Wild Things

We’re about to walk into the next Doorstep Theatre festival this week. This is our 7th season, and it feels like we’re finally managing to get a sense of rhythm and flow to the work. It’s exciting to see how the ongoing participatory work we run year-round is feeding the festival – and particularly special to see how the young people we work with are progressing as artists.

All of our Doorstep Arts participatory groups are being inspired by Maurice Sendak’s book Where the Wild Things Are this term.



We love this idea of starting all 12 groups from a common stimulus and then watching the work creatively spiral in a dozen different directions, each shaped by the strengths and vision of the group.


The youngest groups (aged 4-7) are creating their own wild monster creatures, using face paint and their wickedly wonderful imaginations.


Our oldest group, Doorstep Youth Theatre, is devising their own original response to the book. This piece will perform an early scratch performance on Saturday 29 October, as part of the upcoming festival, alongside Conrad Murray’s DenMarked.

The DYT piece, loosely titled Lullaby or perhaps Rumpus, is a short scratch piece at the moment- only about 10 minutes long. Facilitated by Jade Campbell, Hugh Malyon and myself, the script is an original creation, written collaboratively by the company. We often use Natalie Goldberg’s Rules of Writing Practice during our devising process. This non-school style of writing creates a space where everyone in the company is unquestionably a Writer – no matter what we may have been told in school about our own writing skills. Within the devising studio, all of us have capacity to be writers – and it is often the most poetic, messy, misspelled, and wild writing which enriches the piece. And it is this notion of ‘wildness’ that I’m intrigued by as I look at this short scratch piece in mid-development.


There are two original songs in the piece. One song is called Lullaby and one song is called Rumpus. These have been written by 3 members of the company – Elley, Izzy and Millie. These two melodies compete with each other – there is a call of the wild, and a reassuring song of home. But they pull and twist against each other… a tension exists. The lead character Russell is torn between them. There is a Chorus of Wild Things who live by the ‘Rule of Fun’ – manic and mercurial. Russell is drawn to them, but also drawn back to the lullaby. Perhaps Russell is torn between his own wildness and his longing for the comfort of home?

Wildness – the embracing of it, the fear of it, the necessity of abandoning ourselves to it, these concepts are permeating the DYT piece.


But there is something else emerging within it too – a question. I’m not sure how much I’m driving this question from the director’s seat, or whether its a collective wondering of the ensemble. The piece seems to be asking a question about where the good stories are in our world – right now. Particularly this moment of 2016, post-Brexit, mid-USA-election, overwhelming refugee crises, and drowning in social media stories of pain, despair and human coldness, there is a feeling of being lost. Of somehow a more negative kind of wildness overwhelming our societies – and a fear of the darkness and chaos which seems to be implied by it.

My social media feed is saturated by it.

I’m overwhelmed by this.

And I’m 36. I wonder what it must feel like to be 13, 15, or 18 years old in this moment in the world?

The Scratch piece will perform on Saturday and we’ll ask for audience feedback on it – seeing some advice about where it should go and what it should become. This term’s work will finish at the end of November with final sharings of all the groups’ work. More updates soon, I promise.



Dancing on Our Doorstep

The Doorstep Theatre festival just finished up a couple of weeks ago and this was a very important one – what could have been our sixth and last festival, but what now looks to be the beginning of a really exciting 3 year journey.

We’ve received news from Arts Council England that they will be funding 2 years of activity in Torbay through Doorstep Arts, called Stepping Stones. While we’re still waiting to hear from some very important (and essential) match funders for this work, our hearts are full with all that can now be possible – for our children, and for our friends’ children, and for all the children of this community who deserve to be able to play, and imagine, and be in a safe place to take risks and try out their voices and possible selves.

This is a wistful time – a tap on the table and wait time – but it’s also a really busy time because the new Spring term has just begun, and all our 12 groups are heaving, thriving, boisterous, and so full of joy. It’s a real pleasure to see so many new faces at the new Palace Theatre Studio Courses (formerly TAF), which we took over on 1 April 2016. It’s a real pleasure to see so many of our Drop-In groups absolutely full to capacity, and to see small and important growth with the smaller groups which desperately need to expand.

It’s been 3 years of hard graft, sheer effort, determination and will… but at the Doorstep Theatre Festival on 9 April, we got to celebrate some of the successes of that graft.


