Interview with my Colleagues

Interview with my Colleagues: Skylar Thornton

I worked for Metta Theatre in summer of 2022. The theatre has two employees, P Burton-Morgan and William Reynolds. It was created seventeen years ago when both were attending university. Reynolds and Burton-Morgan are joint artistic directors and chief executives. Each person holds different roles for the company. Reynolds deals with more technician and stage work. He creates set designs, lighting, and videos for their YouTube and productions. Burton-Morgan writes and directs shows for the theatre. They also manage financials, bookings, and touring information. The daily tasks change for each person due the fact that they run their own company. Reynolds works on spreadsheets daily and can change tasks quickly. He can change tasks from spreadsheets to beginning the set designs for upcoming shows. Burton-Morgan balances the social media on the daily, along with directing rehearsals. They have a wide range of tasks throughout each day. According to Burton-Morgan, it takes a lot of emotional resilience to be an entrepreneur. They offered advice for future artists in the field and said that our line of work is “relentless and unforgiving” but to “keep going, and also don’t be afraid to walk away from it,” (Burton-Morgan). It sounds counterintuitive. Yet, the rigorousness of the industry sharpens our skills and should not scare away any future artists. Even Burton-Morgan admitted “throwing in the towel” every now and again. Having a strong support system, like their husband, keeps them going. Another key element is passion. The of the biggest reasons why Reynolds and Burton-Morgan chose theatre was because they wanted to impact people’s lives for the better. Reynolds wants to offer assistance to making theatre more green and Burton-Morgan wants stories to inspire future generations. Based on the interview I had with my colleagues, I would like to continue my work in the field of theatre. This opportunity has allowed me to shift my focus from being broad within my field of study to more specific qualifications for my future career.

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P Burton-Morgan

William Reynolds

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Skylar: “What are your names?”

P Burton-Morgan: “P Burton-Morgan”

William Reynolds: “William Reynolds” 

Skylar: “What is your current role/job title?”

PBM & WR: “ We are joint Artistic Directors and Chief Executives of Metta Theatre (a midscale touring theatre company based in Somerset, UK)”

Skylar: “What do each of your roles involve?”

PBM: “Between the two of us we conceive, programme and produce all Metta productions, which tends to mean one UK tour a year and maybe 2 or 3 commissions / workshops developing new projects.”

WR: "Plus I’m the resident designer so I design the set, lighting and (where we use it) video for the productions. I’m also an environmental sustainability consultant for Metta Green (a branch of Metta Theatre) so I also work with other arts organisations to help them reduce their carbon footprints and become more sustainable.”

PBM: “And I’m a writer/director so I write and direct all the Metta productions. Plus I do the tour booking and venue relationships and fundraising.”

WR: “And I do all the budgeting and financial management.”

PBM: “We’re also married with two kids, so we also have two full-time roles as parents but that’s not strictly Metta-Theatre-related (though the kids do love coming to rehearsals!) …”

Skylar: “What are the daily responsibilities for the theatre?”

WR: “Every day is different. I could be building a model box for the set design of our next musical, or drawing up a lighting plan. And then editing a budget, producing management accounts for our board of trustees or negotiating with a venue over a co-producing deal.”

PBM: “Yes and I could be in rehearsals, or I could be deep in rewrites, with the odd email or WhatsApp to a venue seeing if they want to co-produce one of our future shows (before I hand that over to Will to deal with the financial details.)”

WR: “Sometimes the team is just us and maybe a lucky intern (like Skylar) so we’re doing everything ourselves, but with no management responsibilities and at other times (during productions) we’re managing teams and departments of up to 50 freelancers and simply holding all of that together is the work.”

PBM: “There really is no typical day for us, is there?”

Skylar: “How long have you been with Metta Theatre?”

PBM & WR: “We founded the company together in 2005, back when we were both still students at University so that’s… 17 years.”

Skylar: “What led you to pursue this role, and the professional field more generally?”

