We have just had Midsummer and the summer solstice. It always makes feel feel a bit sad that the nights will start to get darker again, after all the excitement and build up of the spring. It is hard to believe we are halfway through the year already and I feel like I have barely begun my ambitions for the year. June 20th -21st was the summer solstice. June 23rd is St John's Eve. Across Europe these occasions have traditionally been marked by dancing and singing around bonfires. There was also a tradition of performing baptisms in lakes and holy wells in honour of John the Baptist. Both of these ceremonies were intended to bring renewal and new life (and a good harvest). I am hoping to reap the rewards of these in my creative life and I hope you all have a good creative summer!
January has been occasionally beautiful with some magical winter snow but has also been cold and wet and tough with more lockdown restrictions. Now however, hope is on the horizon. While we know this is not yet the end of winter, it is perhaps, the beginning of the end of winter. February the 1st is associated with the ancient celtic festival of Imbolc – a celebration of the coming of the spring. It falls roughly midway between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. It has been the basis for celebrations and folklore in the cultures that followed. The emergence of spring is celebrated in North America with their Groundhog Festivals when the cute rodents try to predict the end of winter. We’ll probably watch the hilarious Bill Murray fantasy film Groundhog Day, again, on February 2nd. In the Christian calendar the festival of Candlemas sees the blessing of candles. This links to celebrating light. Probably the biggest Christian co-opting of this date is St Brigid’s Day. St Brigid is seen as the matron saint of Ireland. In our latest podcast we talked to Melanie Lynch of Herstory Ireland who gave us a great insight into the Brigid figure. Before being co-opted as a Christian Saint, Brigid was a pan-European goddess considered to be a bringer of light, appropriate for this time of year. Her saint’s day used to be widely celebrated with girls in every village making straw crosses. Now the day is being given a renewal with Herstory organising illumination displays to promote the stories of women in history and mythology. They are campaigning to make the day equally as important as St Patrick’s Day . Take a listen to our latest podcast episode with Melanie Lynch of Herstory Ireland. Enjoy your last weeks of winter…
Folklore and folk music are very influenced by the changing seasons but for me my cinema watching can also be affected by seasonal moods. There’s a danger that heads can be turned towards the tinselled delights of Christmas movies with the holiday just around the corner. However, would be skipping ahead and missing out on some great late autumn films. So what do we watch in the meantime? Here is a list of films which are great to watch on rainy autumn afternoons, with Christmas scenes but aren’t Christmas films: The Umbrellas of Cherbourg / Les Parapluie de Cherbourg (Demi 1964). Perfect for a rainy Autumn afternoon. Star-crossed teenage lovers, way ahead of its time in the social issues it tackles, stunning use of colour and an incredible haunting and beautiful score. A musical with no songs – just every single line of dialogue is sung. ‘Distant Voices, Still Lives’ (Davies 1988) Another rainy one. A non-linear magic-realist masterpiece. Memories fade in and out, displaced voices from the past come and go. A violent patriarch and the on-going effects on the family. Or you may be in the mood for something more light-hearted: When Harry Met Sally (Reiner 1989) Beautiful autumn colours culminating in an emotional Christmas and New Year finale. A very clever romantic comedy. Great for Autumn and New Year movie watching. ‘Groundhog Day’ (Ramis 1994) A Christmas film that isn’t a Christmas film so great to watch from November through to February. A great low fantasy concept. What are your favourite autumn films? Let us know.
A look at late Autumn customs and childhood memories of them. Halloween, Bonfire Night and begging!
Conkers and the Jellyman All these autumn woodland walks I’ve been doing recently have made me think back to autumn as a child. It takes me back to trekking through the woods conker picking and hoping to avoid being shot by the infamous ‘Jellyman’. Many of our 1990s childhood games had a folk horror element This story isn’t really about the game but for those not familiar with it, it might be good to know why conker picking was so important, why we were willing to risk a run in with ‘The Jellyman’ to get them. Conkers is such a great part of childhood folklore in Britain. A conker (horse chestnut seed) is pierced with a hole and then threaded with string, or shoelace. Players take turns, using their conker to bash the other player’s conker like a wrecking ball with the aim of smashing it. The last conker remaining is the winner. There are all sorts of folk remedies about how to harden conkers including soaking them in vinegar, putting them in the cupboard for a year, and the ultimate cheat…covering them in nail polish As a kid in early 90s Northumberland we had extra rules – which were always ignored. There was the ‘Nae yanksees’ rule (supposed to prevent a tug of war if the strings became tangled) and ‘Nae stampsies’. This was also ignored, meaning that if a conker was dropped on the floor a whole hoard of kids would stamp up and down on it to smash it. I have to admit I was never much good at the game. For me, the fun was in the adventures to go and collect the conkers. Conker Picki ng My Uncle would always take myself, my cousin and our mates conker picking. And he took it quite seriously. He once got in an argument with a vicar who claimed he was ‘destroying God’s creations’. He knew the best place to get conkers. This meant trespassing into the grounds of a nearby mansion house. We would creep through the woods to seek out these three magical conker trees. We loved collecting our hundreds of conkers – but was always blighted with fear of The Jellyman. Supposedly The Jellyman was an old gamekeeper of the hall. Seemingly he was solely employed to stop children poaching conkers. He had a stun-gun known as ‘The Jellygun’ which he would shoot you with, turning your legs to jelly and stopping you from running away before you were caught by the police, or maybe a rabid pack of dogs. I never saw him mind. My Uncle was good at spotting him- then shouting ‘Run – The Jellyman!’ and we would sprint away terrified. Every year. Learning to see through my uncle’s bullshit was a major part of my childhood. Then came the walk home, through the woods, in the dark. We would glance over our shoulders, wondering if the Jellyman had left his territory to follow us. My Uncle always claimed the streets were more dangerous and there was nothing to be scared of walking in the woods in the dark. I think that was because actually the scariest thing in the woods - was my Uncle.
Over the past month here at DreamSwarm we have been indulging my love of selkies and that looks set to continue! We have recorded a podcast interview with Uisdean Murray – director of ‘Mara: The Seal Wife’ short film about selkies ( listen to it here ). We will continue to be promoting and celebrating great writing, artwork and films about selkies for others to enjoy. We’ll also investigate the darker side of selkie tales. We’ll look at different readings of the stories and what messages they contain. Why do I like selkies? I have loved seals as animals since I was a child growing up on the Northumberland coast, where Europe’s largest grey seal community lives on the Farne Islands. Northumberland shares many cultural aspects with Scotland, and Ireland, but despite this, and the large number of seals who live here, we do not have any ‘native’ selkie tales. Never-the-less, the folklore fans among us often gravitate to these stories. Why shouldn’t the Geordie seals be selkies too?
Autumn equinox - saying goodbye to the summer and facing new directions to spark creativity and celebrate the autumn and fall.
