Storytellers compete for £10,000 prize money from the Arts Foundation

The Arts Foundation recently showcased their shortlist of four storytellers from across the UK at London’s Barbican arts centre for one of the largest awards for storytelling in the UK. Their £10,000 award was made late in January, 2009. As the judges deliberate behind closed doors, veteran storytelling promoter, Adrian Johnson, enjoys the show, comments on the eventual winner and considers the way live literature and spoken word artists are heading after a decade of major financial support for UK storytellers, poets and authors who positively choose to speak out from the stage first and then follow up, later, with a blog, podcast or a publication on YouTube.

Catherine Aran was first up on stage in the black box theatre space of the Barbican’s pit. Boldly, Catherine enthused the healthy 200+ sized audience to sing back to her bite-sized calls and replies, in Welsh. With her curly black locks, beguiling smile and a silver tongue she reminded me of a feisty, muscular, Katherine Zeta Jones. On stage she filled the space with great vigor and also some lyrical touches as her story unfurled about all kinds of formidable, war-like and fearsome giants from Ireland and Wales. Early into her story the trademark tools and turns of the engaging storyteller were deftly displayed. Unlike actors with their scripted lines and invisible fourth wall, Cath actively acknowledged the live audience and immediately enlisted their vocal support and solidarity by encouraging them to sing with her. It’s not often tried by poets or novelists, but when it clicks into place it leaves a warm glow around the auditorium — or mild embarrassment, if like my friend, she didn’t want to join in, apart from willingly lending the storyteller her ears. The story that Cath chose to tell was as much physically striking as well as verbally dexterous. As she took on the towering gait of an angry giant, there was no doubt what the story was about. Perhaps the most distinctive aspect of Cath’s small showcase piece was the way that she skillfully told her story in seamless, alternating Welsh and English. She did this well and her vivacious skill at such bi-lingual telling brilliantly shone through and paid the first of three significant respects and nods to other language traditions from within and beyond the British-speaking Isles.

Peter Sushil Chand was next on stage. Our MC for the night, the poet Philip Wells, informed us that Pete is of Punjabi descent and that he sometimes likes his audience to Bhangra dance along the way with his stories. I look nervously to one side at my friend. We don’t especially want to dance with anything other than bright ideas, tonight. With just twenty minutes on stage to shine and entertain the audience, Peter chose to retell a selected piece from his longer show, ‘Mangoes on the beach’. Like Cath, Peter sprinkles in words and phrases from Urdu, Punjabi and Gujarati, actively acknowledging the plurality of languages and storytelling traditions to be found in his home city of Wolverhampton — as well as many other urban, post-industrial cities of the UK. Peter recalled his father in India and also the wit, wonder and wisdom of a family that carved up their small estate, and how the family cat — on fire — can unexpectedly help to decide, with accompanying howls of laughter from the audience, which share of blame and reward each brother ultimately deserves. This short piece delighted the Barbican audience and again displayed some of the core strengths of the storyteller that seeks to connect and entertain: they need to have a quick wit, awareness of the audience and a gently inspiring gem of unexpected wisdom and insight from unusual places. The ability also, at least for this author’s liking, to connect with an improvised, ‘of the moment’, adlib or humorous aside, as the main story unfolds. The excellent poet and verbal magician, Jackie Kay, shares some of these, learned-over-time storytelling skills, but many other writers appear to overlook or underappreciate these vital tools of the compelling spoken word artist. Before we know it, however, Peter walks offstage to the loud roar of applause, and the heady expectation of an entertaining second half beckons.

During the interval I notice the storyteller Ben Haggerty is in attendance; I can’t help but think how there also need to be awards for brilliant storytelling ambassadors as well as the welcome and vital bright spotlight of tonight’s event.

The Arts Foundations third storytelling contender is Katy Cawkwell, a storyteller from Norwich who has been telling stories since 1996 after being inspired by the Company of Storytellers that includes Ben Haggerty and Hugh Lupton. She is the second youngest storyteller on the short list. However, with 12 years’ experience the poet Nick Toczek’s comment comes to mind — how it took him 15 years to become an ‘overnight sensation’ with his successful pocket-money priced ‘lunchpack’ poetry series with McMillan books. On stage at the Barbican, Katy’s storytelling style is fluent, eloquent, flowing and altogether faultless. As silky as her purple and blue head scarf, she captivates the audience with beautiful, well-voiced characters and understated, but incredibly effective mannerisms that help to define her characters. Her story of a duplicitous king who takes a fancy to another man’s wife is joyous, visceral and visual. She fills the bare stage with arms aloft — puffed up with royal pride or suddenly hunched and bent down with age and the care of a beggar woman. It is a captivating story that would positively remind and delight any fans and admirers of the hugely accomplished storyteller, Hugh Lupton.