PBM: “I knew I wanted to go into theatre professionally from before I went to Uni so I dragged Will along with me. And then after Uni he studied design at the world renowned (and now sadly no longer running) design school Motley.”

WR: “Yes I probably would have gone into sustainability and climate justice sooner if I hadn’t fallen into theatre.”

PBM: “Ah, so I actually pulled you away from your true purpose. Oops. Still at least you’ve come back to it now, with Metta Green. And now we can use all the skills and experience we’ve gained in theatre to support that work.”

WR: “But we do both believe in the transformative power of the performing arts and live theatre to effect social and political change. That was what inspired us to found the company.”

PBM: “Yes and to provide a platform for unheard voices and stories.”

WR: “Amazing really that we had such clear sense of our company vision and purpose back when we were 20 years old.”

PBM: “Although has taken almost two decades to realise a lot of that vision.”

Skylar: “What sort of skills are required for your job?”

PBM: “Running a company takes a huge amount of emotional resilience. There’s no support network like you get when you work for an existing organisation. You have to be your own support network.”

WR: “Luckily we have each-other.”

PBM: “We do. Also you need to be exceptionally organised, comfortable leading large numbers of people, self-sufficient and resourceful, have brilliant time management skills and a limitless source of both new ideas and confidence in your own abilities.”

WR: “Not everyone has to be you though… I’d say you could run your own company without having all of that, and then recognise where your skills gaps are to find others to come on board with you.”

Skylar: “What advice would you give someone looking to pursue a similar role?”

PBM: “Our industry is relentless and unforgiving, and even more so if you’re running your own company so be kind to yourself. Keep going, and also don’t be afraid to walk away from it. I know those are two conflicting statements. But our industry is really tough so sometimes the right decision is to walk away. Equally, because our industry is really tough, you also have to just keep the faith and keep chugging away.” 

WR: “It’s certainly not a fast track route to success. Running your own company is definitely a slow burn, so if you’re impatient and want overnight success you may be disappointed.”

PBM: “I’m impatient and want overnight success but even after 17 years of glowing 5 star reviews and standing ovations there are still venues and organisations who won’t even give us the time of day.”

WR: “So don’t be disheartened in the face of failure. Or even just in the face of silence.”

PBM: “Also be kind to everyone else you meet - our sector is small. Today’s administrators or assistants (or interns) will be tomorrow’s CEOs and Artistic Directors. What goes around comes around. Eventually.” 

WR: “And on a boring note - if you know you have those skills gaps then try and surround yourself with others, maybe as a board of trustees, to support you.”

Skylar: “Best moment in your job?”

PBM: “When audiences come up to us and say it was the best thing they’ve ever seen and/or it’s changed their life. We have at least one of those experiences on every show and it really buoys you up when you’re in the depths of writing a funding application or in some mid-project-crisis.”

WR: “When the show has finally reached the point where it’s fully realised - you’ve ironed out all the problems in previews and it’s the best version of itself.”

PBM: “Except we never reach that stage because we’re perfectionists so there’s always more we could do with longer creation time / more resources.”

WR: “Yes but you’re very good at making peace with how far it's possible to take something and accepting that.”

PBM: “I think we’re both are.”

Skylar: “Where is your company/work headed in the next five years?”

PBM: “The West End. Then Broadway. Then maybe turning some of our musicals into films, so I guess Netflix. Hollywood? World domination.”

WR: “And for Metta Green - I guess to have better established the consultancy work, not just across the arts sector, but more broadly in other sectors.”

PBM: “So also environmental sustainability consultancy world domination.”

WR: “I think that’s a contradiction in terms.”

Skylar: “What is something from your work you didn't expect to see, find out, or have to do?”

WR: “I never signed up for all these budgets.”

PBM: “Yes, but you do love a spreadsheet.”

WR: “That’s true.”

PBM: “Sometimes I’ll go downstairs at 11pm wondering where Will is, and he’s just there poring over another spreadsheet.”

WR: “Also true.”

Skylar: “What are you doing when you're not at work?”

