What a dilemma Saturday was, staying in for what appeared to be the most outrageous night of Eurovision for several years, or make way for the windy battered, darkened corner of Llanishen Village Hall? In the end, my enduring love and passion for all forms of intangible cultural heritage meant I braved the storm, passed on the opportunity to watch Conchita enrage Russian authorities, and enjoyed what turned out to be one of the most compelling nights of storytelling that I have enjoyed in a very long time. Over the weekend was staged an utterly compelling performance of ‘Hunting the Giants Daughter’. This was an interpretation of the tale of Culhwch and Olwen, of Mabinogi fame, a marvellous story of heroism, boar hunting and, what I maintain is utterly unnecessary but repeated decapitations of giants – as stories go, this one has never been lacking in a sense of the fantastic. In many respects however, the actual story was somewhat peripheral to the sense of occasion, as performance group Adverse Camber delivered such an engaging evening, that they really could have been talking about anything, such was the power of their delivery. Adverse Camber specialise in the delivery of new approaches to storytelling, yet their approach is one which taps into the essence of a historical form of delivery, which echoes how we might imagine such tales to have been delivered before their committal to vellum. Combining animated oral delivery, song and musical instruments, Adverse Camber deliver an interpretation which is ultimately far more complex than appearances suggest. Michael Harvey’s oratory skills and memory capacity are repeatedly tested, as the lists which dominate much of the story were delivered in intricate detail and unwavering energy. Coupled with Lynne Denman and Stacey Blythe, Culhwch and Olwen was brought to life in a way in which I have not before had the pleasure to enjoy. From a personal perspective, to see Welsh intangible cultural heritage performed to an engaged audience, especially one so far toward the eastern boundary of Wales, is truly inspiring. The tales of the Mabinogi are not known as well as they should be. Lecturing this year to undergraduate History students, I was dismayed to find that nearly none in the class had any familiarity with these stories – and quickly set about writing a new class specifically to introduce this material. At the same time, to see an individual captivate a crowd with a story, is something that is very rare indeed, yet in Welsh tradition, such a delivery would have once been common place. All sorts of intangible traditions have been lost in Wales, but this art of storytelling is slowly been brought back to contemporary audiences by the impressive efforts of Adverse Camber. An important component in the evening’s entertainment though, was the organisational role played by the Arts Council for Wales, through their Night Out scheme. The programme looks to support rural communities in the hosting of professional performances, the likes of which would usually prove prohibitively expensive to pursue. Night Out supports communities by covering the majority of the costs of the performers, leaving communities to focus on a minimum numbers of ticket sales to cover the comparatively manageable overheads for an event. Without Night Out, Llanishen in Monmouthshire would never have been able to afford the talents provided by Adverse Camber. The importance therefore, of such organisations in making it plausible for communities to host such occasions, is arguably as important as the events themselves. Certainly, Adverse Camber are worth the cost, with or without assistance, and if you have the opportunity to catch their unique, but historically familiar approach to storytelling, I would thoroughly recommend it. Sadly fewer and fewer people in Wales have any knowledge of the stories of the Mabinogi. One viewing of Adverse Camber will leave a lasting memory, which will go some way to ensuring the long term viability of these tales in a contemporary Welsh context.
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Pleased to say that my new short piece on the contemporary role of the Mari Lwyd tradition in Wales, was today published in the Wales Arts Review. I'd been itching to produce a wider access piece on the Mari and intangible cultural heritage for some time, so it's great that this is now out for wider dissemination. This article will serve as a jumping off point for a more in-depth academic publication on the subject, hopefully for later this year.