We watched 111 performers come together at the Palace Theatre, in a partnership project with Dance in Devon, which ended in a full theatre dancing together.


The Dance on Your Doorstep platform event encapsulated much of what we’re trying to do here – with ROC Creative participants dancing alongside Sixth Form students alongside primary aged dance groups… a rich rainbow array of dance forms, styles, bodies, abilities, techniques, and interpretations.





It was glorious. There’s so much more work to be done, but with nights like this to celebrate, we feel ready for the next round.



Under its Roof

The Doorstep Arts team is getting ready for some big (ish) changes in the next month or two. We’re slowly getting ready for them, but meanwhile our artistic projects are rolling on merrily.

At the moment, our Doorstep Youth Theatre group is getting ready for a couple of sharings. Tonight they’ll be performing their radio play Lift live at the Palace Theatre in Paignton, alongside Sound Communities.

And in a week’s time, they’ll be performing as part of the Under One Roof charity event at the Princess Theatre in Torquay.

The title Under One Roof is largely about raising awareness about homelessness here in Torbay, but the phrase has been evoking a vague ghost-like memory of a poem I once read, so today I went looking for it.

And I found it.

It’s actually  not a poem, per se. It’s a quote by Barbara Kingsolver, one of my favourite writers.

And it’s this:

‘The very least you can do in your life is figure out what you hope for.

And the most you can do is live inside that hope.

Not admire it from a distance,

but live right in it,

under its roof.’

I think what is echoing round in my mind at the moment is how difficult that is to do… to live right inside your hope. It means you spend a lot of time believing in something you can’t see yet. And for us, at the moment, a lot of time visioning something not yet possible.

Crossing the Threshold

The Doorstep Arts team is in the midst of some big transitions at the moment. Some of those are physical and little and some of those are strategic and huge (like hearing that Arts Council England has approved 1.2 millions pounds to support the Collaborative Touring Network for another three years – wahoo!).

Stepping over a threshold into a new space is scary and wonderful at the same time – there is a fear of the unknown, and a small wry sadness at saying goodbye to the old familiar comfortable space you’re leaving behind.  The smell of the familiar, the worn corners of a way of working which is accustomed, faded… ours through the making.

The Doorstep team are in need of an office. This need is becoming pressing.

For three years now, we’ve met at our various houses – in front rooms, over kitchen tables, often with children playing in the next room, or in-between school runs. As three mums who also run an arts organisation, this has fitted into our busy and scattered lives in a very organic way. But increasingly, we are finding that we’ve outgrown this way of working…both in terms of capacity, and in terms of head space.

This month, we’re delivering about six different projects… we have professional artists working in 12 secondary schools as part of the RAW Outreach programme, delivering free devised theatre workshops to drama classes. We have dance artists working in transition-aged classrooms, with year 6 & 7 students, doing breakdance and contemporary dance as part of our Dance on Your Doorstep Community Platform, funded by Awards for All. We are making a radio play alongside Sound Communities with one our drama groups. We’re beginning the Geo-Opera in collaboration with Mark Laville, Hugh Nankivell, Steve Sowden, and a host of other talented and amazing artists.  We are delivering the Chin-Up Project with Prom Prom. We are continuing to run the People’s Health Trust-funded Pips drama club at the Acorn Centre, getting ready to go into artistic residence at the Palace Theatre in Paignton, and all the time, running our other six weekly drama groups (which are all growing!) and producing the Doorstep Theatre Festival for April 2016.

It’s safe to say that we’re stretched.

It’s a good stretch.

It’s like elastic – we’re doing a lot of good stuff, and it’s all purposeful, and useful, and needed. But a good stretch can quickly become a strain if you’re not careful. You have to pay attention to the twinge that says ‘enough now’ – and know when to respond to it.

As mothers, and feminists, and creatives, it’s important to honour and respect our family, domestic and personal space – our daily lives, and preserve them from the bombardment of work, which can ping and ding at any time of the day with email, text, tweets, etc.

It’s somewhat overwhelming when you work in the arts, and part of our goal over the next few months as we cross the threshold into our new space, both literal and metaphorical, is to preserve our quiet space and time. To hold it sacred and precious, and not let it be disturbed.

Or at least to find a balance that works for each of us – and that’s different for each person.

