Dechreuodd 2018 gyda chyfle unigryw a chyffrous, wrth i mi gytuno i gyd-weithio gyda thîm creadigol i gydlynnu rhifyn aml-gyfrwng arbennig o New Welsh Review. Fy mhrif gyfrifoldebau, yn unol â chyfarwyddiadau’r golygydd Gwen Davies, oedd trefnu a chynhyrchu cynnwys, gan hefyd fentro o flaen y meic a’r camera i adolygu nofel a chyfweld awdur.
Gyda Mayoorhan Sevverlz yn cyfarwyddo ac yn golygu, roeddem yn gyfriol am greu adolygiadau clywedol, cynnal cyfweliad gyda’r awdur a’r darlithydd Jerry Hunter ym Mhrifysgol Bangor, trefnu podlediad gyda chyfrannwyr yn trafod llyfrau yn ymdrin â geirfa natur, a recordio detholiad o waith Mihangel Morgan a’i gyfosod gyda delwedd wedi’i animeiddio gan Michael Reynolds.
Cefais gyfle i fierinio fy sgiliau adolygu a defnyddio fy sgiliau ymchwilio mewn cyd-destun gwahanol, a dysgu sut i greu cynnwys aml-gyfrwng – rhywbeth sy’n fwyfwy pwysig i awdur creadigol yn yr oes ddigidol sydd ohoni. Mi fydd y deunydd yn cael ei ryddhau drwy wefan New Welsh Review yn y dyfodol agos ac rwy’n edrych ymlaen yn arw bellach at rannu ffrwyth llafur y cyfnod hynod fuddiol hwn.
2018 presented itself with a unique and interesting opportunity. This January was spent busy working as part of the team creating the New Welsh Review’s annual mutlimedia issue. My main responsibility was to comply to the programme provided by the editor, Gwen Davies, and produce the content and assist the director and editor, Mayoorhan Sevverlz. I also had the chance to head behind the microphone and in front of the camera to present some pieces, and thoroughly enjoyed the experience.
The placement included: heading to the studio to record audio reviews and a ‘Disappearing Nature’ themed podcast, an adventure to Bangor University to interview with author and academic Jerry Hunter, and working on editing an animated interpretation (image by Michael Reynolds) of a piece by Mihangel Morgan.
Without a doubt, this work experience has been fantastic in relation to honing the skills I had learnt as a freelance reviewer and writer and as one of the editors of Y Stamp and learning new skills relating to creating multimedia content – something increasingly relevant to all writers in this digital age.
This October, the world seems to have visited Aberystwyth, with two multi-language performances, both with Welsh an integral part of them, appearing. Following their rehearsal period in Aberystwyth Arts Centre, Theatr Genedlaethol and Teatr Piba’s Merch yr Eog / Merc’h an Eog (The Salmon’s Daughter) began it’s tour of Wales, England and Brittany, whilst A Good Clean Heart, Neontopia‘s first full length production, is drawing to the end of it’s tour of Wales.
Although it might not look as if either have anything in common at first glance, we see both Merch yr Eog and AGCH placing the Welsh language in a multi-cultural context. Despite modern and global ideas, Merch yr Eog / Merc’h an Eog – which I saw on its second night in Aberystwyth, on the 6th of October – has a mythical dimension, with its dramatic climax appearing in the unlikely guise of a neighbour presenting protagonist Mair (played by Lleuwen Steffan) with a salmon as a gift. The title is a play on words, with ‘eog’ (salmon) and ‘euog’ (guilty), both similar words in Welsh, and the play, based on original work by Owen Martell and Aziliz Bourges, presents Mair’s conundrum, faced with selling the family farm in Wales from her privilaged position in Brittany with her lover, Loeiza (Loeiza Beauvir).
On stage, a striking rock, which transforms into a cave-like bedroom at a later stage in the play, is the nucleus, placed on a bed of sand. As each character leaves his or her mark on Mair’s troubled psyche, they circle this rock, under the subtle direction of Sara Lloyd and Thomas Cleroac. The play wizzes from a funeral tea in rural Wales to a luxurious spa in Brittany, and the subtle differences between the two countries and cultures, the two companies and both directors, emphasises Mair’s situation, torn between two homes. Despite this, some scenes – the dream sequences, for example – seem slightly out of place, and don’t flow as seemlessly as they should. They inturrupt the honest and heart-felt communications between Mair and her family, and they could easily be cut, or perhaps better integrated with the rest of the events.