PBM: “Will is still looking at spreadsheets! The thing about running a company with your partner and working from home most of the time is that it’s easy for work and life to merge together. In a totally unhealthy and un-boundaried way.”

WR: “Yes, but I have my gardening.”

PBM: “That’s really your vocation, even more than theatre. And I knit… though often I’m knitting something for a show like a puppet, so that’s still work.”

WR: “Oh and there’s our other full time job as parents.”

PBM: “Yes though we rope the kids in too - they’re old enough to mop the stage. And during the first lockdown we roped them in to making parody videos of our previous shows.”

Skylar: “Who is your hero? A fellow artist you admire and inspire you?”

WR: “Paule Constable - a visionary lighting designer and a powerful advocate for environmentally sustainable theatre practices from way before it became a ‘trendy’ thing to be.”

PBM: “Jeremy Sams - a wonderful writer and director who is the only other artist I know (besides myself) who works at a high level across opera, theatre and musical theatre and as both a writer and a director. Proof that it’s possible! Also a kind and generous soul, and great mentor to me.”

Skylar: “Why do you continually choose your job everyday? (What wakes you up in the morning?)”

WR: “Well some mornings we don’t and we think it’s finally time to throw the towel in.”

PBM: “But then we just keep going.”

WR: “It also helps that we both have thriving freelance careers so in spite of the myriad different roles and responsibilities we have running our own company we can also go off and ‘just’ be the designer or the director on something.”

PBM: “And then we can claw back some headspace to do all the Metta work.”

WR: “Or we come back with a new appreciation and gratitude for the creative (and relatively speaking financial) freedom we get when we produce our own work.”

PBM: “As to what wakes me up in the morning - besides my alarm - is the promise of creativity. The opportunity to tell new stories and create and produce them with the principles of kindness, inclusion and social justice that we care about, that’s actually very special and rare.”

WR: “Don’t forget climate justice.”

PBM: “Yes that too.”

WR: “But you’re right. We’re really lucky to have forged this vehicle for our artistic and political endeavours where we can live our purpose and bring joy to other people’s lives.”

PBM: “And to our own.”

WR: “And that it’s still going almost 20 years later.”

PBM: “Well done us!”

The Rhythmics - Theatre Green Book Case Study

At Metta, we use the Theatre Green Book as a guide for sustainability practices in our theatre productions. For our recent production of The Rhythmics, we had the chance to use the advanced standards in the Green Book. Through this process, we learned a lot and decided to share some of our learning with other people, creating a case study about how we used the advanced standards in the Green Book on this production. An excerpt from this case study is below.

What the Theatre Green Book does so brilliantly is to bring together all of the existing guidance, knowledge and best practice into a single, easy to follow resource - and that has laid bare how our industry has to fundamentally change the way that we think about making theatre. If you approach sustainability by trying to find like-for-like replacements for current materials choices and working practices then at best you'll find a very large cost increase, but more often than not you'll simply come up against a brick wall. But if you fundamentally change your thinking and consider sustainability from the outset, rather than as an add-on, it becomes considerably easier. That thinking needs to permeate how we make a production - from putting together the budget, engaging freelancers and conceiving the aesthetic, right through to planning what will happen at the end of run before you've even designed the set. It’s easy to only think about sustainability in relation to physical things like sets, but we need to consider the environmental impact of every aspect of the production, and how minimising that impact affects every part of the theatre making process.

To read the rest of this case study and to read other case studies about how theatre makers use the Green Book, you can go here: https://theatregreenbook.com/book-one-case-studies/

The Importance of Theatre Audiences

Why should theatre talk about the climate crisis?

Theatre, unlike other more abstract art forms, does not have the luxury of ignoring the realities of the world. In other art forms there is a separation between the artist and the audience, but in theatre audiences and actors come together to share something which creates a forum for thinking and learning. Done well, it reflects problems in our society, wishes for the future, and important messages back to the people who watch it. When theatre works, it makes people think about the world and feel something, driving its audiences to use this new knowledge and feeling to change themselves and the world.