So for us, this minute, that means we’re working toward taking up an office (even though that’s scary!) and it means that we’re trying to get some more core funding in, to help pay ourselves for the hours of time we put in for free.

We’re building some walls between the ‘Work’ of running this organisation and our ‘Lives’ which have made its birth and inception possible. This is sort of bittersweet – it’s like watching a child grow up… looking forward to who they are going to be, but sort of mourning the loss of the babyhood, its innocence, excitement and newness.

We’re standing in the doorway, anyway.

Expect pictures soon of the new office (we’re very excited, Meg is choosing colours for the walls and there are plans involving pallet furniture) and expect lots of exciting updates as strategic plans unfold over the next few months too.

Thanks for being with us on this journey.


Resilience & Resistance & Revelry

Post written by: Erin Walcon

Now that we’re in the final two week stretch of the Resilience Web project, I’m feeling reflective. It’s a kind of a nostalgic, look back at all the Hard Work, but more importantly, it’s a looking forward at The Work That’s Yet to Come But Needs Doing.

The last six months have been a wild, wonderful experiment and our small creative team is tired but inspired by them. We had a reflection session on Monday of this week, and gathered our collective learnings together around my kitchen table. Mostly, we learned that young people are amazing imagineers (imagination + engineer), inventors, storytellers, dancers, performers, songwriters, musicians, thinkers, and creatures of play and joy.

Mostly, we learned more from them than they learned from us. This is not a surprise.

We began the process of devising Grit and Crossing the Threshold with a mild interest in how you nurture resilience with children and young people, especially knowing that our young people in Torbay grow up in exceptionally adverse circumstances.

Brace for statistics: A quarter of children in Torbay grow up in ‘official’ poverty.  In some neighbourhoods, this number is closer to 40%. In addition to this, Torbay leads the nation for families ‘on the edge’ of poverty – in other words, working families who are just about making it, but who are only one bill or one paycheck away from not making it. 37% of Torbay’s families fit this category, and support services for these kids are much more limited.

What does that have to do with resilience?

Well, it’s just this. Some of the major projects into resilience in the UK – and there are some great ones – are developed within a social care or mental health framework which understand that children growing up in poverty have a need to develop resilience. Amazing inspiring, work, like that done by Boing Boing UK creates training and skill-sharing sessions for social workers, teachers, and mental health professionals to develop resources to support resilience. We had hoped that our Resilience Web Project in Torbay would expand learning about the value of arts-based methods of resilience support, particularly through theatre and drama. It did, but it also raised some critical questions too. We’re still sitting inside these.  They’re big questions.  There is room to sit inside, and we’d like to welcome some more friends in and have a party.

One of the key questions is this:

In supporting resilience, we are encouraging young people to develop a centre of gravity, to overcome obstacles, to stand back up when life knocks them down, to be bouncy.

But if you happen to have been born into a life that knocks you over a lot more than the other 5 kids down the street, you get tired. If you happen to be born into a life where you don’t get as much to eat, or as many opportunities or as many bedtime stories as most other kids. And maybe… just maybe… it isn’t fair that we’re asking that kid to get extra bouncy. Maybe it looks a bit like victim-blaming?  Asking them to get better at surviving a life that is hard and isn’t likely to get any easier? Accepting their fate and just dealing with it better? That doesn’t feel ethical.

So our conclusion?

You can’t just work on resilience – not just that. At the same time, you have to create space for revelry and laughter and joy. At the same time, you have help to nurture a healthy sense of resistance – of speaking up against the systems which can cause endemic injustices with regard to poverty and deprivation. Resistance and resilience must go hand in hand – in a way that feels strangely reminiscent of Augusto Boal and Paulo Freire and a 1970s style of idealism and political activism and conscientization and critical consciousness.

And we, the Doorstep team, would argue that within that, there MUST be space for revelry in this work too. Joy is an essential part of the work – and children who are facing more difficult lives need laughter as much as any other child, and sometimes in their life situations, laughter can be particularly hard to find.

So that’s 3 Rs I think we’re advocating for.  A bit like school – the 3 Rs of ‘Reading, Writing and ‘Rithmatic’, right?  Except our 3 Rs are ‘Resilience, Resistance and Revelry’.

