BLAENAU GWENT PHOTOGRAPHY SPECIAL by Sebastian Bruno

blaenau gwent photography special

Sebastian Bruno

Roy Musto outside his house, Swffryd, 2016. Roy Musto y tu allan i’w dŷ, Swffryd, 2016.

Lady holding umbrella, Tredegar, 2016. Lady dal ymbarĂŠl, Thredegar, 2016.

Kevin, Blaina, 2016. Kevin, Blaenau, 2016.

Yellow Corner, Blaina, 2016. Cornel melyn, Blaenau, 2016.

Women outside Blainaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Costitutional Club, 2016. Merched y tu allan i Glwb Cyfansoddiadol Blaenau, 2016.

Den and Gloria Hughes, Swffryd, 2016. Den a Gloria Hughes, Swffryd, 2016.

Ebenezer Chapel, Abertillery, 2016 Capel Ebenezer, Abertyleri, 2016.

Woman singing, Blaina, 2016. Gwraig ganu, Blaenau, 2016.

Rememberance Sunday. Blaina, 2016. Sul y Cofio, Blaenau, 2016.

The conversation takes place in a Constitutional Club, without a picture of Margaret Thatcher or any other Tory, somewhere in The Valleys, South Wales. Four men are sitting, drinking around a table; the landlady is behind the bar. The TV is on. A photographer has just exited the bar, onto the street outside. Man 3: Have you educated him? Man 1: He’s asking the same questions as me and you. Man 2: Yeah… Man 1: What’s happening in The Valleys? Where’s the future? Man 2: Well… it’s all dead in the valleys. innit? Man 3: There are two answers to that: nothing and no chance. Man 2: Because… like you said (Pauses for an intake of breath) they’ve taken it away abroad, cheap labour ‘n’ everything, same with the factories, same with everything else they shut down. Man 1: but, y’know, you come down here on a Sunday night, like me and you This place is full! And everybody seems to be enjoying themselves. How the hell is that? Man 2: ah but… remember years ago you used to go out every night? Thing is that they can’t afford to go out now. Man 1: ok, ok … but… Man 2: Y’know… I’m saying… if you go out now you can spend about sixty–seventy pounds when you come down ‘ere on a Sunday. Man 1: Well of course you can… Man 2: but y’know, but I do go on shorts, don’t I? And me missus drinks brandy… surprising what you do spend, like! Man 1: But then you ask the question… you know … we are suppose to be the poorest bloody… place… in bloody… Man 2: oh aye! Man 1: … United Kingdom. Poverty here … we are at the right bottom. How the hell can you come out and enjoy yourself? (Ambient sound from the TV: “absolutely”). And you know why? Cos it’s a tradition … a tricky tradition that goes way back. Started off in the chapels, a hundred and odd years ago… The community got together, right? Went to pray and then they had a good dance after it. And it just continued… They work hard all week and they go crazy on a Saturday and a Sunday night. And again, you think to yourself: Well, how can they afford to come out and have a drink and a dance? But that’s it… they’ve got to do it. They survive by doing that and that’s been the history of the valleys… you know, it’s the history of it. The people have got fight in them and to get it all out. They dance and enjoy themselves.

Man 3: Well, you’ve got to, haven’t you

Man 4: What is he taking photographs of now?

Man 2: You’ve got to…

Man 1: I don’t know… Pub door opens; the hinge squeaks audibly, landlady exits onto the street.

Man 1: of course you’ve got to Man 2: As I say I stopped in a fortnight really, then come out on a Sunday. I’m trying to pay for my carpet in the bedroom; I’ve got to have a new carpet… you know. So I pay for the carpet… you know … if I come down here I’d have to… y’ know… you gotta… Man 1: But then you’ve got to ask. The second question is: What are the youngsters doing in here? you know… Man 3: Same as we did do, drinking. Man 2: Well the same as when we was young, I used to go out every day of the week then, I did. Man 1: yes, but they can only do it once a bloody… Man 2: Bigger problem is because they are on the dole, innit? They’ve got no work.

Man 2: but my misses now has to pay 300 odd pound now.... Man 1: He’s going to take a photograph of a dead bloody street! Man 2: yeah! Man 1: that’s what he’s gonna do... (he pauses and reflects) ... and why not? Man 2: well it’s, you see Sunday… Saturday or Sunday. Man 4: you get out there and you fucking take that!!? Man 1: you can take that any time of the day… ok, ok but… the boy is doing his job.

