Blog: My Access/An Archive

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So after my first blog post, I thought it might be a good idea to explain why I'm passionate about access for lack of a better word. I didn't think I would do it so soon but with the lockdown causing fairly substantial changes to the way that people can access art and dance specifically in this time, I found myself thinking more and more about my own journey in the arts and the points in my life where I've had access and the points where I’ve experienced challenges or barriers.

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My parents have always been extremely supportive and encouraging. They're the type of parents who not only listened when I talked endlessly about things I found interesting or exciting, but they would ask questions and encourage me to ask questions; the fostered my curiosity, my imagination and my ability to think critically, which is something that I've carried with me throughout my life. Sadly, not every child has this level of engagement, which is why it's important to mention and even more important to have external or extracurricular arts activities for them to access.

My family would tell you that I've always been quite a performer I would make them all get up and sing along to my nursery rhymes, but my first real experience performing was when I was about 3 and started going to dance classes. Every Saturday morning I'd be excited to go to dancing but what really ignited my passion for dance was the end of year shows. I have really vivid memories of the dressing rooms in the old Gardyne Theatre. The smell of hairspray will always take me back to that place.

The buzz.

standing behind the curtain hearing the chatter of the audience waiting for it to go up

the nerves and excitement in the a t m o s p h e r e

The tears and drama if you made a mistake

catching the glint of my dad's massive penny rounders in the dark audience

the electricity and elation coming off-stage and wanting to do it all again when it was over

I was hooked.

But we were pretty poor, particularly growing up, and it wasn't cheap. If it wasn't for my Gran taking us every Saturday, and paying for our uniforms, term fees and exams then I don't think I'd be here writing this blog post. I carried on dancing until I was about 13/14 and in that time I'd been awarded medals and certificates for passing my BATD exams for tap, ballet, disco and modern. If I'd have stayed on for another few years I would have started working towards my BATD teaching qualifications but by that time I was going out with my school friends and dancing wasn't cool anymore. I think it's amazing that a dance school giving young people certifications in dance was thriving in the city, and I'm lucky to have been able to go. But for anyone whose family couldn't afford to pay, this opportunity was a closed door. I know it's quite common for young people to pick up and drop different hobbies as their interests change, but the link between anti-social behaviour and lack of free activities etc is also well documented. 

Another really big point of access for me was school. I started learning the violin in primary 4 and through that, I started going to orchestra at the Bell Street Music Centre after school. In high school, I took both art and music, and the music department also had a lot of extracurricular activities to take part in which I did. There was samba band, rock band and I even remember a trip to see the Royal Scottish national orchestra; which was the first time I'd ever heard Mahler's 5th - still my favourite piece of classical music. They both gave me a lot of skills that I still use today in my own artistic practice. The Cultural Learning Alliance’s 4th briefing paper, The Arts in Education, notes that learning through the arts can improve attainment in Maths and English citing a 17% increase in cognitive abilities. Particularly, children from low-income families were 3 times more likely to get a degree when engaging in the arts in an education setting and taking part in arts activities at home in their early years saw children ahead in reading and maths by age 9.


However, it was in school that I first encountered this idea that the arts wasn't a 'real job'. This is where I think socioeconomic circumstances come into play. My teacher with the best of intentions questioned whether picking multiple art subjects was a good idea and that perhaps I should pick more sciences. I can understand they were doing this with my future in mind and they didn't want me to limit my options when applying to University however I can't help but wonder if this would have happened if I'd gone to a more affluent/private school. The arts have a reputation for being quite elitist; a view I've come across from people both in and outwith the industry. And while I think that the arts is becoming more accessible for working-class people, there are still some substantial barriers that you have to overcome, particularly if you want a career in it. My theory is that this is a big contributing factor in the disconnect between the arts and the general population. As I look back through my journey there are times where I've been asked if a career in the arts was really the best idea, there have been times when I've even questioned it myself. There are times where I've attended performances or art exhibitions and felt really out of place and/or didn't connect with the work because I thought it was quite pretentious. The reason why I bring this up is because through my research so far, it's apparent how big the disconnect between the type of artistic content on offer and the tastes of the wider population. How can we expect people to be engaged and invested in the arts if we are not giving them something to grab onto?


I stumbled across the NQ Dance course at the Scottish School of Contemporary Dance at D&A College after working full-time for a year while I figured out what I wanted my future to look like (I never did, and still haven't really). I hadn't danced in ages so it was a bit of a reach and if the course wasn't in Dundee I probably wouldn't have applied at all. This is when the arts really opened up my creative world, there were so many opportunities to see performances by, and take class with professional companies and dancers. This is where I first encountered Tommy Small and Shaper/Caper. Crucially though, I didn't even know this course existed when I was in school. I know that there's a better link between The Space and the schools now, as this is where the secondary school dance course is taught, but dance was only just starting to appear in school curriculums and wasn't available in my school when I was there. I can't help but wonder about the level of training and technical ability that Scottish dancers could be graduating with if we had something similar to the CAT schemes south of the border.

As much as I was growing as a dancer and as an artist through my undergraduate degree, there were downsides too. It seemed that the more my world expanded artistically, the more I encountered doors that were closed to me. In such a competitive industry it's extremely advantageous (and expected of you) to attend classes/performances, support or teach classes, join youth companies etc; anything that will give you more experience. While we're lucky to have our tuition fees paid by SAAS here in Scotland, getting that extracurricular experience is extremely difficult if you also have to work to support yourself. And yeah sure, it is possible but it's exhausting. I found that even with the doors that were open to me, once I stepped inside and looked around the room I felt like the old one out in some of them. There was this creeping sense of imposter syndrome that grew within me. A feeling that I didn't belong here in this room, this world. This was really jarring for me because in these spaces I felt like 'one of the common folk' compared to everybody else but outwith the arts I was generally considered quite posh and well off - which was largely because of my involvement in the arts. I think people from working-class backgrounds have the mentality ground into them from an early age that they'll never amount to anything or achieve great things unless they work really hard, and maybe because the arts is seen as a typically more upper-class thing that you don't have to work hard at, the struggle that working-class artists have to face to keep up causes that self-doubt and feeling of disconnect?