But we just had a chat today, Meg and me and we think maybe there’s a 4th R in there.  (At risk of over-killing the alliteraton, I know, sorry.)

  • Resilience
  • Resistance
  • Revelry
  • Risk

That 4th R is pretty important too… without personal risk, and healthy risk-taking, it’s hard to live a full and whole life.  And artistically, without risk, the work is bland and uninteresting and stagnant. Risk is scary. Brene Brown speaks eloquently about the power of vulnerability, and I would argue that being vulnerable is about laying yourself open to the risk of being hurt – but that risk also opens up the possibility of joy and love in a life.  Being vulnerable is part of being human, part of engaging with the whole juicy orange of life. Taking risks is something we learn to do by trying.

Artistic risks may have to do with picking up a guitar for the first time and trying to strum a chord. Artistic risks may have to do with devising a show in an entirely new and untried way. Artistic risks may have to do with singing by yourself in front of 250 year 7 students. Artistic risk may be attempting something very brave in a very short time frame with a very small budget. All of these risks have just been taken in Torbay through this project.

Personal risk may have quite a lot do with being a teenager – or a child – who is stepping out into the world and doing things for the first time. Going to your first drama session, with a bunch of strangers you don’t know is scary and vulnerable and risky. You might not make any friends. You might not like it.  You might get put on the spot. Or… not. You might find a home, a family, a set of friends, a safe place to imagine and to be yourself.

So much of adolescence is about necessary risks – proving yourself, testing your limits, feeling out the edges of your potential, rites of passage, adrenhaline-laced adventure, silly choices, and growing up.

What drama spaces offer is a safe space in which to do some of this work… fictional stories in which we can try out risky behaviours, faces, voices, selves, and then discard them again without consequences. Drama spaces offer stories and characters who can go on journeys of our making, and we can go with them.

When the 22 young people who devised Grit took the title character Tess on a journey to alien worlds, we all went with her. We all found our own strength, and determination, and were forced to name our fear and show that we were scared and accept it anyway. Tess took us all to a place we needed to go, and in journeying there and back again, we emerge back into our worlds a little bit more resilient, a little bit bouncier, a little bit more centred. (And tired, because touring a show is hard work.)

But I think we all came back from our Grit journey a bit more resistant too. In singing a song about the ethical problems with standardized testing TO a full school group, we were resisting some of the general acceptance of testing as an acceptable form of monitoring child progress.

In doing that through an original song, in an original devised production, we were demonstrating that ‘testing’ someone’s potential can look a lot of different ways, and that filling in bubbles with a No 2 pencil is only one of them… how do you measure a young person’s limits?  How do you measure their potential?  Not with multiple choice questions.

We need much bigger questions than that.

Big ones we can all live inside, and with space to play.




Guest post: Hugh Malyon

This blog post was written by Hugh Malyon, a 20-year old Paignton-based emerging artist who worked with Doorstep Arts on the recent original production of GritMany thanks to Hugh for taking the time to record his journey… and an even bigger thanks to him for his director’s eye, insight and ongoing leadership for the company. It’s been a pleasure working with you!


My Experience of GRIT and the Support I was Given

A guest post by Grit Assistant Director Hugh Malyon

Browsing one day on my computer, a very fortunate e-mail happened to pop in to my inbox. An invitation to attend a open rehearsal for the musical GRIT. I instantly jumped to the opportunity and was exited for the behind the scenes roll, including assistant director. I also went to the rehearsal as a unofficial agent for my friend/actor Luke Grant.

The open rehearsal must have gone well as we both received ” congrats you’re in”. Meeting the full company for the first time I was stuck and impressed with the diverse age range. With the youngest 12 and the oldest a lot older, this newly formed company has the potential to create something special, entertaining and memorable for audience and cast alike.

This project was interesting and different in many ways. First of all, it wasn’t a completely scripted piece nor a completely devised piece, It was somewhere weirdly in the middle. Secondly, it was a thrust stage. This basically meant that everything the actors learnt in drama school had to go out the window – as you can imagine it was a steep learning curve.

During the summer we had time as a company to complete the gaps in the script, a task we were doing right up to the matinee performances. However, during that summer we had time to grow as a company and enjoy working with the characters and narrative – a time where every idea was considered and creative life was GREAT!