Man 1: How can you do it on the dole?

Man 3: He’s a fucking nuisance out there this morning.

Man 3: I don’t know.

Man 1: the boy is doing his job.

Man 1: This is the question you ask, innit?

Man 2: yeah I know, aye.

Man 2: but… you think of it now, you know: the people who haven’t worked all their lives, they are better off than me, they have everything put for them, don’t they?

The pub door opens; the hinge squeaks audibly, The Landlady re-enters the room laughing her head off

Man 1: No… no! Statistics show it’s different than that. MAN 2: Ahh… but they can tell, the government do. There are people who worked all of their lives and they’ve got to pay for everything, full teeth … full full full … tax bedroom… you know… full house, full rent, full poll tax, full everything! People who haven’t worked all their lives and they’re better off than me! So, them are going around with their cars and big screen television and god knows what else. Man 1: But… statistics show that there are more people working now than there EVER have been and they are poorer now than they EVER have been. Cos it doesn’t bloody matter whether you work or not. We don’t own anything, we are not in control of our lives and, to a degree, we are stuck here… and then you think: It’s some sort of prison… in a way. Man 2: No… but then again I paid into my taxes through all the years… but then again when they are old age pensioners they are having the same, more or less, the same old pension as me and they haven’t worked all their lives.

Man 4: What are you laughing at? Landlady: He’s got Neal’s wife out by there. Man 1: Taking her photo? Landlady: Taking a photo of her coat because it looks like the brown bricks on the building. General hilarity ensues. Man 1: Poverty. Man 4: (Laughing). Fucking hell… hilarious. Landlady: If he turned‘round and said my coat looks like a brick building I’d… Man3: No wonder you came in, see! Landlady: He’s gone down the side of the fish shop. Man 3: Down the side of the fish shop? Man 2: (Pointing at Man 1, suggesting). Have a fag. Landlady: He’s got her up against the background of the window.

Man 1: Ok… fair enough.

Landlady: He’s crazy he is!

Man 2: And it ain’t fair, I don’t think, see. But like I say, it don’t make sense to me if you haven’t worked all your life and haven’t put something in the government, you should be lower on your old age pension.

Man 2: He’s left that walkie-talkie thing on the table; he’s got it turned off now... hasn’t he? Sounds of general hilarity.

Mae’r sgwrs hon yn digwydd mewn Clwb Cyfansoddiadol, heb lun o Margaret Thatcher nag unrhyw Dori arall, rywle yng Nghymoedd de Cymru. Mae pedwar dyn yn eistedd o gwmpas bord, ac yn yfed; mae’r dafarnwraig y tu ôl i’r bar. Mae ffotograffydd newydd fynd allan o’r bar i’r stryd tu fas. Dyn 3: Wyt ti ’di addysgu fe? Dyn 1: Ma’ fe’n gofyn yr un cwestiynau â ti a fi. Dyn 2: Ydi.. Dyn 1: Be’ sy’n digwydd yn y Cymoedd? Ble mae’r dyfodol? Dyn 2: Wel... ma’ popeth ’di marw yn y Cymoedd. On’d ydy? Dyn 3: Ma’ ’na ddau ateb i ’na: Dim byd a dim gobaith. Dyn 2: Achos.... fel wedest ti (mae’n oedi i dynnu anadl) maen nhw ’di mynd â fe dramor, llafur siêp a phopeth, ’r un peth â’r ffatrïoedd, ’r un peth â phopeth arall maen nhw ’di cau. Dyn 1: Ond, fel ti’n gwbod, maen nhw’n dod lawr fan hyn nos Sul, fel ti a fi. Mae’r lle ’ma’n llawn! Ac ma’ pawb i’w gweld yn joio. Sut ddiawl mae deall ‘na? Dyn 2: Ah ond... cofia, ro’t ti’n arfer mynd mas bob nos flynyddoedd yn ôl? Y gwir yw’n bod ni a nhw ‘m yn gallu fforddio mynd mas nawr. Dyn 1: Iawn, iawn... ond... Dyn 2: Ti’n gwbod... be’ dwi’n gweud yw... os wyt ti’n mynd mas nawr ti’n gallu gwario chwe deg – saith deg punt pan ti’n dod lawr fan hyn nos Sul. Dyn 1: Wel wrth gwrs ‘ny... Dyn 2: Ond ti’n gwbod, dwi yn mynd ar y siorts, on’d ydw i? Ac ma’r misus yn yfed brandi... rhyfedd faint rwyt ti’n ‘wario wedyn! Dyn 1: Ond wedyn ti’n gofyn... ti’n gwbod... Ni yw’r lle blydi tlota yn y blydi.... i fod, on’d ife... Dyn 2: O ie! Dyn 1: … Y Deyrnas Gyfunol ‘ma... ni reit ar y gwaelod..y tlota. Sut yn y byd allwch chi ddod mas a joio? (Sŵn amgylchynol y TV: “yn gwmws”). A ti’n gwybod pam? Achos taw traddodiad yw e... traddodiad cyfrwys sy’n mynd ymhell yn ôl. Dechreuodd e yn y capeli, ryw gant o flynyddoedd yn ôl... Daeth y gymuned at ei gilydd, reit? Mynd i weddïo a mynd am ddawns go dda wedyn. A wnaeth e jyst parhau... gweithio’n galed drwy’r wythnos a mynd yn wyllt ar nos Sadwrn a nos Sul. Ac eto, ti’n meddwl dy hunan: Wel, sut allan nhw fforddio mynd mas a chael diod a dawns? Ond dyna fe.... mae rhaid iddyn nhw ‘neud e. Dyna sut maen nhw’n byw drwyddi a dyna hanes y Cymoedd... ti’n gwbod, dyna hanes y holl beth. Mae ysbryd yn y bobl ‘ma ac maen nhw’n dawnsio a joio i’w ryddhau. Dyn 3: Wel, mae rhaid i ti, on’d oes?