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This feeling stayed with me as I moved down to Leeds to do my Master's in Choreography. It was the first year that SAAS started paying tuition fees for Master's courses and is the only reason I was able to apply. The MA course broadened my horizons even more than I could have possibly imagined. I learned so much from my amazing lecturers all of whom are still active in their respective fields and artistic practices. Even then, my student loan didn't cover the cost of living so I had to work and juggling both took a toll on my academic work and an even bigger toll on my mental health.

I can still feel the dread and relief after getting a card in the post from my Gran with £50 in it after I'd just spent a sleepless night and stressful morning looking into payday loans wondering how I was going to pay my bills that month. I can still feel the shame of applying for the uni hardship fund when my job wasn't enough to support me, knowing that I simply couldn't juggle any more hours even if they could give me them.

I remember seething as one of my classmates innocuously mentioned that they were able to quit their job and focused solely on their studies after getting some financial support from their family. I wasn't seething at them I don't even think I was jealous but I could feel tears welling up in the back of my eyes out of the sheer frustration of my own circumstances how I wished that was an option for me.


Once again my cultural and creative world was growing rapidly but so was my feeling of not belonging.


There was one instance where a mentor asked about my use of supermarket value-brand crisps in a piece I made. (They represented pawns and I had various branded items representing other chess pieces) Their point was that they would and do choose to buy value-brand crisps and it wasn't necessarily a bad or shameful thing; at the time their comment confused me, but on reflection, it occurred to me that the cringe/shame of finding those in your packed lunch as a kid was purely something they hadn't experienced often/strongly enough to make that link as I had. Choice is important. There's no shame in buying value items to save money, but not having the choice due to your financial circumstances is something I know a lot of people feel deeply shameful about, particularly with this 'rise and grind' hustle culture that's around just now.

At each of these moments, my mind sounded something like this:

Quit, just pack it in and go home

is this even worth it?

you're probably not going to make it anyway so what's the point in putting yourself through all this?

you're not like these people and you know it…

…even they know it

if you can't even manage to keep yourself going through uni how will you make it when you leave

it shouldn't be this hard

Over and over.

At each of these moments, out of tenacity (or sheer spite and stubbornness), I chose to keep going because I love it. Loved it; a lot of my passion and love had been drained along the way but there were glimpses that kept me going. The excitement in the studio when things start to come together, conversations with my classmates about work we'd seen that made me forget everything else around me.

There were a couple of things that lifted me out of this funk. For one of my last modules, we went to B-motion Festival in Bassano del Grappa. The number of people from all different walks of life, of all different ages and abilities coming together to watch, perform, discuss and celebrate dance was astounding. I was re-inspired. While I think the beautiful setting and arts festival atmosphere definitely played a part in this, being exposed to such a variety of performances and attending discussions is what brought me back to life.

It's funny, in one of the morning discussions we talked about vitality and what gives us vitality. Art does.

I made the decision to move back to Dundee after my MA. I knew I wouldn't be able to afford to live in Leeds or London without working full-time, and even though they had way more opportunities, to me it just wasn't worth it. I'd always intended to build my career in Scotland, particularly Dundee but now I also felt more of a responsibility to help grow the sector in Dundee, and I had a vehicle to do this. I joined Shaper/Caper's youth advisory board, The Body, before I started my MA and I'd been joining in digitally throughout my year in Leeds. The Body's monthly meetings discussing touring and creative learning work that Shaper/Caper were planning and doing, at a time in my own artistic journey where I was both learning and struggling so much, really helped me to understand that sense of responsibility and why I felt it.

I moved back and almost straight away began supporting participants at the Dance for Parkinson's class Shaper/Caper was delivering thanks to their call-out for Body members to volunteer. I moved back in with my parents so that I could work part-time in a bar whilst establishing myself/my career as a dance artist. In a city with a limited number of dance jobs, it was very easy to feel disheartened and I was just starting to lift out my mental slump, so the training I got through The Body and the freelance work I got from Shaper/Caper through my involvement in The Body really helped to keep me going. I primarily worked on Well Good, our main project exploring issues around health and smoking with p6-7 classes, and Ctrl_Shft. Ctrl_Shft was our dance and digital project that took place in Braeview, The Attic Lounge and Rossie Young People's Trust! I was offered a part-time producing role in the company for a short time before Shaper/Caper applied to The Rank Foundation's Time to Shine programme and after a successful interview, I am now working full-time for the company! Since I began working for Shaper/Caper, I've seen so many young people from similar backgrounds as myself, some facing way more challenging circumstances than I ever had to. I've seen them experience the same flashes of inspiration and amazement and joy through creativity/creative expression that I've experienced myself. I've seen our Dance for Parkinson's participants with the same mix of nerves and excitement before performing for the first time as I experienced myself at the Gardyne and their (albeit quieter) elation as they came off-stage and headed back to their dressing room.

That is why I'm passionate about this.

I didn't have many (free) opportunities to make dance films or use performance and creativity to learn about more serious subjects - but I did have some. Everyone should be able to access opportunities like these regardless of their age, ability, or socioeconomic status. Everyone should be able to enjoy the arts as a hobby, form of entertainment, or career.

Thomas SmallComment