{"id":34374,"date":"2024-02-07T11:38:09","date_gmt":"2024-02-07T10:38:09","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/03173089-af10-4f94-8309-fc56bf11c6a4"},"modified":"2024-02-07T13:40:28","modified_gmt":"2024-02-07T12:40:28","slug":"the-morris-renaissance-how-the-young-and-stylish-are-breathing-new-life-into-an-ancient-folk-dance","status":"publish","type":"rss_feed","link":"https:\/\/c01.purpledshub.com\/bbccountryfile\/rss_feed\/the-morris-renaissance-how-the-young-and-stylish-are-breathing-new-life-into-an-ancient-folk-dance\/","title":{"rendered":"The Morris renaissance: how the young and stylish are breathing new life into an ancient folk dance"},"content":{"rendered":"

It\u2019s as English as scones and cream, but Morris dancing was at risk of becoming marginalised. Now, as the folk tradition experiences a rural revival among the young, radical and stylish, photographer Rachel Adams meets those bringing Morris out of the past. <\/p>

By countryfile\n <\/p>

Published: Wednesday, 07 February 2024 at 10:38 AM<\/p>

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It\u2019s 4.30am and I\u2019m circling a hairpin bend, looking for somewhere to park. I\u2019m in deepest Gloucestershire, awake much earlier than usual in search of an event I hope is worthwhile. As I pull into a pitch-black car park, so does another car. Two men get out. I can\u2019t see them, but I hear bells jingling, quiet voices and a dog barking in a nearby campervan. I realise the film I\u2019ve brought will be useless if the sun doesn\u2019t cut through the heavy mist in time for the event I\u2019ve driven from London to photograph.<\/p>

I\u2019ve come to watch a new iteration of an old tradition \u2013 Morris dancers welcoming in the summer at dawn on 1 May. As more people arrive, including conservationists eager to point out the ground-nesting skylarks<\/a> and yellow cowslips, it\u2019s clear the turn-out will be far larger than expected. By daybreak, 400 people have made their way through the half-light to watch two local sides, Boss Morris<\/a> and Miserden Morris<\/a>, dance their way across Rodborough Common near Stroud.<\/p>

All-male side from Berkshire, Datchet Border Morris celebrate the beginning of summer on May Day on Windsor Bridge in 2023. Credit: Mark Kerrison\/Getty Images<\/figcaption><\/figure>

Although Morris has been part of May Day festivities for centuries, it\u2019s the first time these sides (the name for a Morris group) have invited their social media followers to join them in celebrating the English countryside\u2019s magical transformation from wintry grey to vibrant green.<\/p>

As a photographer, I\u2019m endlessly fascinated by people \u2013 what we do, why we do it, and in particular how creativity thrives when cultures are pushed to the margins and collide. I\u2019ve always loved the idea of Morris dancing, seeing the dancers as keepers of some ancient rite, indifferent to modern fads and fashion, and relishing, just as much as I do, the changing seasons and any excuse to spend the long summer evenings outdoors. <\/p>

“I\u2019ve always loved the idea of Morris, seeing the dancers as keepers of some ancient rite<\/em>“<\/p><\/blockquote>

When I moved to Dorset in 2014, I enjoyed finding that mixture of ancient and modern, rural and urban in the myriad folk festivals in towns and villages, with pubs and streets that buzz with trad music sessions, cider louts, \u2018rural disco\u2019, and of course, dozens of Morris sides.<\/p>

But while there were plenty of Morris folk to photograph, I didn\u2019t see many that would persuade editors to publish my work or persuade the public away from their preconceptions of Morris dancing, as an eccentric and out-of-date curiosity.<\/p>