Thoughts for September: How it Feels to Make Impossible Things
Kathryn Hanke and Cherie Gordon in Mother of the Revolution at Leeds Industrial Museum in May 2024. Photography by Emily Goldie.
In celebration of a year since we launched the film of our production, Mother of the Revolution, we are giving audiences the last opportunity to watch it for free this weekend, and celebrating Betty Beecroft and all it means to make the impossible happen.
A true story ahead, when we got the funding (after six years of thinking, three years of development, and a funding reapplication) to realise the production of Mother of the Revolution, I (Beth) was talking to a group of fellow directors that I was about to make a show that had:
Two audiences and so, most of the time, two scenes happening concurrently
275 years of history condensed into just over 90 minutes, jumping around non-linearly
Embedded creative access elements including performers using BSL
A community choir and a young company of local performers alongside nine professional actors
And that it was all taking place in:
A textile mill from 1805 that operates across the all rehearsals on site, the whole run and until 1 and a half hours before each show, as a visitor filled industrial museum.
One of the directors turned to me and said,
“It sounds like you lost a bet to direct this show.”
And I was stunned.
And then I laughed.
And since then I’ve absolutely loved that this was said about this work; because it’s so completely the opposite from the truth.
I feel like I won the lottery to have made this piece. I feel like the most fortunate person that, in 2018, at a stage in my career where I was completely doubting myself, the story of Betty Beecroft was shared with me. I feel so, incredibly lucky that I made with and bore witness to the making of the many collaborators that developed this project with me between 2020-24.
And, with the experience of looking back on it. I totally get the reaction of that director. Because I’m constantly struck by:
The impossibility of it all.
There was so much pure invention in that work. I am the artist I am now because of what I learned in the making of that show. Try as I may, I could not go back and re-engineer it. The show was what it was because the learning, the responsiveness, the adaptation and manoeuvring we had to do to and every new curveball, unexpected element or challenge was all weaved into the fabric of the work:
Navigating realising something none of us had ever attempted with just three weeks to rehearse.
The first staggered run of the work, where Seán may have inexplicably ended up 3 guitars strapped to him, but everything double-scene lined up by magic.
The dress rehearsal where the audience had to move around 10 times in the first 15 minutes to let through diggers working on site.
That we staged epic outdoor sections, in the UK, in May, and not one drop of rain fell during the whole run until, half an hour after packing up after our final show, the heavens opened.
Not one of our, what felt like thousands of, planning documents could account for all of that impossible.
One of the essential, humbling rhythms of being an artist is returning, every time you start something new, to the feeling of impossibility.
There is no magic formula.
No fool-proof method.
To make something is to leap into the unknown.
Mother of the Revolution ends with an extract of Betty’s very own words, a woman writing hundreds of years ago in her diary, recanting her dreams:
I dreamt I reached a gate,
which joined an old wall, loose in mortar.
But I couldn’t get through the gate without holding onto the wall.
On the other side of the wall, there’s a steep precipice, hundreds of miles down.
And I knew, if I touched the wall,
the wall would fall…
and so would I.
I opened the gate.
This became a metaphor for Betty’s journey, she didn’t know what would be the result in taking on Kirkstall Forge. She didn’t know she’d quickly make it into a huge success. She didn’t know the work would be taken off her… and then somewhat given back to her. She didn’t know it would last in her family for generations and become an anchor for thousands of workers, across generations, including young women just like her. It could have been impossible to imagine. It was. But she did it anyway.
When choosing a sign name for Betty, what became was (to summarise in emoji form):
❤️🔥
A representation of her essential self, Betty’s heart is aflame. That was her guide. The trust of her own passion and her own heart.
And the biggest thing I’ve actually learnt, from Betty, from this epic, wild, impossible show - that I’m delighted to share with you for one last hurrah - is to greet the impossible. To open the gate. You might as well.
In other archipelago arts collective news:
Community Choir Sessions
We’re running three, free to access sessions for anyone who just fancies a bit of a sing! No experience necessary and get the first chance to listen to (and join in with, some of the songs in development from Shirley: An Awakening.
Pop along to:
Leeds Industrial Museum on Saturday 6th September from 12:30-2pm
Horsforth Brewery on Sunday 14th September from 4:30-6pm
Armley Library on Monday 22nd September from 10-11am
Makers in the Face of Doom Event - Next Saturday at Sheffield Theatres
There’s, very limited, spaces left for Makers in the Face of Doom; our free event for artists to come together, reckon with now and find solidarity and hope.
And for the month ahead…
Beth recommends:
A read: A huge source of inspiration during the research for Shirley: An Awakening has been Brian Merchant’s Blood in the Machine. A super accessible, riotously shaking, and at times stunningly heartbreaking peel through the Luddite story and why it matters (it so so so matters) now.
A listen: Jade Bird. Always Jade Bird. Listen 10 times in a row to the raw beauty of her new album, Who Wants To Talk About Love? And then listen to the whole back catalogue. And then book tickets for her tour. (Have I done all these things in the last month? YES)
A watch: The only rec you’re getting this weekend is to watch the film of Mother of the Revolution. (But you can watch The Great British Sewing Bee after that.)
An event: If you can nab the last tickets, because they’re SELLING OUT, book for RIPPLES from our friends at SBC Theatre, from the heart of the amazing artist Tafadzwa Muchenje and directed by my ever idol Rosie MacPherson.
Seán recommends:
A read: Through all of our discussion on our relationship with technology through Shirley: An Awakening, I’ve revisited Jaron Lanier’s Who Owns The Future. This book is over ten years old and it’s depressing to consider how some of its discourse has played out in the intervening period; but there is a hopefulness to it which, I think, is still present now!
A listen: Wolf Alice’s The Clearing came out over the summer and fully delivers on their inimitable ability to move from Indie-Pop, to angry Punk, to calming Folk!
A watch: See above…
An event: I’m hoping to get along so some bits of Alpaca next week, a festival of talks explorning Algorythmic Patterns in the Creative Arts