‘I come from a line / of land healers, our bodies / an offering, a hook between worlds.’
We Echo, a new poetry film written and directed by me, performed and choreographed by Jodi Ann Nicholson, tells the magical story of a girl that is both human and of the natural world. She leaves the dying city she has loved to return to nature and help the land heal. Through a snapshot of her past, we learn that this is the destiny of the female lineage of her family, who are all called to return to nature by the sea through a dream of the end of the world.
The ideas behind We Echo sparked from my year-long poetry residency (2021-22) with the Future Generations Commissioner for Wales. I was tasked with creatively communicating the causes of The Future Generations Act and explored how the arts can catalyse cultural change, particularly around the climate crisis. I wrote My Magnolia Tree, a poem about the potential debilitating effects of rising sea levels in Wales. I worked with community members in Llanrwst, to write Emerging from Winter about the reality of living in a place that experiences severe flooding, which was powerfully read by local primary school children. At COP26, I performed Riverbank Guardian, a poem that I created during an event on activism and community resistance against climate change.
I learnt so much during my residency, which affirmed the deep and powerful resonance of poetry as an art form that can raise awareness, change minds and provoke. Poetry has the ability to humanise stories and create empathy in ways that facts, figures and reports cannot. I received feedback that people had become aware of issues around climate change due to the poems I created, or began to see these issues in a new light. It became clear that when it comes to getting people to engage with climate change, they have to see their stake in it and the value of nature. This could mean realising that we are of nature and cannot exist without it, and its effect on health and wellbeing.
In We Echo, I wanted to creatively explore these thoughts. The poem seeks to mythologise the connection between humans and nature through magic and dream-like imagery.
Though I have experience in creating videos of my poetry, these have usually been performing to camera. This was the first time I was fully immersing myself in the process of creating a poetry film; from concept, to creative direction and the logistics of production, to tying the ends in post. Writing is often thought of as a romantic, solitary experience; you sit at a desk alone and the words magically come to you. But in reality, my writing is enriched by the inspiration I get from collaborating with others. I knew from the very beginning that I wanted to work with a dancer, so I approached Jodi after being inspired by her work for a long time. We spent some studio time together, went on a long walk to scout locations along the coast of Llantwit Major, where the idea that had previously been vaguely running around my mind became fruitful and concrete.
We discussed the value nature had to us personally in our lives and memories. Both inspired by the intersections of mythology and nature in the legacy of Welsh goddesses such as Blodeuwedd and Cerridwen, we explored what a girl that bridges the gap between humans and the natural world would look like, feel like, move like. Our mutual excitement, passion for the story and how we could combine our practices to create something magical drove the project forward.
We Echo is driven by the presence of the sea. In the weeks before returning to nature from the city, the narrator hears it ‘toss and turn, aching.’ In a flashback to a conversation with her grandmother, we learn that the women in her family are all called to heal the land the same way, through a violent dream of the end of the world on their 16th birthday. Her grandmother tells her ‘At the last moment, when you’re about / to succumb, you’ll hear the distant / hunger of the sea. / Go to it, tend its longing, / you have something it needs.’
The sea has always been an inspiration to me, growing up in the seaside town of Barry. There’s something about its calming tranquillity, its dark mystery. Jodi and I were inspired by its constant movement; the push and pull of the tide, the flow of rippling water and how we could reflect this in the film. We decided to film along the coast of Llantwit beach, a beautiful zigzag of cliffs and coves where we could diversify the location of the film from seafront to woodland patch in a short walk.
The poem ends at the edge of a cliff, where it links back to the narrator’s grandmother in the final lines ‘I think of my grandmother, / lulled like the tide / to return to this place. / I have a photo, or a memory, / or a dream; I’m on her shoulders / at the cliff edge, leaning to the wind / and we are, we are, we are.’
In these lines I wanted to capture the emotional connection to the coast in our memories, its value throughout generations. In some ways, the world can change but the sea will remain. I can go to the beach and look at the same sea from the same spot my late great-grandparents did before I was born. I remember the times I spent with them sunbathing, eating sandwiches loaded with cheese and butter. In this way the sea is of sentimental value to me, to keep those memories alive.
I recently launched my debut poetry pamphlet, Back Teeth with Broken Sleep Books. At the launch event, held at Wales Millennium Centre, Jodi and I gave the audience a preview of We Echo with a live performance. The way that her movement enhances my words, and likewise with my words and her movement, reminded me of the inspiring work that can be created with collaboration, from the creative process to the finished outcome.
When people watch We Echo, I hope they resonate with it in some way and immerse themselves into the magic of the story. I hope it feels dark and beautiful and encourages people to think of the value of nature that surrounds them in their own life. A huge thank you to Wales Arts International for making the film happen and to my talented collaborators; Jodi Ann Nicholson, Josh Hopkin, Hannah Andrews, Nia Morais and Luna Tides Productions, who made the experience so joyful.
We Echo - Taylor Edmonds
I am returning.
The city I loved an echo,
choked on its own smoke.
Ash air, wild traffic,
glossy spines of sky-rises
that dissolve in the aftermath.
I knew I would be called
to the fleshy fields of my body.
I heard their croaks,
felt their thirst in the heat.
For weeks, I’ve listened
to the sea toss and turn, aching.
I put my ear to the black earth
and it hums back.
I pluck seeds from my scalp,
craters hardened by the sun.
When my grandmother first told me
we were different, she was brushing
back my stubborn curls in the mirror,
bobbles between her teeth for pigtails.
On your 16th birthday you will dream
the world is ending. You’ll watch
as everything sparks to flame,
and the sky turns gold with rage.
Your mother and I, my mother
and her mother too have fought
through this same dream.
At the last moment, when you’re about
to succumb, you’ll hear the distant
hunger of the sea.
Go to it, tend its longing,
you have something it needs.
I started to notice. Morning rain,
I felt the grateful soil quench,
my arms heavy with new weight.
I heard the trees strategise survival,
the low groan of roots crawling deeper.
I woke in the night to the sting
of fresh stems piercing my spine,
I coughed up dragonfly wings,
still beating, bearing for flight.
While my friends learnt to shave
new growths of leg hair
with soap and a blade,
my skin puckered under patches
of moss and lichen.
I heard their whispers in my absence;
my slimy hair, its green-tinged trail,
smell of mould, jasmine, burning.
The city, mothered by the greedy sea,
my stomach felt her gnawing.
Now I put my hand into the salt-froth
of the water. It envelopes skin
like an old friend. Caregiver,
I let it drag and fold me.
What’s left in an abandoned city?
We’ll take it back quietly,
a flowering rock, roots
capsizing pavement.
I come from a line
of land healers, our bodies
an offering, a hook between worlds.
I think of my grandmother,
lulled like the tide
to return to this place.
I have a photo, or a memory,
or a dream; I’m on her shoulders
at the cliff edge, leaning to the wind
and we are, we are, we are.