First Contacts- Brittany
Good morning all
Hope this finds you well and those of you in the Northern hemisphere are keeping toasty warm- I can't help thinking it would be sensible to move Christmas to the end of February- this is when we really want to close the doors from the world outside, and all those snowscape cards would make a lot more sense. However, my mind is elsewhere and deep in the planning of my autumn journey, which is just as well because researching campsites in Ireland would be a bit scary if I was focussed on the weather outside. I have heard back from most of the yarn shops in Ireland, and all seem very interested in the project and are happy to be photographed. I have made one adjustment- I couldn't find any contact details for the yarn shop in Tralee, it may well have closed down- such being the fate of so many independent yarn shops alas, so my stop on the 17th September will now be at Commodum in Dingle/ Daingean Ui Chuis.
And so, onwards to Brittany/ Bretagne/ Breizh. I leave Ireland on the afternoon ferry from Cork on 22nd September. It's a long crossing, arriving in Roscoff at 8 in the morning on the Sunday. I have never been seasick before now, but this is a part of the Atlantic that might well challenge that clean record, so I'm probably tempting fate in writing that! I have been to the port of Roscoff many times over the years; it is a much more beautiful town than you would imagine when you think of the ferry ports of Dover or Calais for example. As well as the ferries to Plymouth, Cork and Bilbao, there is also the short ferry to l'Ile de Batz, a lovely small island where horses, and not cars provide the transport. This is where I will also be leaving Brittany, onward to Spain, so all this leg of the journey will be in Western Brittany, in the French department of Finstere, which means Land's End.
This part of the world is firmly focussed on the ocean. It is a nation of sailors, with very high emigration over the last few hundreds of years. Brittany became a part of France 500 years ago, through marriage, but its relationship with France is somewhat akin to the Welsh relationship with England. The Breton language, brezhoneg, came to this part of the world with refugees from Britain, fleeing the Anglo-Saxons. It is more or less mutually intelligible with Welsh, and even more similar to Cornish, and many children there are now bilingually educated, but the language was also rather brutally suppressed by the French central government. It is in living memory that people were beaten for speaking Breton at school, and the French policy of sending young men on national service to other parts of the country intentionally suppressed many of the local languages in France. But Breton never died out, and its traditional music of bagpipes, fast basslines, call and response singing and intricate rhythms is alive and well, and bears many similarities to Irish music. Breton music events are more like multigenerational raves than what you might expect from a traditional music event- they run all night, they are often outdoors with a huge fire and as a designated cultural tradition, the police are legally barred from entry in a professional capacity, so....
I lived in this area, in the city of Brest in 1995-6. I have very fond and emotional memories from there, and still maintain a couple of friendships there. I studied French, Breton and translation there, and wrote a dissertation about the Diwan, the bilingual schools there, so I have travelled around a bit; the beautiful islands, the breathtaking coastline and the mysterious moorlands in the middle, the Monts d'Arree. I used to busk as a juggler with a group there, and hang around and sing and play music a lot with my friends Gael, Boubou and Tanguy. Gael is still a bass player in a local band and lives in Landerneau (one of the only places in the world where there is still a bridge with houses and shops built into it), Boubou is a musician in Paris, and Tanguy, alas, is no longer with us. A year after I returned to England, he jumped off a bridge. I sincerely hope that none of you reading have lost anyone close to suicide, but in this harsh world, I think that is unlikely, and if you have, you will know how it feels. I often think of this kind and wild young man I spent hundreds of days with, his wicked wit and amazing musical talent. And I miss him.
So this leg of my journey will be a revisit, to a place where I learned a lot and experienced a lot. Perhaps this is where the seeds of the idea were sown. I spent a lot of time on the Atlantic shores here, travelled a lot by boat, and noticed it was far more common for young people who left to go to Ireland, Spain or the Caribbean or La Reunion than to go to Paris. The ocean here is definitely more of a point of connection than a barrier. I will be here for just over a week- more dictated by the ferry timetables than anything else, and will take a couple of days off from visiting yarn shops and do a bit of personal pilgrimage- to the dojo where I first meditated, to lay flowers for Tanguy, and to visit Gael and his wife and kids. I am researching yarn shops and farms to buy wool, but my provisional stops will be St-Pol-de Leon (Kastel Pol), Morlaix (Montroulez), Quimper (Kemper), Brest and Landerneau (Landerne), so this week will see me translating my introductory message to places, and finalising this part.
Finally (if you are still reading, I know this has been a long one) I am starting to take pre-orders for fundraising pledges. As you know, I will be making a scarf with what I buy from every yarn shop along the way. The scarves will be sent from a place along the journey, with a personal letter to the recipient about where the yarn comes from, and my observations about the place. If you wish to pre-order now before I start in earnest next month, contact me at billyblacklondon@gmail.com. Please state your wishes for colour(s), type of yarn, length and width of scarf, and/or the part of the journey where you might like the scarf to be sent from, and also something about the interests of the person who will receive the scarf, so I can make their letter more personally tailored. The cost is more than I would usually charge for a scarf, £55 (in cash, bank transfer, paypal, cryptocurrency, however you like), but you would be investing not just in the scarf, but in this story, and you will of course be credited for your support in the final exhibition.