Theatre also has a responsibility to its audience to not only give them entertainment, but to give them morals that can be taken with them when they leave. Because of this responsibility, it needs to talk about the things which threaten the reality of our world. One of these things is the climate crisis. There are countless statistics that can be called upon when talking about the climate crisis that paint a very terrifying picture. This is one of the reasons that people try to pretend that it doesn’t exist. Terror is paralysing and there is nothing more terrifying than the realities of the climate crisis. 

But theatre can’t afford to ignore the climate crisis. If we do, then it gives our audiences the opportunity to ignore it as well. And quite honestly, the Earth does not have the time for all of us to ignore it. If we want our children to live in the same world we grew up in, we have to continue to talk and make theatre about the climate crisis. We also must practise sustainability to show that it can be done without sacrificing the heart of the theatre we make. Because in a world filled with terrifying - and sometimes paralysing - statistics, our stories have the power to make fantastic change. 

But we are never going to be able to achieve much if we don’t come together to effect change. Theatre is a great art form to bring people together. But we need more than the support of the artists, we need the support of the most important people in the theatre making process: the audience. Audiences play the most crucial role in the theatre making process. Not simply as a passive observer, but as a member of society that can effect change in their own lives and the lives of others. This could be by planning about how to waste less food, or to use less energy, or to use your bike instead of taking a tube, or to donate money to charities which protect endangered species, or simply to spread the word about the climate crisis to those around you.

And you are not alone, all around London are reminders that practising sustainability is really important. On tube signs there are messages to waste less because it all goes to landfills, every day there are more people riding the tube than cars on the road, and theatre companies all over London now advertise what they are doing to fight against the climate crisis. What does that mean? When you are faced with weekly, maybe even daily reminders of the climate crisis, it becomes increasingly hard to ignore. If you are driving your petrol car to see a play about sustainability, maybe that inconsistency will give you pause. No one can be perfect all the time, but if we can all change our lives a little beyond what is easy, we can effect some real change. 

The realities of the climate crisis are grim, but by refusing to ignore it we have more hope of effecting change in the world than before. This is why our sector must double down on its commitment to sustainability and addressing the climate crisis through the stories we tell and the ways we choose to tell them. If we don’t change, and change drastically, then we will certainly lose the world we live in today. And that is the one thing that none of us can afford to lose. 

Lauren Silverstein (Metta Intern 2022)

This Ticking Clock

Why should theatre be engaging with sustainability?

In almost every single one of my college auditions in the United States, the interview portion contained at least one question: “Why do you want to be a part of a dying artform?”. Now, why do they consider theatre a “dying artform”? Is it because it’s not quite as popular as it used to be? It’s an interesting question; might be a bit of a bummer in an audition, but there’s a compelling point involved. Why be a part of a mode of entertainment that is being slowly dismissed from greater society? An even bigger question is what part is theatre playing in its own death? 

I believe we have a duty, as a theatrical community, to provide stories and emulate the reality of the world we are living in. We can’t hide behind frivolous portrayals of privilege and expect audiences to walk away feeling truly impacted. The stories we tell have meaning and purpose, and with that comes the opportunity to engage and educate on the current climate and ecological crisis. Theatre is a huge platform now for people, especially in the younger generation. The main reason theatre hasn’t been forgotten as an avenue of entertainment is because it is the only artform that provides a deeply personal and different experience each performance. Live theatre is not a set occurrence, it’s a constantly changing adventure that the performers and audience are sharing together. This provides a very clear opportunity. If a show has the ability to truly move people, to impact them in any way, it is crucial that it relays a message that is morally and politically aware. 

I’m an American intern, right? So bear with me for a moment as I talk briefly about something that has to do with America. In New York City, there is a constant countdown called, “The Climate Clock”. This clock calculates the general approximation of how much time we as a society have left to remedy the climate crisis before we reach a point of no return. As of right now, the clock stands at approximately 7 years. Now, that image is incredibly daunting; to walk past and watch the seconds tick away. You think to yourself, “What could I have done in those three seconds to make any sort of change?” The point is those 7 years, and specifically in this case, what theatre can do in those 7 years to work against that clock.