There has also been complaints regarding Sibrwd; that the technology didn’t work as it should. It has to be said, watching the audience, at the beginning of the play, switching on their phones rather than switching them off, was a strange experience. However, I personally enjoyed listening to the Breton dialogue on stage with one ear – and listening out for words similar to Welsh ones – whilst being kept informed by Sibrwd in the other. However, some of the queues were a little off, and some inturrpted others, but I’m guessing – and do hope – that these were merely teething problems.
The bilingual tensions in A Good Clean Heart derive from Hefin, a teenager adopted as a child by Welsh-speaking middle class parents, who ventures to London to meet his biological brother, Jay, for the very first time, questioning his comfortable upbringing along the way. Following many five star reviews and a successful run during the Edinburgh Fringe, I had been excited to see this play for a while, and went along to Arad Goch, in Aberystwyth, on the 13th of October to watch the play.
Subtitles – perhaps now old fashioned! – were used during the play, but blended in to the bus-stop that was the main focus of the set. Also in the well-fashioned bus stop was a subtly placed screen, used to project images and dialogue throught the play. Interestingly, Neontopia opted to translate the English dialogue into Welsh too, in what some would argue was a pointless move. What became apparent, by peeping at the subtitles from time to time, was that subtle differences in translation highlighted Neontopia’s aim as a company. Both director Mared Swain and playwright Alun Saunders see ample opportunity to play with and analyze the bilingual aspect of Welsh life; studying two languages, but one existence for Hefin.
The play begins with striking choreography, and the movement continues so throught AGCH, with one comical ‘getaway’ scene in particular springing to mind. Although only two actors, Oliver Wellington and James Ifan, remain on stage throughout, they also turn efficiently to portray their mother and her partner. I was charmed by the humour of the play in particular, despite the situation being tinged with sadness. A young Jay’s heartfelt letter to his brother is a particularly poignient moment, almost bringing a tear to one’s eye. Unexpected twists and turns are piled up during the performance, and in the hands of a less-abled playwright, they could have been slightly OTT. However, it became clear that the audience remained on the edge of their seats throughout, unaware of the many surprises of Jay and Hefin’s story.
One aspect of both plays which I thoroughly enjoyed was the use of technology – and not as an audience member reliant on it – but of its use on stage. Hefin and Jay used Facebook chat on stage, both reading and displaying their messages to each other, and it didn’t feel forced or, for want of a better word, naff. Merch yr Eog in particular excelled with it’s use of Mair’s Skype conversations with her brother Rhys (Dyfan Dwyfor). Rhys’ images was projected on screen, but fragmented, his voice often dissappearing with the attrocious connection. Highlighted is the geographical and emotional distance between the two siblings.
This past month in Aberystwyth, the stage seems to be an appropriate space to explore Welsh’s relationship with the world. Without a doubt, there is further scope to do so, and it’s an interesting step forward for Welsh-language theatre.
This poem was first published in Aberystwyth English Department’s MA Anthology, ‘A Grain of Sand’, in May 2016.
[Cyhoeddwyd y gerdd hon yn ‘A Grain of Sand’, cyfrol diwedd blwyddyn yr Adran Saesneg yn Aberystwyth, yn Mai 2016.]
Falling in Love All Wrong
Mae ‘na frân i bob brân yn rhyw le. 
Somebody managed to fall in love with Hitler
In Pier Pressure,
on a Saturday night,
it’s easy to pretend
that the beach is golden
and soft underfoot,
and in the 1940s,
wherever they went to get drunk,
that young girl was there, shot down by Sambuca,
and thought that suddenly
his manicured moustache
and the way he demanded that Pepsi
just wasn’t good enough
was exactly what she needed.
Sensing he earned good money
keeping his hands clean
and conscience filthy
she decided that
they were going to fall in love.
Outside Pier Pressure,
on a Sunday morning,
it’s impossible to deny,
that the beach is nothing
but ugly grey pebbles,
sharp dangerous sticks,
Her hangover hovers,
and she’s stuck with
that will never last.
Literally translates ‘Crow for every crow’, implies that there’s someone for everyone out there.
