With their long socks, hats, white handkerchiefs and bells tied to their shins, Morris dancers have long been figures of fun in England — but a new generation is fighting back.
England’s traditional folk dancing is thought to date back to at least the 14th century, although nobody quite knows where it originated, other than that it has been danced for hundreds of years by working men trying to earn a bit of extra cash.
The future of Morris was cast into doubt earlier this year when one of its senior officials warned it risks becoming “extinct” within 20 years because young people are too embarrassed to take part.
“There is no doubt some sides will die, and have died, because the youngsters haven’t been encouraged to come in,” Charlie Corcoran, the bagman (secretary) of the Morris Ring dance association, said.
But at a Morris festival in Nottingham, central England, last month, most dancers rejected this, arguing that while young people may not be dancing the traditional styles, they are reinterpreting Morris for the 21st century.
The Boggart’s Breakfast troupe, from Sheffield in northern England, are far from the stereotype of the bearded, middle-age men in white socks, both in appearance and the way they add modern twists and turns to the usual set-piece dances with sticks.
Although they wear the rag jackets of the Border dance style, which hails from the counties bordering Wales, these are black with blue and silver sequins, topped off with black trousers and top hats and bright blue painted faces.
“We formed with the intention of pushing the boundaries a little — we do a lot of fusion stuff, we use a lot of non-traditional tunes,” says Grace Jackson, 34, who is originally from the US state of Vermont.
She said there was “not a chance” Morris was dying out, but admitted that dances with handkerchiefs were “a bit girly” and said it was vital to have groups who were “making it new and making it something for this generation.”
Morris, usually danced by sets of four or six people, has long been a part of rural life across England, taking on regional variations.
Mill workers in the northwest danced in their work clogs, while coal miners in the northeast took the swords they used to scrape the mud off pit ponies to create intricate woven patterns in “Rapper” or “long sword” dances.
Many of the dances were written down for the first time in the early 20th century by music teacher Cecil Sharp, sparking a revival.
Nowadays, most of England’s estimated 14,000 Morris dancers perform more than one style, to the music of either a single melodeon, a fiddle or a band.
It is no longer a male-only culture, and mixed sides are a common sight.
The Lord Conyers Morris Men have been dancing for 35 years, but member John Ledbury admits the all-male side once looked as if they were dying out.
“We went through a stage where our average age went up by one each year,” said the 62-year-old, whose troupe wear all white with brown and green baldricks (chest straps) and straw hats.
“Then there were various new generation people joining us and it brought it down with a bump, and it seems to have revitalized the dancing quite a bit.”
Many Morris officials say there are young people dancing but many are embarrassed to perform anywhere that their friends may see them.
This is less of a problem with Rapper dancing, a highly-energetic sword dance performed by five people. It involves weaving flexible swords held at each end into intricate patterns, while deploying some deft footwork.
In the 13th-century Ye Old Salutation Inn in central Nottingham, Katherine Hurdley’s troupe is young and slick. They wear dark red long shorts and shirts with black socks and belts, and dance quickly.
“It’s fun, its fast and there’s a lot of team friendships,” the 20-year-old said. Her group Triskele, from Sheffield, perform set dances but she adds: “There’s always new things you can do with it, and everyone has an input.”
Across the city, Rebecca Kell, 25, insists the tradition and community spirit is an important part of the appeal — along with keeping active and of course the drinking, given that much of Morris dancing revolves around pubs.
“We want to be proud of it, it’s English culture, but mainly its fun and there’s a big folk family around the country,” she said.
In the city center, some of Morris’ youngest devotees from Ashley’s Rise in Bristol, southwest England, performed Border dances in colorful rag jackets, bells and sticks.
Tom, 15, says Morris dancing is “just brilliant,” while 10-year-old Courtenay admitted: “I really like banging sticks together.”
But skeptical teenage onlookers suggest Morris still has a serious image problem that it needs to overcome both to survive and to fulfill its hopes of taking part in the opening ceremony for the London 2012 Olympics.
“I’m quite an eclectic dresser but I think even that’s pushing it for me,” said Daniel Joss, 16, as he eyed up the rag jackets.
“Some things are just unacceptable for people my age.”
That US assistance was a model for Taiwan’s spectacular development success was early recognized by policymakers and analysts. In a report to the US Congress for the fiscal year 1962, former President John F. Kennedy noted Taiwan’s “rapid economic growth,” was “producing a substantial net gain in living.” Kennedy had a stake in Taiwan’s achievements and the US’ official development assistance (ODA) in general: In September 1961, his entreaty to make the 1960s a “decade of development,” and an accompanying proposal for dedicated legislation to this end, had been formalized by congressional passage of the Foreign Assistance Act. Two
President William Lai’s (賴清德) March 13 national security speech marked a turning point. He signaled that the government was finally getting serious about a whole-of-society approach to defending the nation. The presidential office summarized his speech succinctly: “President Lai introduced 17 major strategies to respond to five major national security and united front threats Taiwan now faces: China’s threat to national sovereignty, its threats from infiltration and espionage activities targeting Taiwan’s military, its threats aimed at obscuring the national identity of the people of Taiwan, its threats from united front infiltration into Taiwanese society through cross-strait exchanges, and its threats from
Despite the intense sunshine, we were hardly breaking a sweat as we cruised along the flat, dedicated bike lane, well protected from the heat by a canopy of trees. The electric assist on the bikes likely made a difference, too. Far removed from the bustle and noise of the Taichung traffic, we admired the serene rural scenery, making our way over rivers, alongside rice paddies and through pear orchards. Our route for the day covered two bike paths that connect in Fengyuan District (豐原) and are best done together. The Hou-Feng Bike Path (后豐鐵馬道) runs southward from Houli District (后里) while the
March 31 to April 6 On May 13, 1950, National Taiwan University Hospital otolaryngologist Su You-peng (蘇友鵬) was summoned to the director’s office. He thought someone had complained about him practicing the violin at night, but when he entered the room, he knew something was terribly wrong. He saw several burly men who appeared to be government secret agents, and three other resident doctors: internist Hsu Chiang (許強), dermatologist Hu Pao-chen (胡寶珍) and ophthalmologist Hu Hsin-lin (胡鑫麟). They were handcuffed, herded onto two jeeps and taken to the Secrecy Bureau (保密局) for questioning. Su was still in his doctor’s robes at
RSS