Turning a little further, Young Vic Theatre, 2015

‘Imagine a woman up to her neck’ Samuel Beckett’s Happy Days did just that. But where would this woman go if she could move? What would this woman do if she was able to escape? Who is this woman if she is not Winnie?

This show was staged as part of what was, in 2015, Two Boroughs (now Neighbourhood Theatre) which I was running. Each piece was inspired by something we had playing concurrently in the main house, so that our shows in Taking Part were integral to the programming of the building. Happy Days, on at the start of 2015, is one woman’s story - so I wanted to use it as a starting point to tell more stories, of more women. Of women who, like Winnie, find themselves defined by something outside of their control. Women who chose to care for others when that meant their world shrank around them. The rubble piled higher. Up to the neck We engaged two groups of unpaid, female carers, one from each of the Young Vic’s two home boroughs of Lambeth and Southwark. With them we created movement and text which enabled us to imagine freedom and escape, and to describe the daily realities of life for these extraordinary, ordinary women. All of the movement was improvised by the cast which also included twelve local women who auditioned to be part of a core movement group, in sessions led by Coral Messam, whilst the text was generated by exercises led by performance poet Francesca Beard and dramaturged by myself and director Laura Keefe. The show was brought together into a joyous whole by Laura.

Carers save the UK government approximately £119 billion a year – that’s almost as much as the entire NHS budget. Their carer’s allowance in 2015 was £61.35 per week. The show was staged on the eve of the 2015 General Election and we wanted, collectively, to say something about the lives of these women who are affected, daily, by those in power but who are invisible except to those relying on them every hour of every day. No one knows them when they walk past on the street. If it is theatre’s job to tell the stories of a society, to tell us our stories of ourselves, then we wanted to tell those stories that we do not hear, do not know exist. We did not give anyone a voice, we simply allowed those voices to be heard.

It was a joy and a privilege creating this piece with these women, and to date a highlight of my career. It encapsulated the way I want to work: making care legible on stage via a care-filled process, making work which was inherently political, and powerful.

Every story told on stage was true. Every woman stood with many more behind her. This show was for all those women, keeping the world turning, one day at a time.

Conceived and Commissioned by: Lily Einhorn

Creative Producer and Dramaturg: Lily Einhorn

Director: Laura Keefe

Writer: Francesca Beard

Movement Director: Coral Messam

Designer: Fly Davis

Lighting Designer: Andy Purves

Sound Designer: Emily Legge

Reviews/Feedback

‘Words just cannot express my gratitude to you all for giving me such a wonderful experience to voice my story/experience as a carer. The show has given me a sense of self-worth and value to my life as a carer.’ Performer

‘I can honestly say this is one of the most breathtaking shows I have ever seen. I was left stunned afterwards, sitting in my seat unable to move. So beautiful and so meaningful. Please congratulate all the women involved.’ Audience member

Catherine Love writing on the show May 7th 2015 (here):

“We have not given anyone a voice,” insists the short programme note, “we have simply allowed those voices to be heard.” And that’s the sense you get from the piece, which is filled with this wonderful, poignant, ecstatic cacophony of voices. It’s also properly beautiful – all glitter and soft coloured light and flowing, joyful movement. At one captivating point, bodies shoal and move as one mesmerising mass under a low amber glow; at another, a swing becomes a simple symbol of freedom and play.

It’s difficult too. “I’m choking on my own heart,” says one woman – a line that sticks in my own throat. Often, the struggle of just navigating daily routine is painfully felt, as is the indignity of being swept aside by government and society alike. What’s also felt in the room, though, is the sheer joy of this space of creation and escape, a space that feels increasingly under threat. “This,” I want to shout, “this is why theatre matters.”