Unfortunately, this was short lived as we entered into rehearsal schedule and looming deadlines. This is where assistant directors come into their own: bossy, loud and stressed out! No, luckily for me I didn’t have to become dictator of directing nightmare. This was down to the sheer talent of the company members and the fantastic support from DOORSTEP ARTS.

In the  musical there were three unique, batty, creative, supportive and out of this world characters. Now I’m not saying that these characters based solely on Erin, Jade and Meg ( The three directors of DOORSTEP) but I have my suspicions. They all put in a real shift to make GRIT a professional piece as well as giving the young people the chance to learn and grow as young artistes.

As an example of them going above the call of duty, they introduced me to Unlimited Impact. They offer small bursary for disabled artistes across the s/w. This successful Grant allowed extra support for me and my disability to participate fully in the group. It helped fund accessible transport, useful software for me, as well as lamps E.C.T.

One of the biggest barriers we had to overcome as a company is the everyday common cold. It hit our company like a plague and I think most people had a version of it including myself. I have a distressing memory on one of our first tour performances at a local school. My throat was sore and I lost my voice for the whole day. I had lots of notes to give and break a legs to offer but most of that didn’t happen due to my deteriorating throat and voice. We pulled through and that was credit to the friendly and supportive environment of the GRIT company.

I will always look back in fondness at my journey with the GRIT company. There is some incredible talent in Torbay just waiting for an opportunity like DOORSTEP ARTS offered and will continue to offer. The feedback session that the company participated in was emotional, inspiring and a honour to be part of.



Final curtain call image

Grit: How do you measure it?

We’ve just finished a very busy touring week, taking Grit around Torbay area schools, performing to year 6 & 7 audiences. We finished off the week with 3 public performances at the Palace Theatre in Paignton – it’s been an incredible, joyful, exhausting, overwhelming, exhilarating journey.

I think it will take us several months to make sense of what’s happened here.

We’re spending a lot of time sifting through the residue this week – looking over song lyrics, scrappy notes about script edits, photographs.

I’m not quite ready to reflect… not just yet.

But I can share some of the company’s reflections with you. On Sunday, our last performance day, we asked the 22 young people to write about what ‘Grit’ means to them, now, after this experience.  Here is what they said.

What does Grit mean to you, now, after this experience?

Grit is a musical and I love music and it’s about strength and resilience and people need to know more about their own strength and resilience.

Worrier to Warrior.

Everyone here is grit.

Strength to stand up, even if that’s just putting your hand up. 

Grit is to grit your teeth to get through the bad/tough times.

To have the confidence and fight for what you believe in.

To do whatever you need to do to be happy. Grit = Love.

I have made friends.

I am changed.

I am strong enough.


Tess is me.

I’d hug her if I could.

I am so brave.


I did things I never thought I was capable of.

I was believed in.

Spit and sweat.


I went on a journey with Tess.


Grit means to push through the times of horror and pain. It means to stop worrying about all the negatives and just accept them. Gritting your teeth allows you to move on with your life, to journey on with others. Why is Grit aimed at young people (around 11)? Because that’s the age where you are just starting to realise the reality of the world. The time where you realise it’s not perfect. It’s the time when you have to accept the imperfect and learn to live with all the flaws.

Grit means taking up a load of time and maybe missing out some stuff but it was worth it.

Answering questions post-school shows helped.

Gritting your teeth.

Grit in the oyster.

Grit, dirt, bad stuff.

Gravel, sand, tiny pieces.

Tiny pieces that come together as girt.

. – me.

…… – we are cool grit.

Grit means many small pieces, like friendship or something.

What does grit mean to me?

Well, it means a lot to me because it is one of the best shows I have ever been a part of and I think everyone who has been a part of Grit are truly amazing people, who are all talented in their own unique ways. This show has even helped me to boost my confidence more when I am on stage. Grit will always be a memory to me because it is something I never want to forget, because of how great working with the others has been. G.R.I.T.!!!


How modern life and society casts out those who chose to be their own person. If we give up and become like everyone, we’ll lose who we are and whoever you are, king or vagabond, we are all the same and that’s what makes the world turn. We breath the same air and have a beating heart. Let your heart speak to you and follow the wisdom it gives you.


