to invite them back again sometime soon.
The Sherman Theatre in Cardiff re-opened after renovations. There's a clinical new entrance hall that needed filling. The Artistic team invited writers on their data base to submit plays no longer than a page to decorate the walls. I submitted five plays but after some searching I could only find one laminated and left on a table for easy reading. Plays are strung from bars on ribbons resembling fly-catching paper, way out of reading sight unless you're a stilt walker. Others are printed in pale orange and green and pasted on pillars. A good idea to promote playwriting but in presentation appears tacky and somewhat dismissive of our efforts. One new bonus is that 'Writers nights' offer concessions on ticket prices and a free drink. It's the team's plan to pick their favourite plays-on-a-page and paste them on their website.
However, we did see three very good plays there in the past month. Pity that the renovations didn't run to more comfy seats in the smaller theatre but that didn't stop us enjoying Greg Cullen's new play 'Muscle'. I first met Greg when he worked as writer with Theatre Powys and did some work with Spectacle Theatre. 'Muscle' has an all male cast and through a series of personal stories tells us with great energy, pathos and humour what it's like to be a man.
Kate Tempest's debut play,'Wasted', is the story of three old friends coming to terms with loss, love and struggling to find meaning in life. Much of the action was rapped to an exhilarating score. This young performance poet, rapper and playwright is a talent to watch. The Paines Plough production was excellent.
The third production in the comfortable larger theatre was absolutely outstanding. 'Lovesong', by Abi Morgan with Sian Phillips in a leading role, tells the story of an older couple reflecting on their younger lives together. It is one of the most moving plays I've seen for a long time. There was a lot of sniffing going on in the audience. It is beautifully written and produced with clever surprises, such as a disappearance through the double bed, the actors reappearing out of the fridge or the wardrobe, and the old couple and their younger selves dancing around each other with poise and elegance.
The only disappointment was Peter Gill's adaptation of Chekhov's, 'A Provincial Life.' It was so boring that we left at the interval.
On Friday night Rhys sang with his 'singing for the natural voice' group at an event to raise money for Water Aid, led by their tutor, Laura Bradshaw. This sorry goes to the penny whistle players who may have been distracted by the laughter from the back of the hall as my friend and I did a French and Saunders type impersonation of Irish dancing. Or as one woman said, 'You remind me of Morecambe and Wise.' I really must lay off that Taffy Cider.
Sunday 26 February 2012
'BUT IS IT ART?'
This was the title of a lecture we attended today run by The Celtic Learners Network, a private initiative set up by a small group to complement what's provided by the local authority's adult education classes and the national museum service. We'd just got back from a few days in London, visiting visual art exhibitions and theatre performances, so the timing was perfect. Mair Jones, a young art historian took us back to where contemporary art began; at the invention of photography.
Artists looked for different subject matter-the challenge was to create something that a photograph couldn't. We journeyed superficially through Impressionism, Post Impressionism, Expressionism, Cubism and made a pit stop in 1910 with Marcel Duchamp, who she dubbed 'The Godfather of Conceptual Art'. He placed 'found objects' in galleries to shock the establishment and challenge their perception of what is art. His 'Fountain'(a urinal) being one of his found pieces, possibly pulled off the wall of the gallery's toilet wall or one waiting to be found in a builder's yard. The craft of making was less important than the idea behind it, which presumably was his need to pee while waiting for visitors to his launch.
Then the Surrealists took the question forward, reversing our expectations and incorporating their dreams and fantasies. Art becomes more of a puzzle. Merit Oppenheim's tea cup, saucer and spoon created in animal fur-made for a rabbit to drink from, perhaps? Frida Kahlo, my favourite painter took up the challenge and expressed what it was like to be her- a Mexican woman, who'd had a series of mishaps in her life-a terrible accident, several miscarriages and not least, a passionate painful marriage to Diego Rivera.
The baton was passed to Jackson Pollock, an Abstract Expressionist, with a love of swirling and dancing while throwing paint at a canvas. So although those paintings look random . .. He passed the question onto the Pop Artists, who used everyday images from the media, who passed it on to the Fluxus Movement, performance artists who used their own bodies and invited others to take part in the action. Yoko Ono invited John Lennon into her gallery to walk up a ladder and read a tiny message on the ceiling, that said,'Yes'. The rest is art history. Joseph Beuys felt strongly about the Vietnam war and locked himself and a Coyote dog in a room in New York for three days. Nobody asked the dog and there were no disclaimers.
They threw the question over to Arte Povera, who used their own blood, sweat and tears, displayed in plastic to express their political ideology. The question transformed itself into, 'Does art have to be permanent?' Artists built installations that could be site specific or be recreated easily somewhere else. They consist of multi-art forms and use technology. So called ephemeral pieces were usually filmed, kind of defeating the objective. But who wants to destroy their own creation, especially when so much thought has gone into it? So to Tracy Emin's 'Unmade bed', whose title I used in a play about an art teacher in the 1960s working in Rhondda. Not that far from Tracy's concept and expression of a weekend in her wretched life in 1998. She was already an established artist, part of Blair's Brit Art movement nurtured by Charles Saatchi, and that helped her work gain credibility- and a market. It wasn't work you could put on your wall at home though, was it? Although it did make us look at our own unmade beds differently - could you make money from your own life detritus?
Onwards and upwards. The question marched through the dangerous mountainous and white water terrain of issues: globalisation, national identity, gender, technology, the environment, shock and awe. Are any subjects taboo for the question,'But is it art?' In 1997 Saatchi lent his collection to the Royal Academy in an exhibition entitled, 'Sensation'. Marcus Harvey's piece, 'Myra Hindley'; a huge painting of her police mug-shot created from tiny hand prints of children, seemed to set the limit in the public eye of how far an artist could go in being creative and earn a living. Or some pimp curator or art dealer to make a profit.