Anyway, I will sign off now, keep warm. Wishing you love and light
Billy xxx
Hope this finds you well and those of you in the Northern hemisphere are keeping toasty warm- I can't help thinking it would be sensible to move Christmas to the end of February- this is when we really want to close the doors from the world outside, and all those snowscape cards would make a lot more sense. However, my mind is elsewhere and deep in the planning of my autumn journey, which is just as well because researching campsites in Ireland would be a bit scary if I was focussed on the weather outside. I have heard back from most of the yarn shops in Ireland, and all seem very interested in the project and are happy to be photographed. I have made one adjustment- I couldn't find any contact details for the yarn shop in Tralee, it may well have closed down- such being the fate of so many independent yarn shops alas, so my stop on the 17th September will now be at Commodum in Dingle/ Daingean Ui Chuis.
And so, onwards to Brittany/ Bretagne/ Breizh. I leave Ireland on the afternoon ferry from Cork on 22nd September. It's a long crossing, arriving in Roscoff at 8 in the morning on the Sunday. I have never been seasick before now, but this is a part of the Atlantic that might well challenge that clean record, so I'm probably tempting fate in writing that! I have been to the port of Roscoff many times over the years; it is a much more beautiful town than you would imagine when you think of the ferry ports of Dover or Calais for example. As well as the ferries to Plymouth, Cork and Bilbao, there is also the short ferry to l'Ile de Batz, a lovely small island where horses, and not cars provide the transport. This is where I will also be leaving Brittany, onward to Spain, so all this leg of the journey will be in Western Brittany, in the French department of Finstere, which means Land's End.
This part of the world is firmly focussed on the ocean. It is a nation of sailors, with very high emigration over the last few hundreds of years. Brittany became a part of France 500 years ago, through marriage, but its relationship with France is somewhat akin to the Welsh relationship with England. The Breton language, brezhoneg, came to this part of the world with refugees from Britain, fleeing the Anglo-Saxons. It is more or less mutually intelligible with Welsh, and even more similar to Cornish, and many children there are now bilingually educated, but the language was also rather brutally suppressed by the French central government. It is in living memory that people were beaten for speaking Breton at school, and the French policy of sending young men on national service to other parts of the country intentionally suppressed many of the local languages in France. But Breton never died out, and its traditional music of bagpipes, fast basslines, call and response singing and intricate rhythms is alive and well, and bears many similarities to Irish music. Breton music events are more like multigenerational raves than what you might expect from a traditional music event- they run all night, they are often outdoors with a huge fire and as a designated cultural tradition, the police are legally barred from entry in a professional capacity, so....
I lived in this area, in the city of Brest in 1995-6. I have very fond and emotional memories from there, and still maintain a couple of friendships there. I studied French, Breton and translation there, and wrote a dissertation about the Diwan, the bilingual schools there, so I have travelled around a bit; the beautiful islands, the breathtaking coastline and the mysterious moorlands in the middle, the Monts d'Arree. I used to busk as a juggler with a group there, and hang around and sing and play music a lot with my friends Gael, Boubou and Tanguy. Gael is still a bass player in a local band and lives in Landerneau (one of the only places in the world where there is still a bridge with houses and shops built into it), Boubou is a musician in Paris, and Tanguy, alas, is no longer with us. A year after I returned to England, he jumped off a bridge. I sincerely hope that none of you reading have lost anyone close to suicide, but in this harsh world, I think that is unlikely, and if you have, you will know how it feels. I often think of this kind and wild young man I spent hundreds of days with, his wicked wit and amazing musical talent. And I miss him.
So this leg of my journey will be a revisit, to a place where I learned a lot and experienced a lot. Perhaps this is where the seeds of the idea were sown. I spent a lot of time on the Atlantic shores here, travelled a lot by boat, and noticed it was far more common for young people who left to go to Ireland, Spain or the Caribbean or La Reunion than to go to Paris. The ocean here is definitely more of a point of connection than a barrier. I will be here for just over a week- more dictated by the ferry timetables than anything else, and will take a couple of days off from visiting yarn shops and do a bit of personal pilgrimage- to the dojo where I first meditated, to lay flowers for Tanguy, and to visit Gael and his wife and kids. I am researching yarn shops and farms to buy wool, but my provisional stops will be St-Pol-de Leon (Kastel Pol), Morlaix (Montroulez), Quimper (Kemper), Brest and Landerneau (Landerne), so this week will see me translating my introductory message to places, and finalising this part.
Finally (if you are still reading, I know this has been a long one) I am starting to take pre-orders for fundraising pledges. As you know, I will be making a scarf with what I buy from every yarn shop along the way. The scarves will be sent from a place along the journey, with a personal letter to the recipient about where the yarn comes from, and my observations about the place. If you wish to pre-order now before I start in earnest next month, contact me at billyblacklondon@gmail.com. Please state your wishes for colour(s), type of yarn, length and width of scarf, and/or the part of the journey where you might like the scarf to be sent from, and also something about the interests of the person who will receive the scarf, so I can make their letter more personally tailored. The cost is more than I would usually charge for a scarf, £55 (in cash, bank transfer, paypal, cryptocurrency, however you like), but you would be investing not just in the scarf, but in this story, and you will of course be credited for your support in the final exhibition.
Anyway, I will sign off now, keep warm. Wishing you love and light
Billy xxx
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