RAW MATERIAL : LLAREGGUB REVISITED was a National Theatre Wales production in collaboration with BBC Cymru Wales devised by Rees and Jon Tregenna, (or as he likes to put it, in creative cahoots with ). The event took place in Laugharne over 3 days in May when 600 people experienced a sensorial treasure hunt throughout the the township described by Dylan as, ‘…the strangest town in Wales.’
In Laugharne groups of ‘tourists’ arrived for the Thomas Centenary Tour that took-in its iconic landmarks, introduced and supposedly led by their guide Roy Ebsworth-Williams of Super Elite Coaches. was ‘diverted’ and the tour hijacked by VOYCE, a wiry, eccentric bearded madman who wanted to present his own homage to Dylan Thomas, Laugharne and the world of Under Milk Wood, unbeknownst to Roy his map had already been subverted with VOYCE’s vision. The tour parties were given the amended map and presented with a plethora of installations and interventions that gave an insight into Dylan’s fascination with the town and its people.
VOYCE believed that if Dylan was alive today he could still pen Under Milk Wood as the characters or those just as colourful are still there .
VOYCE was a pilferer, a poacher and a pirate and using raw material ‘gathered’ around the township as well as local people and their stories he created a unique immersive experience .
Along the route the audience saw. Multiple sheds. Live owls. Stuffed birds. A phantom carnival float. Salt lace. A pendulum buoy. A canvas 1950′s replica. A mirrored graveyard. Singing web footed cockle women. A ship-shaped shed. A corrugated tin terrace. The real life Willy Nilly postman. A condemned sail. A slow-mo chattering of jack-daws. School-kids rapping Dylan. Knitted Under Milk Wood figures. OSB coffin lids. A guardian Herron. Brassiere bunting. Tom Jones as Captain Cat . Bosom bread. A bloody livestock crime scene. Bible Black beer. Golden cockleshells. Sampled Stravinsky . A suspended swinging black canoe and a Rolls Royce Fish and Chip van.
The whole show was a reminder that art at its best is impressionistic, imagistic, transitory; it hovers on the edges of imagination, just out of explanation’s reach.