Dyn 2: Oes, mae rhaid. Dyn 1: Wrth gwrs bod rhaid i ti. Dyn 2: Fel dwi’n gweud, wnes i aros i mewn am bythefnos mewn gwirionedd, wedyn dod mas ar ddydd Sul. Dwi’n ceisio talu am y carped yn fy ystafell wely; mae carped newydd ’da fi.... t’wel. Felly dwi’n talu am y carped... ti’n gwbod... ‘swn i’n dod lawr fan hyn ‘sai rhaid i mi... ti’n gwbod...rhaid i ti...

Mae drws y dafarn yn agor; mae’r colyn yn gwichian yn uchel, mae’r dafarnwraig yn mynd mas i’r stryd. Dyn 2: Ond mae’r misus yn gorfod talu rhyw 300 punt nawr... Dyn 1: Ma’ fe’n mynd i dynnu llun o blydi stryd ’di marw! Dyn 2: Ydi!

Dyn 1: Ond wedyn ti’n gorfod gofyn. Yr ail gwestiwn yw: Be’ mae’r ienctid yn ’neud ’ma ‘te?

Dyn 1: Dyna be’ ma’ fe’n mynd i ’neud...(Mae e’n oedi a myfyrio)...a pham lai?

Dyn 3: ’R un peth â ni’n ’neud. Yfed.

Dyn 2: Wel mae’n ddydd Sul, t’wel... dydd Sadwrn neu ddydd Sul.

Dyn 2: Wel ’r un peth â phan o’n ni’n ifainc, ro’n i’n arfer mynd mas bob nos yn yr wythnos, o’n wir. Dyn 1: Ie, ond dim ond un waith y blydi gallan nhw fynd... Dyn 2: Y broblem fwya yw achos bod nhw ar y clwt, on’d ife? ’Sdim gwaith ’da nhw.

Dyn 4: Ti’n mynd mas ’na a ti’n ffycin tynnu llun ’ny!!? Dyn 1: Gelli di dynnu ’ny unrhyw bryd… iawn, iawn, ond… ma’r boi’n ’neud ei swydd. Dyn 3: Ma ’fe’n ffycin niwsans mas ‘na’r bore ’ma.

Dyn 1: Sut mae ‘neud ‘ny pan wyt ti ar y clwt?

Dyn 1: Ma’r crwt yn ‘neud ei swydd.

Dyn 3: Sa i’n gwbod

Dyn 2: Ydy, dwi’n gwybod ‘ny.