So in thinking about the art shows we'd seen in London this week: David Hockney, Grayson Perry, David Shrigley, Jeremy Deller, Adrian Wisniewski, Chihuly, et al in Cork St, community artists mapping the changes on Hackney life of the forthcoming Olympics, and performances: Lorca's' House of Bernarda Alba', set in Iran, and Sofi Oksannen's' Purge', set in Soviet occupied Estonia in the 1950s. All can be described as Art. What's the criteria then, the yardstick to use in critiquing contemporary art to know if what you're seeing is excellent, good, bad, or just the Emperor's new clothes? Can we rely on the judgement of the curator or media reviewer to be our enlightened guide?
Grayson Perry in his quirky exhibition at the British Museum, 'The Tomb of the Unknown Craftsman', tells us at the beginning not to look for meaning there. Yet it is art full of meaning and self expression. And ideas. I felt changed by the experience. This is his summing up.
'Craftsmanship is often equated with precision. I feel it is more important to have a long and sympathetic relationship with materials. A relaxed humble, ever curious love of stuff is central to my idea of being an artist. An important quality of great art of the past was the pure skill in the artist's use of materials. In celebrating craftsmanship, I also salute artists, well most of them.'
Artists looked for different subject matter-the challenge was to create something that a photograph couldn't. We journeyed superficially through Impressionism, Post Impressionism, Expressionism, Cubism and made a pit stop in 1910 with Marcel Duchamp, who she dubbed 'The Godfather of Conceptual Art'. He placed 'found objects' in galleries to shock the establishment and challenge their perception of what is art. His 'Fountain'(a urinal) being one of his found pieces, possibly pulled off the wall of the gallery's toilet wall or one waiting to be found in a builder's yard. The craft of making was less important than the idea behind it, which presumably was his need to pee while waiting for visitors to his launch.
Then the Surrealists took the question forward, reversing our expectations and incorporating their dreams and fantasies. Art becomes more of a puzzle. Merit Oppenheim's tea cup, saucer and spoon created in animal fur-made for a rabbit to drink from, perhaps? Frida Kahlo, my favourite painter took up the challenge and expressed what it was like to be her- a Mexican woman, who'd had a series of mishaps in her life-a terrible accident, several miscarriages and not least, a passionate painful marriage to Diego Rivera.
The baton was passed to Jackson Pollock, an Abstract Expressionist, with a love of swirling and dancing while throwing paint at a canvas. So although those paintings look random . .. He passed the question onto the Pop Artists, who used everyday images from the media, who passed it on to the Fluxus Movement, performance artists who used their own bodies and invited others to take part in the action. Yoko Ono invited John Lennon into her gallery to walk up a ladder and read a tiny message on the ceiling, that said,'Yes'. The rest is art history. Joseph Beuys felt strongly about the Vietnam war and locked himself and a Coyote dog in a room in New York for three days. Nobody asked the dog and there were no disclaimers.
They threw the question over to Arte Povera, who used their own blood, sweat and tears, displayed in plastic to express their political ideology. The question transformed itself into, 'Does art have to be permanent?' Artists built installations that could be site specific or be recreated easily somewhere else. They consist of multi-art forms and use technology. So called ephemeral pieces were usually filmed, kind of defeating the objective. But who wants to destroy their own creation, especially when so much thought has gone into it? So to Tracy Emin's 'Unmade bed', whose title I used in a play about an art teacher in the 1960s working in Rhondda. Not that far from Tracy's concept and expression of a weekend in her wretched life in 1998. She was already an established artist, part of Blair's Brit Art movement nurtured by Charles Saatchi, and that helped her work gain credibility- and a market. It wasn't work you could put on your wall at home though, was it? Although it did make us look at our own unmade beds differently - could you make money from your own life detritus?
Onwards and upwards. The question marched through the dangerous mountainous and white water terrain of issues: globalisation, national identity, gender, technology, the environment, shock and awe. Are any subjects taboo for the question,'But is it art?' In 1997 Saatchi lent his collection to the Royal Academy in an exhibition entitled, 'Sensation'. Marcus Harvey's piece, 'Myra Hindley'; a huge painting of her police mug-shot created from tiny hand prints of children, seemed to set the limit in the public eye of how far an artist could go in being creative and earn a living. Or some pimp curator or art dealer to make a profit.
So in thinking about the art shows we'd seen in London this week: David Hockney, Grayson Perry, David Shrigley, Jeremy Deller, Adrian Wisniewski, Chihuly, et al in Cork St, community artists mapping the changes on Hackney life of the forthcoming Olympics, and performances: Lorca's' House of Bernarda Alba', set in Iran, and Sofi Oksannen's' Purge', set in Soviet occupied Estonia in the 1950s. All can be described as Art. What's the criteria then, the yardstick to use in critiquing contemporary art to know if what you're seeing is excellent, good, bad, or just the Emperor's new clothes? Can we rely on the judgement of the curator or media reviewer to be our enlightened guide?
Grayson Perry in his quirky exhibition at the British Museum, 'The Tomb of the Unknown Craftsman', tells us at the beginning not to look for meaning there. Yet it is art full of meaning and self expression. And ideas. I felt changed by the experience. This is his summing up.
'Craftsmanship is often equated with precision. I feel it is more important to have a long and sympathetic relationship with materials. A relaxed humble, ever curious love of stuff is central to my idea of being an artist. An important quality of great art of the past was the pure skill in the artist's use of materials. In celebrating craftsmanship, I also salute artists, well most of them.'
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