Art Is The Light At The End Of The Tunnel

Since it is Love Arts Festival at the moment, a festival looking at arts, mental health and wellbeing, it seems appropriate to come clean about what has been/is going on with me.

I think as an artist no-one will mind if I say I have been in a dark place recently. A place, like a cross between a hamster wheel and a dark tunnel, a relentless place filled with anger, despair and self-loathing. But as an artist I think many of you will understand when I say that it is mainly due to my art (and the support of friends and my incredible Mother) that I am beginning to pull myself out and feel like myself again, which just makes me even more grateful that I have made it a big part of my life.

Going to Devoted and Disgruntled, at the beginning of the month, felt like being in a war zone. It was too much all at once. Too many people, too much noise, too much choice. I wanted to be there but I wasn't, really. I spent all morning resisting the urge to run away. The pains in my chest were near constant and I felt sick. I stayed because I wanted to support the event itself. I had been looking forward to it for so long. But I was removed and I little numb and got very little out of it as a result.

Since then I've been making plans and rehearsing for One - getting my funding from Arts Council England was a massive boost, although even that felt like more pressure than I could handle, initially - I went back to High Spirits, a local choir, and I took part in an open call for community singers to be on the Hope and Social album. These were all good things (singing really is one of the most joyful things you can do) that were incredibly emotionally draining, just to find the strength to get there in the first place, but each one made me feel more like someone I actually recognised and liked. Me. 

I've been doing The Reservation again this week (more dates to come) and that has been tough. Don't get me wrong I am immensly proud of The Reservation and I want to do it but... I suppose I knew it would be tough. A 14 hour day is tough at the best of times but when you have been off work for the best part of a month it's a really BIG investment of time and energy. As soon as I was finished on day one I was overwhelmed by relief and a flood of emotions. Not because it was too much but BECAUSE IT MATTERS. I had been so afraid that I couldn't get through it and I hadn't even realised how scared I was. But I did get through it, I enjoyed it, and day two was even better. Today I have the post-performance blues, but I always get those so I'm not too worried.

I have never looked in to art therapy, I suppose I have always just naturally had that in my life without thinking about it as such, but having recently felt the specific benefits of the sanctuary of the creative brain space I can see why so many people think it is so important. According to Love Arts “One in four of us will experience a mental health problem in our lifetime”. That seems like a lot to me.

This is only one of many things I am doing to improve my own mental health, including reducing my caffeine (for the anxiety attacks), looking in to meditation and natural remedies (for the sleep issues) and most importantly talking to someone who can help. The next stage will be returning to work, which terrifies me but thanks to all this I am building up stronger defences to make it manageable at least. I have to keep reminding myself, this is just a difficult patch. I am lucky that I am not someone who suffers ongoing clinical depression. And I will, of course, be continuing with my art and doing all I can to make that the highlight of each week. To say it has kept me alive is a slight exaggeration, but only slight, and I am grateful to have had the access to it and the ability to use it. I'm sure there are many who don't.

My One And Only?

So I've been talking to a couple of people about the state of the arts recently; about the fragility of local government funding and venues within larger organisations with differing agendas none of which bodes well for the future of regional arts.

People have also been talking to me about the ethics of public money paying our wages when the public don't want most of what we do. Especially when it is being held up by the government as an either/or option. I mean really, who is going to choose art over hospitals or emergency services? I wouldn't.

And now I feel... Pretty depressed. No, not just depressed, scared. I'm afraid that after waiting so long to do this I have left it too late - by about a decade. The moment has passed. The optimism is gone. The money pot has dried up.

OK, so funding is not a right. I accept this. I don't need to make buckets of money. And in fact I never really wanted to. I would be happy to just cover my bills and have a little spending money (which, let's face it, I would mostly spend on going to the theatre and socialising with my theatre mates). And the lack of it shouldn't stop me from making work. I hope it won't but with no funding to support making the work and fewer and fewer venues it's starting to look pretty bleak.

Because the thing is I am alone. This isn't just a device for the show. Unlike many who make theatre I do not have a supportive partner at home bringing in a second wage, rich parents, my own home or any kind of external financial support structure... And I begin to wonder if I am a fool to even think about trying to do this at this time. It's a pretty terrifying thought, if I am honest.

Will this show be my one and only?