Dyn 1: Dyma’r cwestiwn, on’d ife? Dyn 2: Ond... ti’n meddwl amdano fe nawr, ti’n gwbod: y bobl sy heb weithio erioed, maen nhw’n well off ‘na fi, maen nhw’n cael popeth ar blât, on’d ydyn nhw? Dyn 1: Na...na! Mae ystadegau’n dangos bod e’n wahanol i ‘na. Dyn 2: Ah... maen nhw’n gallu gweld, mae’r llywodraeth. Ma’ ’na bobl sy ’di gweithio ar hyd eu hoes, ac maen nhw’n gorfod talu am bopeth, pris llawn am ddannedd... pris llawn llawn llawn... treth stafell wely... ti’n gwbod... pris llawn am dŷ, am rent, treth y pen llawn, pris llawn am bopeth! Pobl sy heb weithio erioed ac maen nhw’n well off na fi! Felly, maen nhw’n mynd o gwmpas gyda’u ceir a’u telis mawr a duw â wyr beth arall.

Mae drws y dafarn yn agor; mae’n gwichian yn uchel eto, mae’r dafarnwraig yn dod nôl i mewn yn chwerthin nerth ei phen. Dyn 4: Be’ sy mor ddoniol? Tafarnwraig: Ma’ gwraig Neal ’da fe mas ’na. Dyn 1: Mae’n tynnu ei llun? Tafarnwraig: Yn tynnu llun o’i chot achos bod hi’n edrych fel y brics cochion ar yr adeilad. Mae chwerthin yn uchel yn dilyn. Dyn 1: Tlodi Dyn 4: (Chwerthin). Man yffyrni… doniol dros ben!

Dyn 1: Ond... mae ystadegau’n dweud bod mwy o bobl yn gweithio nawr nag ERIOED o’r blaen ac maen nhw’n dlotach nawr nag ERIOED o’r blaen. Achos ‘sdim ots os wyt ti’n gweithio neu b’ido. So ni’n biau dim, so ni’n rheoli’n bywydau ni, ac i ryw raddau, ’dyn ni’n gaeth yma... ac wedyn ti’n meddwl: Mae’n rhyw fath o garchar... mewn ffordd.

Tafarnwraig: ’Sai fe ’di troi rownd a gweud bod ’y nghot yn edrych fel adeilad brics ’swn i…

Dyn 2: Na... ond eto dwi wedi talu i mewn i ‘nhrethi dros y holl flynyddoedd... ond eto pan maen nhw’n hen bensiynwyr maen nhw’n derbyn yr un peth, mwy neu lai, ’r un pensiwn â fi a so nhw ‘di gweithio erioed.

Dyn 3: Lawr ochr y siop sglods?

Dyn 1: Iawn... digon teg. Dyn 2: A so fe’n deg, sa i’n credu, ta beth. Ond fel dwi’n gweud, so fe’n gwneud synwyr os ti heb weithio erioed a heb roi rhywbeth i mewn i’r llywodraeth, dylet ti dderbyn pensiwn is.

Dyn 3: ’Sdim rhyfedd dest ti i mewn, te! Tafarnwraig: Ma’ fe ’di mynd lawr ochr y siop sglods.

Dyn 2: (Yn pwyntio bys at Dyn 1 ac awgrymu). Cer am ffag. Tafarnwraig: Ma’ fe ‘di ei rhoi hi i sefyll o flaen cefndir y ffenestr. Tafarnwraig: Ma’ fe off ei ben! Dyn 2: Ma’ fe ’di gadael y peth walkie-talkie ar y ford; ma fe wedi droi e off... on’d ydy?

Dyn 4: Be’ ma’ fe’n tynnu lluniau ohono nawr? Dyn 1: Sa i’n gwybod…

Sŵn chwerthin cyffredinol.

Woman facing wall, Blaina, 2016. Menyw yn wynebu wal, Blaenau, 2016.

Dog, Tredegar, 2016. Ci, Thredegar, 2016.

Roy in his living room, Swffryd, 2016. Roy yn ei ystafellfyw, Swffryd, 2016.

The In Place, Tredegar, 2016. The In Place, Thredegar, 2016.

York Street, Cwm, 2017. Stryd York, Cwm, 2016.

Don Bearcroft, Abertillery, 2016. Don Bearcroft, Abertyleri, 2016.

Girl Blaina, 2016. Merch, Blaenau, 2016.

Ebenezer Chaple, Abertillery, 2016. Capel Ebenezer, Abertyleri, 2016.

Outside Swffryd Community Centre, 2016. Y tu allan i Ganolfan Gymunedol Swffryd, 2016.

Blaenau Gwent Photography Special by Sebastian Bruno Most of the images were first published in a supplement included in the Abertillery and Ebbw Valleys Dynamic Newspaper. The photographs were made in Abertillery, Blaina, Cwm, Swffryd and Tredegar, between 2016 and 2017.