There are dangers to making meaningless theatre, and in many cases, performative theatre. We’ve reached a point in the 21st century where investing in shallow storylines that center around privilege and ignorance can be harmful and damaging to our audiences. It is crucial that we employ this avenue of empathy to relay real-world issues and promote sustainability if we have an opportunity to do so, because our audiences now demand it. But it’s not just about relaying messages of sustainability, it’s also about creating a sustainable work environment. We are so used to seeing shows on Broadway or the West End; getting dressed up, going out to dinner, and packing into taxis that take us to the theater, but that indulgence in itself increases the theatre’s carbon footprint exponentially. Touring can be a more sustainable artform when it comes to travel. By bringing one group of actors to perform a show at several locations, instead of bringing thousands of people via many differing modes of transportation, a company can significantly reduce its carbon footprint. However, it’s important to note that in any case, people are still traveling to performances whether it’s in their own state or across the country. What’s most important is making sure it's as easy as possible for audiences to reduce their carbon footprint when attending the theatre. What theatre companies can do is instead of putting immense amounts of raw materials and energy into making new sets, props, and costume pieces, they can reuse pieces from past performances.

We have to think about what message we’re sending when we perform. If our shows are finally relaying messages of sustainability, equality, and awareness, then the stages we perform on and the clothes we wear need to mirror and emulate those messages and values as well. It is essential that audiences see the progress and change that they want to see outside of the theatre, in the shows they’re putting their money into, both in content and production. So again, we address the question: “Why be a part of a dying artform?”. Because it needs us. Theatre is a perennial source of human connection that we either have the opportunity to utilize or neglect. Performance has the ability to influence and inspire people, and with that comes the responsibility to reflect truth on stage. The “truth”, is that time is not stopping; since the time I started writing this blog, the Climate Clock in New York has continued to decrease in value, and the climate crisis is still on the road to the point of no return. With these 7 years still left on the clock, we need to assess what we can do as a theatre community to advocate climate consciousness to our audiences, both on and off the stage. 

Sophie Friedman (2022)

Pain

Where does it hurt? Some thoughts on pain...

What has pain got to do with theatre? Nothing, except that the last two years have decimated our industry, outside of which our workforce is simultaneously grappling with the pain of grief, losing loved ones and losing so many of the small joys that give life meaning (although the latter are returning as the world opens up again). 

But this isn’t really anything to do with theatre. It’s just some collected thoughts on how to manage pain in a time where there’s more of it about. I suffer from back pain - mostly in my lower back (side note - I don’t know anyone who’s given birth to a child who doesn’t suffer lower back pain, apart from maybe my hardcore circus mum friends - damn you and your excellent core muscles) and have done since I was a teenager. It went from a periodic (and often period-related) issue in my teens and twenties to something more chronic after an emergency C-section (I mean they literally cut through your abdominal wall) and the unavoidable lifting involved in parenting young children. It has got progressively worse over the last 12 months (due to a bunch of circumstantial changes - as a director I am moving for most of the day, but in the absence of any directing work I have adopted the more traditionally sedentary lifestyle of all writers and my back is complaining because of it. 

Ironically moving out to the countryside (which we did during lockdown) means I do less walking in a day because instead of the 4 miles working to and from school twice daily that commute is now 30 seconds. Which is amazing, don’t get me wrong, but means I have to very actively create time to walk daily or I immediately start losing mobility in my spine.) It’s always worse in winter because the cold makes the muscles contract, so I have to expend a lot more energy on pain management (mostly applying heat, stretching in the morning, evening and increasingly throughout the day and using a massage gun to try and unwork some of the muscular tension in my hips that has accumulated over the day in a compensation for the slight curvature in my spine / weakened core.) Waking in pain, being in pain all day, and going to sleep in pain is a bit draining frankly - but I’m about to go into full time rehearsals again (for the first time in 2 years) which I can guarantee will improve things because the constant low-level physical activity will mean it’s in much better shape during working hours.

