As of yesterday, I am no longer Efenwealt’s apprentice.

He has resigned from the Order of the Laurel and withdrawn from all polling orders as a form of retirement. He has his reasons for having done so, and while I may not agree with all of them, I respect his decision to do so and I believe he has not done this in haste or without an appropriate amount of consideration. I also believe it to be the right course of action for his personal growth.

This, however, leaves me in a position I did not anticipate. I am no longer Efenwealt’s apprentice, and it did not come about from my own elevation. I know that I’m a somewhat casual player within the SCA. Grad school and children have kept me from the level of activity I enjoyed when I was in my early 20′s, and I’ve had other priorities through the years. But through it all, I have been Efenwealt’s apprentice. I asked to become his student within my first year or so of playing, and he accepted me as one immediately, to my delight. I apprenticed to him when I was 19, at the first event we both attended after his elevation. I’ve been apprenticed to him longer than I’ve known my husband. I’ve had his green belt as a treasured part of my wardrobe since before I graduated out of glorified T-tunics. My apprenticeship to and association with Efenwealt has been a core part of my SCA identity for my entire adult life.

And now, I am no longer Efenwealt’s apprentice.

I’ve had some time to think on this and to figure out how I’m going to identify going forward. Practically speaking, very little will change. I’ll need a new belt. Emotionally, I have a visceral reaction to having to return my green belt. But it’s just a strip of leather. And I’m not losing my connection with my now-former Peer. Efenwealt does not need to be a Laurel to cheer me on, celebrate my successes, and help me analyze my failures. He will continue to do that. We live in different kingdoms so we’ve never had much in the way of in-person instructional time anyway outside of seeing each other at Pennsic and the rare occasions we’re at other events together. He was fond of asking those who came to him asking to be his apprentice, “What would I do as your Laurel that I wouldn’t do as your friend?” I snuck in before he started asking that, but my answer would’ve been that being able to name-drop that I was his apprentice would open some doors for me (and admittedly, close a few). So now I have to stand on my own, which isn’t so bad as through the years, I’ve developed my own reputation independent of him. I can and will continue to claim him as dear friend and household. Another common responsibility of a Peer to their dependent is to serve as a voice and advocate on the respective council and to provide feedback from said council in an appropriate fashion to the dependent. It’s more difficult to do that cross-kingdom, and I know in-kingdom Laurels who I trust to advocate for me if it becomes appropriate. Being a dependent is not a requirement to elevation; after all, our first Bardic Laurel in AEthelmearc was not an apprentice.

Mistress Zsof posted a query on Facebook some time ago, asking associates to share why they chose to be a squire/apprentice/protege/scholar. I replied that I was an apprentice because I wanted to be associated with and learn from Efenwealt, not because I specifically wanted to be “an apprentice”. I even noted at the time that, were Efenwealt never made a peer, I would likely not have become apprenticed to someone else and chosen instead to remain his student as I valued the mentoring from the person, not the Peerage. I still value greatly my association with Efenwealt, but we are transitioning into one of equals.

And so, I am no longer Efenwealt’s apprentice.

I am his friend and his house-sister, but not his student. His breadth of experience in performing and research still far outshine my own, and yet I’m now to think of him as my equal. After two decades of striving (albeit very slowly) to reach him, that goalpost is gone.

So, now what?

Now, I continue my journey. Life as Efenwealt’s apprentice was never one of structured guidance. I will continue to make my way through the Bardic community, learning at my own pace. I’ve been my own captain in practice for quite some time, and now that self-guidance is formalized. It also means I now have full responsibility: my actions, good and bad, no longer reflect upon my Laurel. I am no longer his representative. My actions are fully my own. That left me feeling rather lost when I was first told of Efenwealt’s intentions, but over the course of the past few weeks, I’ve become accustomed to the idea and believe it’s not so bad to shake things up a bit, to no longer think of my apprenticeship as a crutch. Granted, the vast majority of this is going on in my own head since practically speaking, I’ve basically been doing whatever I like anyway. But in the back, there was always that thought of being Efenwealt’s dependent. Now there’s a hole that I’m filling with my own agency, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

I am no longer Efenwealt’s apprentice. And I’m going to be okay.

Before I forget any more of it, I really must write a summary of my experience at Gulf Wars last month.

Last year’s Gulf Wars was special in that it was what prompted me to get back into the SCA and reconnect with my bardic leanings. The bardic camaraderie, hanging out with my people, the singing, improvising melodies in the back of Truly’s hat shop and even writing her a jingle! To the tune of Maltese Bransle: “Serious historical headwear at Truly’s hat-hat-hats/She’s got a beaver bowler there, what do you think of that-that-that?/Yo-ou need a hat, yo-ou need a hat, you are naked with no hat-hat-hat/Yo-ou need a hat, yo-ou need a hat/you are naked with no haaaaat.” I’d heard many wonderful things about the Green Dragon Inn as a performance space, and I was given a missive by my Laurel to perform there, which I did last year during the Friday night Bardic Press Gang (essentially a managed Bardic circle for the purpose of entertaining a tavern).