Blaenau Gwent Photography Special gan Sebastian Bruno. Mae’r rhan fwyaf o’r delweddau gyhoeddwyd gyntaf yn atodiad ffotograffiaeth a gynhwysir yn y Abertyleri a Cymoedd Ebwy Papur Newydd. Y ffotograffau hyn eu gwneud yn Abertyleri, Blaenau, Cwm, Swffryd a Thredegar, rhwng 2016 ac 2017.

Design: Rocco Venezia

Dylunio: Rocco Venezia

Translation: Helen Price

Cyfieithu: Helen Price

Published in an edition of 1,000 to accompany the exhibition at the Kickplate Gallery, Abertillery, January 2017.

Cyhoeddwydd mewn argraffiad o 1,000 I gydfynd â’r arddangosfa yn yr Oriel Kickplate, Abertyleri, Ionawr 2017.

The author would like to thank the following people and organizations:

Hoffai’r awdur ddiolch i’r bobl a’r sefydliadau canlynol:

Rocco Venezia, David Barnes, Chris Coppock, Russel Roberts, David Drake, Bronwen Colquhoun, Paul Reas, Lisa Barnard, The Constitutional Club in Blaina, Swffryd Community Centre, Den and Gloria Hughes, Tony Flatman, Julian Meek, The Van Lady, Roy Musto, Lua Ribeira, Isaac Blease, Miguel Alberry, Ivan Vargas Grant Osman, Greg York, Elizabeth Baker-Bartlett, Don Bearcroft, Kevin and Clementine Schneidermann.

Rocco Venezia, David Barnes, Chris Coppock, Russel Roberts, David Drake, Bronwen Colquhoun, The Constitutional Club in Blaina, Swffryd Community Centre, Den and Gloria Hughes, Tony Flatman, Julian Meek, The Van Lady, Roy Musto, Lua Ribeira, Isaac Blease, Miguel Alberry, Ivan Vargas Grant Osman, Greg York, Elizabeth and Kevin Baker-Bartlett, Don Bearcroft, Kevin and Clementine Schneidermann.

How to articulate a space, how to give it a name? Always it is a question of time passing; and no sooner have you said something or committed it to print than the meaning modifies, even if the thought behind it is only a minute, a second old… already it will have accrued a thousand changes, each scarcely perceptible, to make it other. How then to write history, how then to chronicle the places which, for all their capacity to move, to irritate us, are already moving beyond us as clouds pass beyond the horizon, dissolving into nothingness? The present stretches before us: the so many red tiled roofs and gas-adapted chimneys, and the lives that go on beneath them holding so many secrets that even to begin to chronicle them will be fruitless. Already the suggestion of cliché lurks at the edge of the page, the words threaten to peter out. Is it possible to say anything at all, or is the silence preferable? All one may do is gather thoughts together like stones in season, knowing that the cairn one builds of them to forge an inner landscape, will eventually crumble.

Sut mae mynegi gwagle, a rhoi enw iddo? Bob tro, mae’n fater o dreigl amser; a chyn gynted â’ch bod yn rhoi llais i rywbeth neu ei osod mewn print mae’r ystyr yn newid, hyd yn oed os yw’r syniad y tu cefn iddo ond yn funud, neu’n eiliad oed.....Eisoes bydd wedi newid fil o weithiau, pob newid yn anodd i’w ganfod, i’w wneud yn rhywbeth arall. Felly, sut mae ysgrifennu hanes, sut mae cofnodi’r llefydd sydd, gyda’u dawn i symud, i’n gwylltio, eisoes yn mynd heibio i ni fel mae cymylau’n mynd y tu hwnt i’r gorwel, yn ymdoddi i ddiddymdra? Mae’r presennol yn ymestyn o’n blaenau ni: cynifer o doau teils cochion a simneiau wedi’u haddasu i nwy, a’r bywydau sy’n digwydd o danynt yn dal cynifer o gyfrinachau fel y byddai’n ofer hyd yn oed dechrau’u croniclo. Eisoes mae awgrym o ystrydeb yn llechu ar ymylon y dudalen, mae’r geiriau’n bygwth darfod. Ydy hi’n bosibl dweud unrhyw beth o gwbl, neu a yw’n well gennych y distawrwydd? Casglu meddyliau ynghyd yw’r unig beth i’w wneud, fel hel cerrig, tra’n gwybod y bydd y garnedd sy’n cael ei hadeiladu i greu tirwedd fewnol a fydd yn chwalu yn y pen draw.