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Rozzy Knox, executive director (maternity cover)

July 2019: I left my job in London for a career adventure as the maternity cover for Middle Child’s executive director, Lindsey Alvis.

As my friends know, I LOVE London. I was dedicated to spending my twenties stumbling around Soho and Southbank. So, I faced a lot of shock at the statement I was moving to Hull: “Are you sure?”

“You love your job?!”

“You know it’s colder there?”

One friend even remarked: “My instinct tells me this is a bad move.”

Now don’t get me wrong, moving to Hull was a shock to a millennial Londoner. No Wagamamas? No Pret-a-Manger macaroni cheese? No Uber? All taxis need cash? CASH?!

But, I had claimed my aspiration was to “run a theatre company one day”. I preached that I agreed that “theatre is too London-centric”. I had told myself that I needed to work in the subsidised sector to understand the theatre industry fully. So, how could I turn away this opportunity with Middle Child?¹

I packed my belongings into my Citroen C1 and drove up the M1. I traded my love/hate relationship with the Northern line commute for a walking commute which, three out of five days, smells like freshly baked bread.²

It is hard to summarise a years’ worth of experience into one blog post, but here’s an attempt to cover the main things I have learnt.

1) Hull’s sense of community is unrivalled

I thought I knew about community. But it wasn’t until I moved to Hull that I realised I hadn’t experienced community on this scale before. People from Hull, LOVE HULL. There are hundreds of volunteers who wear blue coats around the city and are met with adoration wherever they go. It sounds too twee to be real, but it’s true!

A staggering number of people who studied at the University of Hull have stayed in the city ever since. Equally, a huge number of people who moved there in 2017 for UK City of Culture have firmly rooted themselves in the city. I can’t express what it is about Hull that makes people love it. Maybe it has to do with the city’s growth over the last five years? Maybe it is rising above a negative reputation? Maybe it’s Hull Fair, the music, the festivals, the nightclubs, the museums? Maybe it’s a shared love of chip spice, white telephone boxes, Peter Levy and patties? 

The city feels like its own microcosm of shared experience, community and aspiration.

2) The strength of taking a chance on people

I was 25 when I took this job. I had never worked in subsidised theatre before. I hadn’t worked in theatre outside of London before. I hadn’t been a line manager before. I hadn’t been to a board meeting before. There are many other examples of things I hadn’t done, but we’d be here all day.

However, I am keen to learn and ready to tackle problems. Plus, I was already a huge fan of Middle Child, so not lacking in enthusiasm. I struggle to think of many companies that would have taken a risk on me like Middle Child did. But how are people to learn if not by giving opportunities and the chance for big leaps?

In a world of CVs and ‘essential experience’ criteria, I feel lucky to have had a year where I was given a chance to test myself and learn fast. How fantastic to have a company that is willing to invest that energy into supporting people early in their careers. It’s made me think about how people recruit; should experience and qualifications outweigh somebody the right mindset?

3) Leadership roles mean you have even more people supporting you

I had a vision of an executive director’s job which revolved around independent decision making, having to present myself as a leader and taking responsibility for the actions of a team. To some extent it is.

But actually, you have a whole team of people supporting you and involved in the decisions you make, including your board, your colleagues, Arts Council England, funders and other cultural leaders. The amount of support I have felt since starting at Middle Child has been unparalleled. When I moved to Hull, I had the leaders of other cultural organisations asking me if I’d like a coffee. People were going out of their way to introduce themselves and help me feel more at ease.

I’ve never been shy to ask questions when I get stuck, but it’s amazing to have people that you feel you can ask questions of.

4) Adelaide Fisheries do the best fish and chips.

Would recommend getting the gravy.

5) Help out the newcomer

Moving to a new city, solo, was quite intimidating. As I said before, the Hull community is very tight knit: they experienced UK City of Culture together, went to university together, raise families together. Whilst an amazing thing, it sometimes felt hard to fit into.

I was relatively well-weaved into the theatre community in London. Walking into a meeting, I would more often than not have a point of connection with somebody at the table. So, I never really experienced the ‘newcomer’ feeling.

The main thing I learnt was the importance of pushing myself into situations and looking out for other newcomers. A memory that sticks with me is when Middle Child board member, Fiona, watched me walk into Hull Truck Theatre for the first time and immediately left all her university friends so that I wasn’t alone and started introducing me to people. Note to self: always be a Fiona.

6) It’s ok to cry in the office.