I accepted a kind invite to write a 20 minute play for my friend, aspiring director Carys Jones, who with her new company, ITCH, was part of The Other Room Theatre (based in Porter’s, Cardiff) and their Blue Sky Festival. She and actors Naomi Underwood and Huw Blainey had discussed wanting to explore feminist themes, and I was given a title ‘The F Word’ to work with.
My play dealt with many sensitive F Words – … – and was the result of a post-date rendezvous (or lack of it!) between a fiesty feminist and an OCD Welsh man.
Despite a challenging post-performance Q&A sesion, we recieved positive feedback from the audience, and were all pleased that everyone had enjoyed. Carys did great work with my script – I loved the direction she took the two characters – considering what little time we all had to work on it.
We were also reviewed by Arts Scene in Wales, who were very, very kind! Read the review here.
Cefais gyfle i ysgrifennu sgript ar gyfer cynhyrchiad fy ffrind Carys Jones, a oedd yn rhan o ‘Blue Sky Festival’, a drefnwyd gan theatr dafarn The Other Room. Roedd hi, Naomi Underwood a Huw Blainey eisoes wedi trafod eu bod am ymdrin â ffeministiaeth – o dan y teitl ‘The F Word’ – fel rhan o’u perfformiad, felly es ati i greu sgript yn seiliedig ar y syniadau hynny.
Er i ni gael sesiwn Holi ac Ateb heriol ar ôl y cynhyrchiad, roedd yr ymateb ar y cyfan yn ffafriol, yn enwedig a ninnau’n gwmni newydd sbon wedi mynd at i greu’r cynhyrchiad mewn cyfnod o amser byr iawn. Cawsom adolygiad cadarnhaol gan wefan Arts Scene in Wales, sydd ar gael i’w ddarllen yma.
On the 12th of October, Branwen Davies contacted asking if I’d be interested in joining a workshop Dirty Protest – a theatre comapny working to promote new writing. I agreed, despite having neglected my creative writing for quite a while, and was incredibly glad I did!
Not only did I get to meet local writers in Aberystwyth – something I need to make more of an effort to do! – I was also, as was everyone else, challenged to write a 3 minute play in 3 hours. It sounds a lot easier than it is!
The plays were then going to be performed in the evening – which was amazing, and it was one of the first times I’d ever seen my work properly performed.
I decided to try something new and experiment with both languages, introducing a lonely Welsh man, Owain, who buys himself the monolingual robot, Robo720X.
I hope that I’ll get another chance to work on Owain’s story, and hope he does find a way, one day, to ‘siarad shit’ with his robot!
Ar y 12fed o Hydref derbyniais wahoddiad i fynychu gweithdy sgriptio gyda chriw Dirty Protest. Roedd hi’n braf gael cymysgu gydag awduron eraill – rhywbeth sydd wir angen i mi wneud yn amlach! – ynghyd a ymestyn yr hen fysyls sgrifennu, a oedd wedi bod yn segur ers llawer yn rhy hir!
Yr her oedd cynhyrchu drama fer 3 munud o hyd mewn 3 awr – tasg llawer anoddach na’r disgwyl!
Penderfynais drio rywbeth newydd a bwrw ati i lunio drama ddwyieithog, gyda Chymro unig yn prynu robot yn ffrind iddo’i hun, ond yn methu ei raglenni i siarad Cymraeg. Wrth reswm, roedd yna dipyn o rwystredigaeth ar ran Owain, y dyn a oedd eisiau sgwrs gall yn Gymraeg gyda’i robot!
Gobeithiaf gael gweithio eto ar y pwt o ddrama hon, ac ymestyn stori Owain rhywbryd yn y dyfodol.
This piece of flash fiction was published on Paragraph Planet, 17 July 2015.
Cyhoeddwyd y darn ar wefan Paragraph Planet, 17 Gorffennaf 2015.
The only evidence of Alice’s fifteen minutes of fame was now wrapped around her fish and chips. Stunned, she had forgotten those kind words written about her when she’d been crowned carnival queen three years previously. The newspaper pictures showed a Size-10, pre-baby Alice that she herself didn’t recognize, and as the grease seeped through the paper, she watched the photograph morph into a monster; the frumpy Mummy-Alice that had changed some time ago.