Article opening: Once a year, the border town of Chepstow plays host to one of the more unusual scenes in the Welsh cultural calendar. Congregations of Border Morris dancers are certainly not unfamiliar to these parts of Wales, where the contested nature of regional identity is played out through what appears to be a far more aggressive, almost hostile variety of the folk dance, but the gathering of a herd of Mari Lwyds is perhaps somewhat more unusual. Yet, the so called ‘ancient’ tradition of the Mari Lwyd has found a unique gathering point in the south east, where the revival of this intangible form of heritage is at its most visible. While the idea of intangible cultural heritage is not formally recognised in the British Isles, there is no shortage of examples to be found in varying states of health. The Mari Lwyd is just one of a variety of such heritage types, defined by the fact that these are living, changing and participatory traditions. In terms of the performing arts, any of those to be displayed on the stage at a local or national Eisteddfod would fall into the criteria of intangible heritage. While the likes of clog dancing, cerdd dant and even the male voice choral tradition might all be considered ageing stereotypes, they nonetheless remain an important element of a particular aesthetic vision of Wales. Sadly though, there are few such heritage types which are not in some form of deterioration. Even male voice choirs, seen as being such a robust, near permanent element of the exported vision of Wales, are in a gradual state of submission, as ageing participants struggle to find the next generation to fill diminishing ranks. It is in this climate of decline that the ongoing resurgence of the Mari Lwyd is so significant. Please find the complete article at this link, and do take the time to explore the rest of Wales Arts Review, Issue 3.2. The Llanfihangel Tor y Mynydd Mari Lwyd has been running for well over a decade now, and has only once before faced cancellation, thanks to the remarkable snow that settled a few years ago. Well, over the years the Mari in Llanfihangel grew and grew, becoming too large for the rural houses which once hosted the old mare, with only the local pub being capable of hosting this vast cultural event. Well, in 2014, the pub, which was supposed to be open, is in fact now due to be closed for refurbishment – for shame. As a result, with no time to reorganise, the Llanfihangel Mari will not be venturing forth in the parish for only the second time since 1998. However, this leaves me in an awkward situation, where I have a Mari Lwyd loitering in the entrance of my house in Caerleon. It seems a waste, having a Mari Lwyd at hand, to not then make use of it. So, if anyone is interested, I’m tempted on taking the Llanfihangel Mari out for a wonder in Caerleon on the evening of the 6th of January. In another spectacular moment of poor timing, I’m on a pre wedding, no booze, health drive (more to do with saving money for the wedding than actually being healthy for it), so the pubs I intend to visit will not be appreciated as fully as they might be usually, but if anyone fancies coming along, do feel free to drink heartily on my behalf. Fingers crossed the Llanfihangel Mari will at least be able to stretch its legs this year, before a triumphant return to form in 2015! Do drop me a line though if you fancy helping the Mari find her way around Caerleon! It’s my favourite time of year, and it has nothing to do with the tasteless rash of highly premature fake Christmas trees which seem to be popping up. This week has seen the coming together of the Intergovernmental Committee for the Safeguarding of the Intangible Cultural Heritage, as they pass judgement on those examples of intangible cultural heritage to be put forward for inclusion on the World Heritage equivalent list, for living cultural heritage. As an unashamed enthusiast for, and promoter of intangible cultural heritage, the December window in which new entries to the list are made, is of increasing significance. This is the one point in the year when international media coverage, briefly, but consistently, talks about intangible heritage. The rest of the year, these significant cultural contributors tend to be overlooked, dismissed or mocked by those same media outlets, but for this week only, newspapers and broadcasters play their part in spreading the message that these cultural traditions are important, vulnerable and well worth safeguarding. While this period is important in terms of raising the profile of intangible heritage globally, on a personal level, new entries to the list make for a wonderful learning opportunity. Being introduced to so many examples of distinctive, frequently unique cultural traditions, in such a short space of time, is an overload of opportunities to learn about global societies. In the past I have lost many an hour listening to the music of the Tsuur, trying to replicate the sounds produced by this distinctive, ethereal performance. Today I had the pleasure of exploring a raft of new (to me) traditions. In many instances, the examples that I’ve been introduced to by the Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity are ones that I have some familiarity with. Shrimp fishing on horseback in Oostduinkerke is one such example that I had been aware of, but had largely forgotten about. The listing process provides an international platform for such practices to become well known once more, and through greater knowledge and, we might hope, understanding, the potential increases for these traditions to be safeguarded for future generations, rather than simply fall out of practice and become forgotten. On another horse theme, the Karabakh horse-riding tradition in Azerbaijan is one such entry to the list this year, to be in danger of just such a fate. Potentially described as a nomadic precursor to polo, this sport once held a significant role in identity creation among participatory communities, but, as with so many traditions to be placed on the List of Intangible Cultural Heritage in Need of Urgent Safeguarding, a disconnected youth and changing lifestyles has seen this tradition verge on vanishing. That which becomes included on these lists are as equally fascinating as they are vulnerable, and UNESCO should once again be applauded for their ongoing work in this field. While these inclusions should indeed be celebrated, it is interesting to note that there is currently a campaign gathering momentum regarding the UK’s ratification of the UNESCO convention on intangible cultural heritage. Currently no comparable examples in a British context will ever be included on these lists, due to ongoing reticence, or just simple disregard from British government officials for this form of heritage. Intangible heritage is however alive and, in some instance, doing well in Britain. Formal recognition of British intangible cultural heritage is though long overdue, and if we consider the living traditions of these islands to be of importance, the UK government must be pressured into acting now, before our intangible spectrum finds itself in urgent need of safeguarding, if that is not already the case. Just a quick one here to say that the new article on 'Intangible Cultural Heritage in Wales: A Need for Safeguarding?' is now available. It can be accessed either via my academia page or at the International Journal of Intangible Heritage site. This explores examples of intangible cultural heritage in Wales, and questions why this fragile form of heritage would benefit from UK ratification of the 2003 UNESCO convention.
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