“Some people say, ‘Never let them see you cry.’ I say, if you’re so mad you could just cry, then cry. It terrifies everyone.” – Tina Fey (Bossypants, 2011)

Here’s the thing: I cry when I’m frustrated. I’m not alone in this. Gloria Steinham, Roxane Gay and Rihanna are just a few of the famous women who have spoken publicly about crying with frustration at work.³

I think I’ve cried twice at Middle Child. Afterwards, I felt embarrassed – it’s not the vision of executive directing I’d imagined. But, I have amazing colleagues who immediately brought a cup of tea, said it was absolutely fine, sent a follow up text in the evening, then never mentioned it again.⁴

What stars. If you need to cry in the office, you should be allowed to cry in the office. You’ll feel better after. Feeling emotion is good. Showing you care about your job is good.

7) The industry relies on kindness and knowledge sharing

I had never worked in a team this small before. This meant that there was often nobody in the office who would know the answers to the problems I was trying to solve.

Previously I might have deferred to a line manager or relevant department head, but now I was often forced to problem-solve by myself or ask for help from outside the team. Often problem-solving for me was as simple as having to think who had the knowledge and would be willing to help me.

I presume that most people in their careers go through this period where they start relying on others’ support and kindness. I enjoy thinking that the industry is partially operating on a conveyor belt of free advice, guidance and support being passed around. Particularly with the challenges the industry faces in the imminent future.

8) The importance of job flexibility in the theatre industry

Whilst at Middle Child we joined PiPA (Parents in Performing Arts), an amazing company which helps arts organisations become family-friendly employers. Middle Child is a company which encourages their employees to work in the way that suits them best.

Whilst at Middle Child I had two weeks where I really needed to work from my family home.  In my previous jobs I would never have expected this to be easily agreed upon; there would have been negotiation, annual leave might have been deducted, it would have likely been a difficult and stressful process. Middle Child were fantastic, with a faith in my ability to work remotely and understanding of why I felt I had to be at home for two weeks.

I’m writing during the 2020 lockdown, where we have further tested the ability to work remotely. It’s difficult to have a family alongside long-term career ambitions in the theatre industry; theatre relies on evening work, long hours and often a physical presence. I have spent a lot of the last year thinking about what job flexibility means to me, not just for the present moment, but in how it speaks for an organisation’s values. It shows trust in employees and a recognition of commitments of individuals, and in return the organisation receives loyalty from employees and the ability to retain its talent.

So, to conclude….

I’m having an amazing time at Middle Child and I’m a big fan of Hull. I like working in theatre because I like working on project-based activity, but mainly because I like the people; they’re creative, outgoing, passionate, slightly eccentric and more often than not, very kind. It is sad to be seeing this amazing company have to cancel exciting projects because of the current situation in the world. However, as a voice from the inside, knowing what is ahead for them and how passionate they are to help re-build the industry, I could not be prouder to be associated with such a great company and for the year I’ve had with them.

Footnotes. Because I’m the kind of lass who writes a blog post with footnotes.

1) Actually what happened was, I told the co-founder of my old job that I’d been offered the role and he replied, “Well you should obviously take it, we can’t offer you an experience as good as that”, and the decision was made for me.

2) Spring Bank, Jackson’s Bakery, for the non-Hull locals.

3) Interview with Gloria Steinem

4) They also quickly learnt to suggest a Diet Coke break if I started to seem on-edge.

Paul Smith, Artistic Director & CEO

No-one teaches you this, do they? There aren’t any Open University courses on running a theatre company in a pandemic. I couldn’t find any TedTalks on ‘how to smash socially distanced theatre’, or Buzzfeed articles on the ’55 Inspiring Things Artists of the Past Did During Global Health Crises’. It’s a thing we all say all the time – “I’m just making it up as I go along” – but it feels like it’s never been truer than right now, during All This. 

So what do you do when you’re lost? You follow your instincts, you listen to others and you try to make the best of things. So that’s what we’ve been trying to do here at Middle Child during the last few months, and what we will keep doing as we move forward.

Both organisations and individuals are having to make impossible decisions throughout our sector, treading the line between staying afloat and offering hope. Teetering between crisis and optimism. Imagining how we can change the world while trying to make sure we’re around to be a part of it. In truth, it feels that there are no right or wrong answers to be found, only choices to be made. 

As for us, we’ve made the difficult decision to furlough our remaining core staff from Friday 29th May until at least the first week of August, meaning a temporary pause on our public-facing activity for the first time in our nine-year history. We’re going to be going quiet for a bit so we can come back and make more noise long into the future. It’s not an easy decision and it comes with a sense of guilt and shame – should we be doing more? Should we be more innovative? More creative? Possibly. Or perhaps we should have gone quiet a long time ago, when All This first started. Then there’s the unavoidable question of privilege. There’s absolutely no doubt we’re in a privileged position, even being able to take a pause and take advantage of the government’s furlough scheme. Sadly, there’s a privilege in even being able to think about the future. We know that and we feel the weight of that. But the choice we’ve made is to use that privileged position to ensure we’re able to pay artists and employ freelancers long into the future. 

