Tafwyl / Tate Modern

Every year, Cardiff hosts a festival called Tafwyl, which is a celebration of Welsh-language culture. I paid my first visit this year, but as someone with only a smattering of Cymraeg, made it easy on myself by restricting myself to the Saturday night concert. Thus, I caught some melodic indie-rock from Yr Eira, a bit of smooth electro-pop from H.M.S. Morris (whom I saw a few years ago, supporting Songhoy Blues), and most of the enjoyably anthemic set by Candelas, a band with which I was previously unfamiliar, but who obviously have a large, enthusiastic following.

Candelas at Tafwyl

The next day, I paid one of my irregular visits to London, this time to experience the inspirational Tate Modern Museum as a birthday treat. As always, the exposure to a universe of ideas expressed with love, intelligence and commitment was humbling and overwhelming. This time round, Cildo Meireles’ “Babel”, a tower made of old-fashioned radios, made a big impression; as did Yinka Shonibares’ room-sized installation “The British Library”, comprising a display of hundreds of lavishly bound books, celebrating the contribution of immigrants to this nation. The “Magic Realism” exhibition of work from Weimar Germany was also striking. The whole experience is like taking a holiday in other people’s minds. The gift-shops are also good.

London skyline seen from Tate Modern

"Cotton Fingers" / "Twelve Cabins..."

In the past couple of years, National Theatre Wales has received some criticism for their apparent reluctance to stage actual plays in actual theatres, as well as for a perception that they weren’t doing enough with the public money with which they have been entrusted. Thus, it was good to be part of a full house in the Arena at the Sherman, to see Rachel Trezise’s “Cotton Fingers”, a monologue first performed over three nights last year in West Wales as part of the company’s celebration of 70 years of the National Health Service. In it, Amy Molloy engagingly plays a young woman from West Belfast, forced to travel to Wales for the termination of an unwanted pregnancy. A much-needed reminder of continuing struggles.

 

Amy Molloy (photo: Craig Fuller)

Most recently, at Chapter, I saw “Twelve Cabins Twelve Vacancies”, a show spinning off from the fact that director/performer Chris Durnall’s father died on the same night that Alfred Hitchcock’s “Psycho” premiered on U.K television (in 1968), and the effect that this connection may have consciously or sub-consciously had on his subsequent life. Intriguing, especially for film nerds.