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It’s funny how the best ideas often arrive when you’re not even looking for them.
Just before Christmas 2023, we were stuck, trying to figure out how to tour our work, especially Viv's autobiographical show Cutting Out. It was feeling impossible. Time and again, we were being told by venue programmers that our work is “too risky” or that “we don’t have an audience for this work.” We knew that wasn’t true — our events were selling well, and there are an estimated 11 million adult survivors of child sexual abuse in the UK alone (NSPCC, 2011), not to mention the countless allies in healthcare, social services, therapy, friends, and family. The audience was there. The need was there. The will was there. But without a space to perform in, the show can't happen. We explored several ideas in frustration: do we take it into people’s kitchens? Or bring it to Rape Crisis centres training rooms? But it all felt like strange permission seeking for what I truly know is exceptional theatre. And other theatre shows I've produced have not faced these same barriers, despite often working with politically driven stories. As a theatre producer, I've not seen the level of gatekeeping that we experience at Viv Gordon Company. And then, out of the blue, the phone rang. It was Matthew from East Street Arts in Leeds. We’d worked with them before when we took our UpFront Survivors pop-up series to their Leeds arts spaces, so he knew us — and he knew we were based in Bristol. “I’ve been offered some 'meanwhile space' options in Bristol,” he said. “Might you be interested?” That same week, we went to see it. By February, the paperwork was signed and the keys were in our hands. The shop was ours. Matthew and East Street Arts weren’t just offering four walls — they were offering autonomy. Space to create, to experiment, to work without constantly having to explain ourselves or beg to borrow a room for the day. It was more than convenience. It was freedom. Freedom from asking, “Do you mind if we move the chairs?” or having to tidy away our big pieces of paper full of plans and ideas, and walls hanging artwork made by survivors (yes, a lot of zebra stripes!) Freedom to plan, collaborate and create work steadily, on our own terms. Freedom to make and share work about the child sexual abuse survivor experiences without censorship. Over the past 18 months, that little shop — once a Shoe Zone — has been the backdrop for so much: our shows, yes, but also the countless unseen moments. Planning days. Team meetings. Laughter over tea. Shared frustrations and breakthroughs. It’s where our work has quietly grown roots. I’ll never forget the day Maggie Parks (Founder of Women's Centre Cornwall) came for a planning session with us. We unrolled a huge timeline across the shop floor, charting our work. Maggie began telling stories — about how rape crisis centres were first set up on kitchen tables, in sheds behind pubs, and in flats above shops. Listening to her, we felt ourselves slot into a bigger story, part of a movement stretching back decades. Or the night Viv was performing Cutting Out. During her Pretend Pretend song, two women in the audience suddenly called out, “Yes! This is my life!” And there was the ABC training pilot — six incredible survivors gathering with us in that space to help shape the ABC of CSA training. It was moving, powerful, and unforgettable. And then, of course, the 9-night run of Cutting Out: selling out every show, with a waiting list for return tickets, and proving beyond doubt that there’s an audience for this work. That run later led to the show being programmed at two key regional venues this summer. None of this would have been possible without so many people. Our heartfelt thanks go to Matthew and East Street Arts; the team at Boardwalk Shopping Centre; the other shop owners, the security guards, the cleaners — and every person who stopped to say hello and ask about our work. To our audiences who showed up for the shows, and our community who came to workshops and training: you made the shop feel alive. Looking back now, I realise how much that leap of faith, and having a space that was ours really mattered. A huge learning curve, but one that paid off in ways I can't fully express. - Kate McStraw, Executive Producer
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welcome to my blogI'll be posting my personal reflections on creating work as an artist and survivor of childhood sexual abuse, my work with the wider sector and interesting developments in arts and mental health. Categories
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