We have made this choice because what we do best involves people being together. Whether it’s the shows themselves, our artist development programme, our theatre library or our various social events, our reason to exist is to bring people together in a physical space to think about what it means to be human. We’ve always prioritised liveness at our events, seeing theatre as a social event – a rare opportunity to fully be together in an increasingly digital world. And naive as it may be, we’re not rushing to compromise on that just yet.  There are many brilliant companies who make incredible digital work. We are not one of them. And so we’re taking this privileged opportunity to stop. To think, reflect and hold. To not rush and to listen to what the world and the communities we work with need now. 

But I should be clear – this is not a complete stop for our company. For while our core staff go on furlough, Middle Child’s preparation for the future continues. We’re putting money into artists pockets and faith into their ideas, giving them time and space to imagine the theatre they want to make in future. Because we will come back. And when we do we’re going to make sure we’re taking risks on the new, the progressive, the unknown. Because where we’re going there’s no doubt we’re going to need ideas, we’re going to need fire and fight and passion and politics. We’re going to need artists, actors, producers, stage managers, designers, technicians, and all of the other freelancers that make this industry great. Because for us, right now, that feels like all we can do. Having lost our two major projects this year we’re reclaiming 2020/21 as a year to do what we can in the short-term in order to be able to take a breath and listen to what people need in the long-term. 

So what does this mean for us practically? What did we do in a pandemic? What are we planning to do next? Take a look at the below – presented without comment and see what you think, and remember we followed our instincts and made it up as we went along. Maybe one day in the future this blog post can be featured on a crisis management Buzzfeed article for ADs of the future to critique and contemplate.

Things We Did In The Short Term

• We cancelled/postponed our new show There Should Be Unicorns.
• We cancelled/postponed our tour of The Canary and the Crow.
• We’ve setup this open access Dropbox folder containing useful resources for companies and individuals.
• We pushed a 2021 project into 2022 but increased the commission size from under 70 minutes to over 70 minutes, increasing the scale and ambition.
• We posted an archive recording of both All We Ever Wanted Was Everything and Us Against Whatever.
• We released Us Against Whatever on Spotify.
• We created a DIY panto for people to do at home.
• We setup a GoFundMe, inspired by Luke Barnes, which – thanks to the kindness of friends and strangers – raised £6,520 for Hull freelancers who’s income was affected by Covid-19. 
• We scheduled eight free Zoom Q&A’s on various aspects of theatre making and production.
• We honoured the contracts of freelancers, making sure we fully paid those who were already working with us.
• We furloughed our staff and agreed to top their wages up to 100%
• We created a Mental Health while on furlough policy, which made a number of pledges to furloughed staff
• We cancelled our scheduled Acting Gym workshops, deciding to wait until we can do them face-to-face rather than putting them online.
• We ran two online pub quizzes.
• We carried on writing music for our new show virtually.
• We moved our Concrete Retreat Writer Residency programme and offered everyone involved early payment in full if required, as well as giving them the option to use their £200 research fund to pay themselves if they were in need.
• We posted Tom Wells’ brilliant writers exercises online for free.
• We commissioned a number of writers to write a short 10-minute response to the current situation, to be performed in-person when it is safe to do so at an event called Our Radical Future.
• We moved rehearsals for Out Loud – our scratch night with our resident company, Silent Uproar – online, with the event being broadcast live on Radio Humberside. We paid all of the actors and writers to take part.
• Along with Hull Truck and RTYDS we worked with Annabel Streeton on the first part of her directing placement, focusing on everything you do before you get into a rehearsal room.
• We pondered digital output and decided that’s not what we’re good at.
• We opened our submission window and asked writers to submit an existing piece of writing so we can get to know new people.
• We hired a team of local artists to read scripts for us.
• We put aside a pot of money as a development fund for people we meet through that submission window.
• We invested time in the things we always say there isn’t enough time to do. 
• We tidied the Google Drive.
• We worked on an action plan and family friendly working policy with PIPA (Parents In the Performing Arts).
• We contributed in a small way to the New Diorama’s brilliant North Star project, helping individuals with their first-time funding applications.
• We developed our Mental Health Policy and our Working from Home policy.
• We created a fundraising strategy for the future.
• We finally became a charity.
• We talked with and listened to local artists and freelancers.
• We talked with and listened to our founding members as we do all we can to ensure Middle Child comes out of this okay.
• We talked with and listened to other local organisations in the Cultural Collisions working group to share best practice and plan for the future
• We talked with and listened to the Arts Council and our brilliant relationship manager.
• We watched digital theatre and chatted about it with local artists and freelancers.
• We commissioned writers to develop a treatment for a future idea.
• We commissioned writers to begin developing a full show for us at some unknown point in the future.
• We decided not to apply for the Arts Council’s Emergency Fund.
• We had a board meeting on Zoom.
• We welcomed a new board member from a finance background.
• We re-forecasted each of our budgets for the next four years.
• We paid the Roaring Girls a day rate to organise a Hull theatre-sector meet-up to discuss the ongoing situation.