This year, the Green Dragon opened their performance docket to newer talent, and I was able to get an hour’s slot. I was fortunate enough also to be the first performing act at the Dragon and to open for Heather Dale, both of which contributed to having an excellent audience. Don Braennan the Misguided joined me on stage to provide percussion accompaniment and to sing a few pieces of his own. I’m reproducing my set list here to assure that proper credit is given to the respective authors of the songs.

Twilight Ride (Eleanor Fairchild)
Daughters of Atlantia (lyrics, Kasia Hawkins/music, Silence de Cherbourg)
Wind on the Sea (Gwendolyn the Graceful)
Your Group’s Name Here (lyrics, Yaakov HaMizrachi)
Washer at the Ford (Emer nic Aiden)
Warrior’s Wyrd (Ivar Battleskald)
Sad Song (lyrics, Eleanor Fairchild)
Misha (Efenwealt Wystle)
Macha’s Curse (Emer nic Aiden)
Weight of the Chain (Aneleda Falconbridge)

Braennan’s drumming was a wonderful addition to the set, and worked brilliantly, especially given that we’d only managed to get together around 1 that afternoon to run through things. He was a delight to perform with and our on-stage chemistry flowed easily. Having another performer up there during my first-ever solo concert helped enormously in taking the edge off the performance jitters.

Once my concert was completed successfully, I was able to enjoy the rest of the event without any anxiety. I was very honored to have been asked the following evening to sing back up for Sir Kenneth and Mistress Adelaide, aka Ken and Lisa Theriot. It seemed their usual backup couple had met with travel woes and wouldn’t make it in time for the concert, so I spent Tuesday afternoon quickly committing a few key harmony lines to memory and running through the rest of the set list, picking out an appropriate line. It was a wonderful experience performing up there with them, and as I was just starting to come down with a cold, I was able to take the tenor line almost too easily.

Wednesday was a jaunt down to New Orleans, Thursday was a day of relaxation and shopping, and Friday was the Bardic Press Gang at which Quyn and I reprised our Parting Glass trio from Pennsic with Lisa filling in on the melody line as Heather had left site that morning. After the press gang, Quyn and I roamed from party to party, drinking and singing rounds and generally having a lovely time of it.

It’s tricky doing a lot of travel like that with small children, but by next year I’ll likely have forgotten just how exhausting it is and remember only how amazing the week was with my bardic brethren.

I’ve never liked watching myself perform, many people don’t, but one of the best ways to improve is to do exactly that. Embedding seems to be failing, so you’ll have to go to YouTube and watch me singing Wind on the Sea direct from Shava’s channel.

Self analysis:
For context, this was the first time I actually performed Wind on the Sea before an audience of more than one. Now, performing a new-to-me piece in front of a room full of some of the best bards in the Society while being videoed and recorded was probably not the brightest idea I’ve ever had. I’d been asked for a few options for pieces “at or under 5-6 minutes”, and most of my pieces are under 3 minutes so I went searching through my repertoire for longer options to offer. Wind on the Sea is one of the very few longer ones I know, plus it felt good to have Gwen at least represented at a Luminaries concert. Go fig, the organizers picked Wind on the Sea as my performance piece. (My comment at the beginning about having no obligation to teach anything was a reference to Master John Inchingham’s introduction in his performance just prior to mine.)

Good things:
• I stayed on pitch. When performing solo a cappella, especially when nerves are in play as they were here, it’s very easy to go sharp. Even a full choir will occasionally drift in pitch. (We usually blame the basses because they’re the easiest to hear and if they drift, the choir follows.)
• I remembered all the lyrics. This is a pretty basic thing, but it’s something I’ve struggled with as I’ve been returning to performing. You’ll notice the blue book in my left hand with one finger holding the place where I have my lyric cues written down, but I didn’t have to reference it during the concert. There’s really a very easy way to address this: more practice. Zsof (Mistress Tyzes Sofia) pointed out to me at KWCB that there’s no excuse for a vocalist not to practice (in the car! in the shower! while doing dishes!), which means there’s no excuse to ever need a lyric sheet in a performance. She’s absolutely right. I still will keep my music book as a crutch, but her encouragement gave me more confidence in my ability to remember more lyrics.
• I didn’t betray my nerves too badly. I did have one friend say he could hear the nerves a bit, but only because he knows what my voice sounds like and knows my vibrato isn’t that fast naturally. Another example of nerves that I can tell is that my “performing” is more subdued than usual. I like to put personality into pieces instead of just singing the right notes with the right words, and there’s definitely some of that emoting going on, enough that I’m pleased with the performance, but had I been performing the piece for years, I would’ve felt more comfortable at the mic and been able to exaggerate a bit more.