But as the back pain has got worse I have finally got much better at protecting my boundaries around it. People are generally more accommodating at adapting their behaviours in response to something visible. We see this all the time with the compassion and accommodation afforded someone whose relative has just died and is suffering with the pain of grief, but not with the millions of people who live with invisible mental health conditions that leave them suffering with the pain of despair, anxiety and existential struggle. The truth is that even the people who love you most in the world can forget that you are sometimes in constant pain. But the strange gift of chronic pain becoming constant chronic pain is that it becomes much easier to say no. Of course it’s still upsetting not to be able to lift your child - my 7 year old just asked if he could sit on my lap and I lasted 90 seconds before I had to ask him to get off. But the constancy of pain for me at least gives a much greater clarity around saying no and being at peace with that. This week we have had guests staying but beyond 9pm I need to be horizontal. In the past I would have just sat with it (literally) but now I just go to bed.

Some pains have an end-point - I am rarely floored by the pain of anxiety or depression or grief, not because I don’t experience them but because they are not (for me) a constant in my life, so I can wait it out until they are no longer colouring my reality with a dull greyness. The pain of being misgendered (especially by friends or family) is sharp but short-lived. Similarly the pain of social interaction - no party, no press night, no social interaction lasts forever (though I also highly recommend moving to a rural isolated village as an effective way of reducing social interaction if that causes you anxiety). I find pain with an end point far easier to endure than this chronic pain which can be managed to greater or lesser degrees but never eradicated. Despite knowing this the eternal optimist in me still welcomes everyone’s suggestions and recommendations (see below for what I’ve tried / found effective - feel free to share your own experiences and suggestions for pain management) but the key for me is knowing when to say no to the demands made on me by the rest of the world / work / children.

Which is I suppose how it all comes back to theatre - our famously unboundaried industry which is predicated on saying yes to everything, and in which the unhealthy culture of overwork and underpay is endemic. But alongside my optimism I am a realist. Our sector's unhealthy relationship to the capacity of its workforce is chronic. I don’t want to paint a bleak picture but I don’t think it’s something that can be healed. There is no end-point. So all we can do is take personal responsibility for our own boundaries and capacity and protect them as best we can. 

Even that is easier said than done - making work healthily in a chronically underfunded system simply means making less work, and with smaller companies - doing less. But of course the equally chronic oversupply or flood of talent wanting to make work is in direct tension with that. Compartmentalising one's working hours to maintain a healthier work life balance is also complicated if one has caring responsibilities that intersect with a working day - it’s the bane of many theatre parent’s lives that they are reprimanded for communicating during anti-social hours, but sometimes those are the only hours left. But it’s equally problematic for those maintaining their own boundaries to feel under pressure to respond at the evening or weekends. And it’s all well and good for me to advocate saying no (as someone privileged by being in leadership roles), but harder as an actor or other creative where there’s a legitimate fear that doing so will have negative repercussions on one's reputation and future employability. I just had a colleague, who’s highly respected within our industry, confess that they are recovering from chronic fatigue syndrome - but they rarely disclose that in case it affects people’s willingness to employ them. Of course Equity and the unions can continue their work in setting a baseline of healthy working conditions but that can never take account of the diversity of a given individual's needs within that system. 

The truth is we are all hurting, and probably all of us now more than in the ‘before times’. We can’t always account for the kindness of the world, but we can redouble our efforts in being kind to ourselves - in whatever way best helps relieve the respective pains in our own lives.

These thoughts are perhaps a little scattered. Ironically, but perhaps unsurprisingly, I am in pain right now (I would say a 4.5 out of 10) but I’d like to articulate these thoughts in some form, and people are still so reluctant to share these things, that it feels like a valuable use of my time.

Take care of yourselves.