Pushing through and carrying on through gritted teeth. Grit to me is knuckling down. Owning your space, your voice, being strong enough to speak out, to get messy. To laugh, cry, weep, laugh and cry again. Grit is about holding your own and being responsible for your own actions. Grit is what makes me keep going and keep my head held high. Grit is about dedication, determination, and respect. Respecting oneself, respecting your friends and being true! Always tell the truth and keep asking questions.


Theatre is one of the purest art forms. To watch everyone come together and make something out of thin air really is magical. It shows people that they are strong and capable in ways that they didn’t know and shows them that they can express themselves in music and performance. Working with this company has restored my faith in the acting community and shown me how much people really care about this art and the other people in it.


Grit has been fun, happy, emotional, stressful, confidence-building and a beautiful thing to be a part of. It has brought me closer to not only wonderful people but their incredible creative visions and ideas.  Such an inspiring process to witness and be a part of. I have learnt more about the arts and learnt more about myself and my opinions on different kinds of art. Incredible.


Grit means to me that going far and seeing the dangris (dangerous) crechs (creatures) and fasing (facing) them by telling the trooth (truth) and bleaving (believing) and worcing (working) together and say when you thingk something is rong (wrong). (Sophia, aged 6)


To me, Grit is a synonym for life. The different worlds they travel to are all actually just our world, what ifs are just normal people at school, the marching people in conformity world are just normal people trying to fit in, the people in the bar scene who think they are getting everything are in fact getting nothing.


Confidence is a big word. People use it a lot and don’t know what it means. Confidence comes from other people and I think we achieved something. It’s something that I learned is how to give confidence. Grit is such a perfect word. It obviously means different things to everyone in the group, which is a cool concept. When it means different things to everyone, it means we’re creating somethingfrom everyone.


Grit means to keep going in the face of all odds / to fight back against sometimes impossible forces. To speak back to schooling systems which can be broken and unfair and twisted and to do it together, to do it as a company, to stand and try to say something together/ to try and find a way to say it that we can all share/or at least words we agree are beautiful. Grit isn’t pretty. It’s real and dirty and scrappy and fighty and yes in spite of no and keep going. It means making and creating in a world where that’s hard.


I liked performing in the show Grit because it brought a lot of people from lots of different performing backgrounds together. I personally have met people who I now class as good friends which I am willing to say, back in my days at school, I would not have been friends with because our interest would have clashed.


To me, Grit means that you should always be accepted and you should never change who you are just to fit in. I have felt so accepted in Grit and I thank you all so much. I hope I can go on another journey like this soon. I love you guys so so so MUCH! Like, so much. It’s insane. You guys are great. And funny. And creative. Love you!


Grit to me has given me new friends and a new passion and an amazing experience. I was invited to this group not knowing anyone but I believe I found some really great friends and some brilliant inspirations. It’s really important to do this because it opens up new and exciting hobbies to do and that’s something I couldn’t have had without this Grit performance.


Grit means to me an opportunity to express my thoughts and feelings in a way that I want and not in a way in which I am to told. Grit has opened up amazing opportunities, its helped me make new friends, helped me enjoy writing music again and it has also reminded me about my passion for performing which I never thought would happen. Grit has helped make things make sense because we can relate to it because we made it. J I can be accepted for who I am.


To me, Grit means not giving up, having confidence to speak your  mind, knowing what’s right and what’s wrong. Knowing that there are people to count on and you can always find new people (like the Grit cast). Grit is about overcoming the hard times with your friends around you to help you through it. Grit!

What does Grit mean to me now? Grit means strength. Grit means courage. Grit means finding who you are. Grit is also a group of people, new found friends, new skills. Grit is the discovering of different lifestyles and different types of people. It’s the exploring of difference and exploring abstract writing, abstract acting, writing in a way tht has made it feel so real and it has been amazing! How do you measure it? That’s how you measure it: experiences.

What does Grit mean to me?

I don’t know if you remember, but being a teen can be hard. Ace at times, but at times, seemingly impossible. The world is often crushing and hopeless, and everyone just needs more hopefulness, more resilience, and more Grit. It is so important for us to share this musical, reaching out to all those at school and home, those with difficult families and missing spaces and telling them that: you know what? You’re not alone, and you are special and needed. You are precious, you have a place in this world. And it’s okay to suffer. We have each other’s back and there can be hope even in the darkest of situations.