Things We Want To Do In The Long Term

• We want to listen better to understand how we can work together to build a better industry after All This is over
• We still want to champion and commission the new, the progressive, the unknown
• We want to continue to ‘take risks’ and not rely on the established or the traditional
• We don’t want to close ranks
• We want to adapt what needs to be adapted and protect what needs to be protected
• We want to better serve our local community of artists and audiences, and listen to what they need now rather than make assumptions
• We want to re-open our building but only when it is safe to do so
• We want to relaunch our projects but only when it is safe to do so
• We want to work out what our function is in the post-COVID world and how we can spend public money in the best way possible
• We will check our privilege
• We want to do what we can to support other arts organisations and individuals in need.
• We will continue to fight for a fairer and more representative industry
• We’ll make sure our audiences and artists are kept up to date with our plans to return, as we hope to be able to bring us back together with a collection of new commissions from a number of brilliant writers imagining Our Radical Future.
• (We cannot wait for that day and to see you all again soon.)

So there it is. A list of what we did, and what we hope to do in future. There’s also an invisible list there somewhere of the things we didn’t do. 

I want to reiterate a few things. 

As a company, we’ve done what we think is right at this moment, and are in no doubt that the rest of our sector is doing the same. But it’s worth recognising that there are no easy answers here and we’re all having to hope that our best is good enough as we move into an unknown future. Our best is prioritising putting money in artists’ pockets and faith in artists’ ideas, because there’s one thing we’re certain of – we’ll be back, and we’ll be ready for the fight.

(While we’re away we’ve repurposed our What’s On page to include everything that’s available digitally. Check it out here)

Fiona Hope, board member

Last year I was given the amazing opportunity to join the board of trustees for Middle Child. I had lots of chats with artistic director Paul and executive director Lindsey about what it means to be on the board and the kind of responsibilities that entails, but I still wasn’t entirely sure what to expect walking into the first meeting.

Being only nineteen, with little professional experience, it was extremely daunting walking into a room of such incredible talent, but I was so quickly taken under everybody’s wing and shown that my view as a young person was so important to the company. Middle Child are all about developing young artists in Hull and one of their target audiences is people aged between 18- 34, which is a demographic I fit into and can hopefully share insight to.

Over the past few years I’ve begun to develop my understanding of how theatre works behind the scenes, as my ambition is to start a theatre company once I graduate from university. Previously I had only experienced the creative side of theatre, such as performing and directing. However joining the board for Middle Child has let me learn about running a company in a hands-on way, as well as mean I can give back to the company.

Conversations in board meetings have included talking about the goals and targets set by the company and what steps are being taken to grow and develop, such as how funding is applied for and used, and what they are doing to reach audiences and develop artists. These meetings have taught me about different bands of funding, audience engagement methods and how to not just keep a company running, but also be innovative and successful.

In particular, before attending a meeting I had no idea about finance and production but Rozzy, who is Lindsey’s maternity cover, went over everything so calmly and in detail, which was so useful and beneficial. Some of the things I have learnt about are fundraising, Arts Council applications, budgeting and cashflow forecasts. With Middle Child having been awarded NPO status Paul and Lindsey also explained what this means for funding and why the board is so crucial in maintaining this status.

Since joining the board, I have directed a show for a local theatre company She Productions, had a show at the Edinburgh fringe festival and completed some smaller projects at University. My experience on the board of trustees definitely helped me with these projects as I have a better understanding of the wider picture of theatre making and how to resolve some production issues should they arise, such as where sacrifices need to be made for the sake of the budget. I am still learning so much every meeting and am so grateful for the experience that I know I will use in the future to develop my career in theatre. 

After a hugely successful first scratch night last month, held in partnership with Silent Uproar and supported by Richard Bean, Out Loud returns on Saturday 9 May.

This time the sharing will take place upstairs at Hull Truck Theatre, as part of this year’s Grow Festival and ahead of our homecoming performance of The Canary and the Crow.

Free tickets for the night will go on sale nearer the time, but in the meantime we need writers and, once again, we are looking for four fifteen-minute excerpts to perform script-in-hand.

Anything goes form and content-wise, but we are particualrly interested in stories about Hull and the north. We can only accept scripts that can be performed by no more than four performers.

How to apply

Please send a sample of no more than 10 pages of your script to jamie@middlechildtheatre.co.uk before 10am on Monday 23 March.

Names will be removed from scripts and passed to Middle Child artistic director, Paul Smith, and Silent Uproar artistic director, Alex Mitchell, to be read anonymously.

All applicants will hear whether they have been selected or not by Friday 24 April.

• See who was selected for the first night, in January