A step into the unknown.

Okay. This one is (probably) going to be a bit of a ramble so I apologise in advance. But it’s something that Olivia and I have been talking over for a while, and some recent behind-the-scenes developments have got the gears turning double time in my brain, so I’m going to try and make some sense of it here. So yeah, here’s your forewarning that what’s coming is the, albeit slightly edited, word vomit straight out of my brain. I guess be forgiving? Or just take it all as honesty, whatever you’d rather. But essentially, what I want to try and break down is this: that when we started this company, we didn’t have any idea what we were doing. 

I’m talking not-even-a-little-bit. For clarification, I mean with regards to the company, not the theatre side of it all. Although, side note, could you imagine starting a theatre company with no idea how to make an impactful performance? Would be an interesting experiment for sure. But anyway, I get sidetracked. Theatre as business. That’s the bit where everything gets a bit tricky. We know we can turn out phenomenal shows. We’ve been doing it for a while, and even though the pandemic (and subsequent never-ending lockdowns) have stopped us from doing it officially as Haywire, it’s all ticking away in the background. Once theatres are open again and audiences are ready to take their seats, we’ll be on stable ground. The extreme learning curve comes from trying to take all those ideas and convert them into an actual money-making, marketable, profit-generating business machine. Because that’s not a walk in the park, it’s not as simple as just knocking out a business plan and hoping for the best. You can’t take all the same steps you’d take when establishing any other new business, because it’s an entirely different game when you’re selling a single show every three months, and not a hoodie or candle. The supply-and-demand process has to be more carefully navigated when you aren’t providing for a singular need, or even something that you can supply on a semi-regular basis. The joy of theatre, of art in general, is the lengthy process that all builds to one ending where everything is left at the feet of your audience. Whether it’s gallery opening, or a premiere, or opening night, it’s months of work for one payoff. It isn’t selling something you can provide everyday. It isn’t fast capitalism, or easy to reach fulfilment for the consumers interested in what you do. Which means you can’t treat a business based in theatre like it is. You can’t run it like a normal business. 

How then, are you supposed to run a theatre business? This was the question we found ourselves asking in the latter half of 2020, once the company was established and the branding was done and we could turn our minds towards the mechanics of what we were attempting to do. And the startling realisation that we came across is that we didn’t have a single clue. No-one had ever tried to explain it to us, we weren’t even sure it was something so binary that it could be explained. That was how little we knew, we didn’t even know what we were supposed to know. I think, if I’m perfectly honest, that this comes from the fact that those who go into further education, be it university or otherwise, that is based in developing artistic practice, get exactly that. They get a period of study or development that is dedicated to growing their talent as a creative, as an actor, or a writer, or a painter, or musician, or director. Whatever you want to focus on. And those periods, it is good to specify now, are most definitely a necessary thing. Young artists (myself included) need time to alter their practice, to step outside the boxes of what is comfortable, and experiment in ways that they may have not been able to do previously. It’s vital for achieving creative maturity, and for deciding exactly who you want to be within the arts industry. The issue comes, however, once you actually step into that industry. Because the impression a lot of young artists give off when they reach that point, at least from my experience, is that they have absolutely no idea what to do with all that wonderful artistic talent they’ve cultivated. They’re faced with an already challenging sector that grows ever more inaccessible for entry-level creatives the more time goes on, and they either have to slot themselves into a box in a pre-existing role, or try and make it on their own. The former is far more comfortable, but can be creatively stifling, and the latter is exciting, limitless, and adaptable, but is also entirely terrifying. And it’s terrifying because nobody ever tells you how to do it successfully. There’s no course or module devoted to teaching you how to break into the industry as an individual, or with a company of your own. Sure, there are additional education and development routes that you can pursue, whether it’s drama school or a master’s degree or otherwise, that may provide you with those skills or industry connections that help, but oftentimes these cost even more money than you’ve already paid. Some people don’t want to continue with that level of education or academic development, other people are literally unable to because of economic or social circumstance. There’s a lot about that which doesn’t sit right with me. It’s not enough to create new artists and creatives with something to say, you have to further empower them with the skills and knowledge required to put that to independent use, if that’s what they want to do. 

But what is to be done about this? That’s an even more complicated issue. We can’t start asking arts courses to change their curriculums, but it also still feels like something should be done. We (as in Haywire) want to do something. Because for us, learning theatre as a business is a hands on, in the moment discovery. We’re constantly learning and changing our approach as and when we hit new stumbling blocks, and we’re finding a kind of expression within this. It’s exciting to be constantly growing, but there is an element of the unknown within that excitement. No-one ever gave us the tools so we’re making our own, but we’re doing so with the knowledge that we could be steering ourselves in the entirely wrong direction. Or we could be steering ourselves in the right direction. Hell, there could be no such thing as right and wrong when it comes to making your own career in the arts. We don’t know. The big concern, for us at least, is that there will be other artists who will consider how little they know, and decide it’s not for them. That crafting an independent career, either as a company or an individual, is too much of a challenge. Even if those people are the most brilliant, revolutionary artists to have come out of this decade, I wouldn’t blame them at all for deciding it’s too much of a leap into the unknown. There are days I wake up and think that. You need confidence and faith in what you’re doing to push through that, and I think those qualities would be much easier to find if we were at least handed some kind of starting kit. The Lego-Star-Wars-Build-Your-Own-Death-Star for freelance artists if you will. This is especially true for those people who don’t feel represented by the arts sector as it currently stands. How do you even begin to go about building confidence to enter a sector, as your own artist, if it doesn’t seem like that sector actually wants to hear from you? We’ve got some ideas as to how we think we can help, and we’re fleshing them out more and more every day. I’m eager to get stuck in and try to help. Maybe those ideas will go absolutely nowhere at all, maybe they’ll do something minor, or maybe something big. It’ll be intriguing to watch and take part in either way. 

Any artists out there, or even people who did arts courses and degrees and just have something to say, let us know your thoughts. What do you wish you’d known? If you’re still to finish those courses, what do you feel like you need to know? What scares you most about freelancing in the arts sector? When do you wish you’d been told the realities of making it on your own? And would it have changed anything about what you did/will do if you knew? For anyone that’s finished a course and feels like they’re in a good place, what got you there? And why do you think not everyone achieves that as quickly? It doesn’t matter if you just want to rant, or chat, or if you have something incredibly specific to say, but please get in touch. Hearing from others helps us identify the gaps we’ve missed, and helps us work out exactly what we can do to help. Above this post are some buttons that’ll take you to one of our social media pages, or straight to email, so send us a DM or something longer. If you’re reading this on your phone, click on the menu icon, and they will be at the bottom of the dropdown menu. Let’s have a conversation. Let’s start talking, because it will lead to change. Even if that change is as small as you and us getting some insight we wouldn’t have had otherwise. We want more artists taking the leap to share their voices through their own work, because it can only make the arts sector more diverse and accessible. And those are pretty cool things for it to be. 

Lucy x