With all these great accomplishments acknowledged, I see too that Katy does not choose to draw upon the African-inspired ‘call and reply’ tradition. She also does not break down and cross — for a moment — that invisible fourth wall between the audience and the actor/storyteller. No comic asides or knowing quips form part of Katy’s formidable storytelling craft and technique. It is, of course, like saying Oasis and Amy Winehouse are musicians, Andrew Motion and Benjamin Zephaniah are poets, but each has different styles and a very different fan base. These differences of approach in the big, inclusive tent for storytelling will be among many of the stylistic issues that the judges will want to consider. The fact that it might arise is terrific. Especially if you consider the major prizes for poetry, such as the TS Eliot Prize or the Costa Book Awards, simply never reflect on spoken word artists such as Steve Tasane, Patience Agbabi and Joolz together with Seamus Heaney, Simon Armitage or Alice Oswald.

Finally, the evening came to a barn-storming and electrifying conclusion when barefoot but for brilliant red toe nails, Shonaleigh Cumbers — a storyteller from Sheffield of Yiddish descent — opens with a traditional song and chant, then smiles impishly as she retells her story of the beggar king, Solomon. His story of loss and eventual redemption is told with captivating vigor, joy and sparkling wit, caustic asides and quips to the audience that weave us into her beguiling story. Out of the black box space of the Barbican’s pit comes a colorful and well-paced narrative including cunning cooks, foolish kings, wise beggars and an eventual satisfying conclusion for an audience that laughed and gasped as much as if a Technicolor circus and trapeze act had tumbled across the stage, not a well-crafted series of wise, well-chosen words — breathed and spoken into life by four very compelling contenders for the Arts Foundations £10,000 development award.

Each of these new-wave storytellers demonstrated great skill, wisdom and stagecraft. As an art form that tends to be over looked and under appreciated I found much that could and should positively influence other poets and novelists who choose to take to the stage at festivals and libraries across the UK. To breathe out, speak up and look the audience squarely in the eye is an incredibly simple but effective approach to take on stage. The late poet, Michael Donaghy, started to do this with spectacular results, but it remains a rare experience outside storytelling and some events staged by Jonathan Davidson, Apples and Snakes, and National Poetry Day co-coordinator and poet, Jo Bell.

The four judges certainly had a very difficult decision to make and at the prize giving ceremony at Pentagram Studios in London, in January, the singer and MC for the night, Annie Lennox, enthused and recalled her penniless early days, how she — as an artist — always feels ‘like an outsider’, but most alive when she had her ‘mojo working’. And then, Annie flipped open the glittery red envelope and whispered out the winner: ‘It’s Cath Aran’, from Snowdonia in Wales.

As the whoops of joy, applause and cheers subsided, Cath thanked the giants, the gods, and everyone else who had known her since her talkative days in school to her new life as an emerging storyteller — now with promise and the money to travel beyond Wales with a new show tent and renewed excitement. As I looked round, I felt disappointment for the three other fabulous storytellers but gradually a pattern emerged from the kaleidoscope of competing ideas on why an award is finally made. £10,000 was also given to an emerging and talented song writer (Emily Baker), an Interior Architect (Simon Fujiwara), portrait artist (Veronique Rolland), and theatre director (Maria Aberg). All of them had youth and high hopes on their side, and perhaps the need for a hearty and reassuring shove along their way. I am sure Cath will inspire and entertain many more people across the UK, buoyed up with the Arts Foundation award, though I would encourage her to have the confidence to tell longer stories in just one language and shorter pieces in both Welsh and English, depending on the audience, and the beautiful sound and rhythm of a story in full and spellbinding flow.

Long before the awards I speculated on who I might choose, and thought for youth, sheer energy and commendable verbal synthesis of storytelling, in English and Welsh, I’d go for Cath Aran. And the judges did too. Enjoy her stories when she rolls into town.