(and if you want to pitch in with your miracle cures for back pain… see below)

My personal list of effective pain management techniques (predominantly for physical pain but also added benefits of relieving stress as well as muscular tension)

- mindfulness and meditation (doesn’t change the pain, but helps with the attitude towards it)

- stretching exercises, yoga, short walks, low-impact workouts (once when I was attempting to train for and run a half marathon my physio recommended bikram yoga to counteract the negative impact that running was having on my back - after 6 weeks they said my back was unrecognisable, in a good way, but alas the downside of living in a rural isolated village is the lack of proximity to a bikram studio)

- heat (electric blanket, hot water bottle, baths, hot tub, and any chance to get in steam room/sauna

- massage (though I did once have a practitioner who refused to work on my back because they said it was too dangerous. That wasn’t a happy day.)

- memory foam mattress and pillow (expensive but felt like a worthwhile investment)

- shakti mat (like a modern day bed of nails. In itself also intensely painful each time you use it, but I find it very effective in the evenings and helps me to relax the muscles enough to get to sleep more easily)

- hemp gel (also have found deep heat effective in the past)

- lying down in meetings (admittedly easier when it’s zoom and you can turn your video off, but I have definitely been known to lie down in rehearsals too… again perhaps easier when you’re the director...)

- acupuncture (expensive but my dad re-trained in acupuncture so now I get freebies)

My personal list of non-effective pain management techniques 

• Chiropractor (I found this moderately effective short term but too expensive to maintain)

• Osteopath (ditto)

• Pain killers - occasionally I’ll reach for the ibuprofen but not something I want to be taking every day

• Alcohol (effective short term but not really a viable lifestyle choice)

• Standing desk (good to try it but standing for long periods of time exacerbates my back pain… might work for other people though)

Part of the Process

It has been a longtime dream of mine to see my name appear during the ending credits of a film or TV show. Though I quickly realised as a child that I don’t quite have what it takes to be a performer, I still aspire to be part of the entertainment world even if the stage lights aren’t shining on me. Even being a part of the process would be enough for me.

I had the opportunity to be a part of the process as a violist playing under the stage of my high school’s musicals. To be a part of the process as a ticket reservationist at my local theatre. And, at Metta Theatre, I was ready to be a part of the process as the Marketing and Arts Admin intern. Throughout this internship, I got a chance to manage some of the marketing for Metta Theatre’s The Rhythmics, HouseFire, and In The Willows. Despite having to work virtually with the six-hour time difference, I sincerely enjoyed being close to the work all the way from Minnesota, USA. From content creation to social media management to finding stock footage for HouseFire’s Miles and Miles music video, I liked being able to point out something from Metta Theatre on the web and say “I helped make that!”

In my career journey, I have had my doubts about how much of a part marketing can really play, and if it would be worth it for me. Thankfully, my time at Metta Theatre has helped me realise the importance of communication and having the power to generate excitement from old, current, and new audiences. I believe this whole experience has fuelled my passion for working in media and entertainment in a business/marketing role. As Metta Theatre board member Emma Martin (Freelance Marketing Consultant) wisely told me, “you have to love the thing you are selling” and I really loved the musicals I got to work with. I see it as an honour to be leaving my internship with a new enthusiasm for the arts & marketing and to be leaving with skills that’ll put me one step closer to my childhood dream - to be able to see my name scroll by on screen one day.

Christine J. Choi (Marketing Intern 2020)

When The World Tips

It was a difficult year. For all the obvious reasons. But 2020 was also a year in which I was laid low a number of times by a chronic health condition called BPPV which I've had for the last decade. I nearly wrote ‘suffered from’ but on a good day the suffering side of it is always up for grabs. What's this got to do with theatre? Nothing. What's this got to do with how to navigate uncertainty, the seas of which we're all afloat on and may remain so for a while yet? Hopefully quite a lot. 