My places for improvement are largely fixable by additional practice. I want to emote more, there were a couple places where my tuning was a tad off, and I found out from Gwen that I’ve been missing a few melody subtleties that I need to incorporate in future performances. Overall, though, I’m not displeased by it.

[NOTE: IKA in this context is inter-kingdom anthropology, not any of the other results that Google may return for the abbreviation.]

I looked at my calendar, and I realized between Pennsic and New Year’s, I’m attending more events out of kingdom than in (not including Pennsic itself, which happens to be in kingdom for me but is more a Known World event than a kingdom event). That’s affected a fair bit by my modern travel schedule, but still, I find myself putting in more effort to attend out-of-kingdom events than in-kingdom. I’ve been making an effort to play more locally ever since realizing how depressed the bardic culture within Æthelmearc has become, but I’m recognizing a catch-22. If I want to do bardic activities and there aren’t any happening at our kingdom events, the bards in the kingdom are going to go elsewhere to do their thing. Well, I shouldn’t say there are no bardic events. We do have a few, like February’s Kingdom for a Stage and September’s Bards and Bows, and there’s usually a performance track at our A&S pentathlon, Ice Dragon. And yet, I find myself seeking out alternatives. Why is that, I’ve wondered?

At my monthly Bardic Circle this past weekend, we discussed kingdom and barony bardic culture, as we often do. Within my barony, the Debatable Lands, we have a lot of musical culture. We have the Debatable Choir, a vocal ensemble devoted to multipart period pieces. We have the Debatable Consort, an instrumental group that often performs for dances and balls, and for ambiance before and after Court. Both of these are very heavily focused on period pieces, though. The concept of “Bardic” is somewhat different. There are documentable pieces we can perform, to an extent. There are all the trouvère and troubadour pieces, some of which even have music preserved with the lyrics. There are some Child ballads within our scope. There are the Cantigas de Santa Maria. But what a performance of these lacks is the experience that one would’ve had hearing these pieces in context, in their appropriate time. Practically no one is fluent in Galician-Portuguese to the extent that they converse in the language regularly. Same with Old French, no one will be using it in casual conversation at an event. This is the main reason I’m such a proponent of lyrical translations into modern English — the original language is virtually incomprehensible to a modern audience and requires a greater effort to appreciate than many are willing to put in. But taking this a step further, there’s still bardic as an art form, not as a recreation of period works. This is a matter of great debate within the society. What is the worth of taking the role of a trouvère and adapting it to our society? Creating contemporary works in a style that the audience enjoys listening to, for the purpose of entertainment? Where’s the line between being period enough and still capturing the audience’s rapt attention? Now, we do have a couple active poets in kingdom who diligently write pieces to commemorate current events in Old Norse style, which is about comparable to using Bayeux Tapestry embroidery stitches to create something with modern SCA heraldic pieces on it for awards or favors, definitely within the scope of “acceptable” period bardic. But for reasons beyond the scope of this mere bard’s blog post, modern audiences tend to prefer music and song to spoken poetry. Where do songs like Efenwealt’s “Heloise and Abelard” fall? Period topic, but completely modern lyric structure, melody, and accompaniment. And yet it’s one of the most powerful pieces I know.

Which brings me back around to bardic IKA. In Atlantia, where I got my SCA start, I was surrounded by bards like Efenwealt Wystle, Rosalind Jehanne, Dervila ni Leanon ni Liadhnáin the Storyteller, Bryce de Byram, Niall Dolphin, Dunstan le Heryngmongere… I remember when each of them got their laurels. They all have period elements to their performances, of course, but they’re best known for entertainment, not a strict adherence to pre-1600 performance. Rosalind writes some of the best songs in the known world. Efenwealt has multiple albums and fans around the globe. Bryce and Niall performed at most feasts I attended. However, in some kingdoms, that skill in entertaining an audience isn’t considered enough of a period art to merit consideration for higher order awards. While “going for the cookie” shouldn’t be the only reason for pursuing something, recognition by one’s peers is not to be underestimated as a motivation, and I can’t help but wonder whether that the lack of recognition for entertaining is part of what’s hampering Æthelmearc’s bardic culture. Definitely not the only thing as Ealdormere’s own bardic culture has flagged in recent years and they’ve always had a strong appreciation for entertainers, but if entertainment was more of a recognized art in itself, would we have more people pursuing it and a stronger culture thriving? Like attracts like, and I find myself drawn to events in which I feel there’s a bigger audience for my preferred art which means Cooks and Bards, or events back in Atlantia. (Granted, the proximity of grandparents for child care makes it easier and more appealing to go to Atlantian events, too.) This isn’t helping the issue of Æthelmearc having so little bardic culture, though. By directing my efforts out of kingdom, I fear I’m contributing to the problem.

