In From the Cold

The Need for a New Storytelling Festival for Wales

‘Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night’, by Ceri Richards (1965)

Cold Open

My word for heaven was not yours.
The word for hell had a sharp edge
Put on it by the hand of the wind

- from the poem ‘A Welsh Testament’ by R.S. Thomas

We have a perennial problem here in Wales, one so deeply engrained in our national character it has become somewhat definitive:

self-doubt.

There’s another problem which plagues us, although this one may be more broadly applied in the context of civic engagement everywhere:

atrophy.

One feeds the other - when people don’t believe they are good enough, the good things they have are often left to rot. Further, to dream of good things that can be created stay as that - dreams.

I’m done dreaming.

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Green, Green Grass

I have been in a multitude of shapes,
Before I assumed a consistent form.
I have been a sword, narrow, variegated,
I will believe when it is apparent.
I have been a tear in the air,
I have been the dullest of stars.
I have been a word among letters,
I have been a book in the origin.
I have been the light of lanterns,
A year and a half.

- Translation of ‘Kat Godeu’ (‘The Battle of the Trees’), attributed to Taliesin

We had a storytelling festival. A good one. It was called Beyond the Border. For many years it was the jewel in the crown for storytelling in Britain, and it was held here in Wales (aptly, I’d suggest). Now, we don’t have one.

Wales needs a celebration of this part of our culture. To many, such events seem frivolous - sort of like award ceremonies for actors. But these festivals are among the only opportunities in the modern world to sample the foundational oral artform in a manner that is akin to what the ancients did. To what we’ve always done. For my country specifically, storytelling in the oral tradition was foundational for much longer. That is to say, we were later in becoming literate, and so our storytellers held a position of import well into the era of written history. The cultural landscape of Wales, though somewhat scarred of late, is still watered by the stories found in our oral tradition.

But the grass is yellowing.

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A Proposal

The artist is always beginning. Any work of art which is not a beginning, an invention, a discovery is of little worth.
― Ezra Pound

Every artform near and dear to the Welsh has a national event or exhibition space. All save one. My artform. Our most foundational.

Yes, we could occupy space at our National Eisteddfod (Wales’ foremost cultural festival), setting competitions and shows, maybe even a portion of the maes (the festival ground) just for storytelling. In fact, we should.

But we also need our own space.

Why?

Storytelling in Wales, and Welsh storytelling, is at risk of being subsumed by newer, flashier artforms. With one, bright, big extravaganza that focuses on storytelling in the oral tradition, we can begin to foster confidence in our ability to tell tales, and to host others who do the same. To be tellers, and audience. To show what we can do and what we’ve long-since made, and receive the gift of other people’s talents, and learn from them.

For Wales to grow, we need the water of life. For me, this is culture. The purest form is cultural exchange. To be an exchange entails we provide and receive. I cannot imagine a more convivial, joyous way to do so than at a festival where tales are told, from everywhere, by everyone. As we have done since humans learned to speak.

Who’s with me?

Speak up.