A brief explanation of BPPV or Benign Paroxysmal Positional Vertigo (even the name is dizzying, right?) for those of you lucky enough never have to encountered it. It's similar to Labrynthitis, which more people have heard of, and is an inner ear / balance disorder the primary symptoms of which are dizziness and nausea (friends who want to understand more READ THIS.) As I type this it's just come back in only one ear, my left, which means I can function pretty much normally. When I move my head at certain angles I'll have a wave of dizziness and nausea but if I return to an upright position it settles pretty quickly and I can still go about my day in a functional way. If that sounds a little dry and robotic it’s because when my health is compromised I revert to a kind of utilitarian calculus of ‘functionality’ in order to survive. Anything unnecessary, or which I no longer have the physical or emotional resource to realise falls away. 

I've had maybe 4 or 5 bouts of BPPV in one ear at a time this year - I take magnesium (which supposedly helps) and perform the Epley manoeuvre (a series of head movements that repositions the tiny crystalised bit of ear stuff that causes the problems, which definitely helps, though it does make me want to vomit) once a day and it tends to go away after a week or two. But sometimes it's more acute. 

In November, I felt the world tip and I was out for 3 weeks. In the first few days I tried to soldier on and sat through a few excruciating zoom meetings, but I quickly realised that was deeply unhelpful for my body so then I just stopped. Obviously the last year has given us all many opportunities to pause, to stop, to rest and that is a gift of sorts, of course, but it’s also bloody hard to do when you have two small children. That said children are a great reminder that you’re enough, even when you’re lying inert in bed (but sat up, because prolonged lying in bed is bad for the ear crystals!) Because even lying inert in bed you can still tell them you love them. And in the end that’s all they really need. They don’t care that you’ve missed your deadlines or had to cancel all your meetings. And, maybe because I preach the mantra of acceptance at them morning noon and night, they accept each new situation (both of my health and of the wider pandemic) very easily with grace and equanimity. In many ways they were gentler and more loving in those 3 weeks than they were at any other point last year, in part because they weren’t in a fight with reality about it.

After I had stopped fighting reality myself; rescheduling the deadlines and forgiving myself for cancelling on everyone I could start on the acceptance too. Matilda Leyser has just written (as ever) utterly brilliantly on how acceptance isn’t a passive thing but an active robust muscle. So along with starting PE with Joe again, I’m using 2021 to strengthen my acceptance and gratitude muscles. There’s no silver bullet to an ongoing health condition like BPPV (or indeed global pandemic) that can leave you incapacitated for weeks, or in 2011 months, at a time. But the physical symptoms are much easier to bear if you can meet your body where it is. And that doesn’t mean ignoring all the negative shit, I also try to meet my heart and mind where it is, sometimes crying, sometimes raging - all states are acceptable and accepted. Did it matter, really matter, that all those things got postponed or that I didn’t show up for a board-of-trustees zoom-away-day for a charity I sit on? No. It was fine. Were there other gifts in that time - silence, stillness, a greater appreciation of nature, 3 weeks of gentleness from my otherwise aggressive gun-obsessed children? Yes. And even if some days the fatigue was too great to write things down (turns out the energy required for your brain to constantly reassure your body that it’s not falling over creates mega fatigue) I could still maintain a gratitude practice of sorts, holding a few things in my mind each day that I was grateful for. There will always be something. 

Another gift of BPPV is that it's provoked these thoughts and words which might, I hope, be of some solace to someone somewhere reading this in the throes of physical, emotional or existential pain. Otherwise known as 2021.

People who know my characteristically productive (or perhaps compulsively over achieving) self well will laugh that I've even turned a long term health condition into an act of creative productivity. But that’s how creative human beings make sense of the world, turning shit into compost, fashioning meaning from chaos, transforming darkness into light.

When the world tips things fall. And fall away. We can use our energy to fight that (and lose) or use your energy, and it does require energy, to accept. And some days even celebrate. Like many creatives my work (and seemingly my body) follows a cycle of famine and feast - I’m sure there are healthier ways to live, but habits are hard to break. So in the meantime when the world tips again, I’m going to try and heed that invitation to slow down. To simply meet each day where it is, and where I am. And let things fall.

Happy new year everyone, wherever you are with yourself.

P Burton-Morgan