So, what’s the solution? The first thought to come to mind is, “I should make more bardic happen at events myself! Plan bardic circles, sponsor competitions, maybe even run a bardic-themed event!” Great idea in theory, but the SCA isn’t my only hobby and I have one small child and another on the way. I don’t have the time, energy, or focus to be the lone spearhead. I’m thrilled that Gwendolyn the Graceful has moved back in kingdom and only lives a few minutes away from me now, so perhaps between the two of us we can get some momentum going. The unofficial required quorum to make a bardic circle seems to be three bards, so all we have to do is stick together and find one other performer to make bardic happen. And I can at least attempt to take advantage of my out of kingdom excursions to do some research into what helps the bardic culture thrive elsewhere and see what I can bring home.

Known World Bardic Congress and Cook’s Collegium VII. Just … Wow. Possibly one of the best weekend events I’ve been to, ever. The classes were inspiring, educational and fun, the discussions between classes were invaluable, the music was varied and wonderful, the food was OMG insane, the other attendees were remarkable… I can’t say enough wonderful things about it. The theme of my classes seemed to be always arriving late because I was caught up in another discussion with someone.

I learned about extant interpretations, better songwriting techniques, and the Cantigas de Santa Maria. I played a hurdy-gurdy and now I lust for one (damn you, Robyyan, and your enabling!). I learned that I can remember lyrics better than I give myself credit for. I was privileged to represent both Æthelmearc and Atlantia when one bardic circle was doing a series of a kingdom/patriotic song from every kingdom of the known world. I spent time with wonderful, talented people I don’t ever get to see enough of. I met people I thought had stopped playing (Thomas Bordeaux!), and I spent time getting to know others that I’ve respected for years and never had a chance to talk much with. I got called one of the “cool kids”, several times, much to my surprise. I have handouts on writing humorous songs, medieval accompaniment, and modern music notation. (While I can read music myself, for folks who want to learn, I now have a resource to use and walk through with them.) I added two more songs to my repertoire, both filks done by Eleanor/Truly. Hopefully a recording of our rendition of “Your Group’s Name Here”, modified from Yaakov’s filk, will be available on YouTube soon, as well my performance during the Sunday concert of Gwen’s “Wind on the Sea”. (At least I finally got a copy of the “Parting Glass” trio from Pennsic.) At the end of the event was possibly my favorite bardic circle in a long while. It wasn’t the “official” bardic circle taking place outside at the fire, but was inside, having started when critical bardic mass (defined as 3 bards) was hit when a few folks came to listen to Lucia noodling around on a guitar. Organic development, but many wonderful powerhouses performed. I was surrounded by “my people”, whether I knew them personally or not, and I felt at home and welcome, most thoroughly.

Can’t talk about Cooks and Bards without at least mentioning the food. Saturday’s feast was the first time I’d been to one in which all the feast gear, for everyone, was provided. It was more like attending a wedding reception, with name cards at seats, gold-colored chargers, goblets and napkins and silverware, everything provided for. There was rabbit pie, duck eggs, guinea fowl, cheeses, cured meats, an amazing abundance of fantastic dishes. The cooks outdid themselves.

Despite taking 12 hours of travel just to get there and another 12 back, it was worth it, no question. I still have to write up all the new references I had suggested to me while I was there (and place a hefty Amazon order soon, I believe), which I’ll try to put up here somewhere with notes as I read them myself, in all that spare time I have…

In 7 days, I fly out to Northshield to attend the Known World Bardic Congress and Cook’s Collegium VII, an event that takes place once every two years and attracts participants from around the Known World to attend classes and share knowledge of cooking and bardic arts. More commonly referred to as Cooks and Bards, it’s a wonderful opportunity for cooks to cook food and for bards to eat it. :D I suppose there’s an element of “sing for your supper” involved, too… I’m helping proof-read the site booklet and it’s hard not to get sidetracked by all the awesome sounding class descriptions and wanting to write down my class schedule! Also, I’ve been honored with an invitation to participate in the “Concert of SCA Luminaries”. One or two performers were selected from each of 12 kingdoms represented at the event, and I’ve been chosen to represent AEthelmearc. (Yay!) I’ve always come away from this event feeling inspired and motivated, and I can’t wait to see what comes out of this year’s offerings!