by Melissa Dunne

There’s a meme that’s been doing the rounds of an iceberg peeking out through some water. The top is labelled ‘the performance’ whereas he cavernous, jutting and substantially larger part of the iceberg hidden by the water is labelled ‘the preparation.’

I’ve been thinking about this a lot recently, especially in the context of directing I’m Not Jesus Christ. As I mentioned in my last blog, I first read the play over three and a half years ago and it took me until January this year to confirm a venue. Now, obviously I didn’t make the business of trying to find a venue a full-time job. I had other things in my life, work, family, watching Game of Thrones and trying to have well conditioned hair (I’ve since discovered argan oil it’s all good.) That said, if you’d told me when I first read it that it would take this long I don’t think I would have believed you. In fact, when people congratulate me on the show I am tempted to simply hand them a list of all the venues that turned it down or simply didn’t respond to my emails (I’m not very good at compliments – can you tell?)

When you choose to direct a play, you make yourself vulnerable. Maybe not the same way that actors do in performance, but when you say you want to direct something (especially a new play) you are tying your flag to the mast of a ship that may never set sail. And all the while, you’re questioning if you made the right decision. This is why finding the right venue for the play you wish to direct can be so fraught with anxiety.

The entire time I was struggling to find a venue all I could think was ‘if I’m finding it this difficult I can’t imagine how difficult a director just starting out must find it.’

People talk a lot about lack of diversity in the arts but fail emphasise how much inequality exists at the grassroots. Larger institutions come under a lot of flack for being unrepresentative (quite rightly) but if emerging artists don’t have access to opportunities to cut their teeth and learn their craft, to make work they are passionate about, how are they able to come to the attention to these institutions?

I have (again, quite rightly) been criticised for paying the artists I work with poorly. It’s not something I’m proud of but, I’m a working class person trying to cut my teeth as a director in London. It takes all my strength of will to fill out an ACE form (in truth, my producers largely do this as I stare into the abyss and sort of help a little bit), I don’t know any rich people and in truth, wouldn’t know what to do with an investor if I met one.

So I’m left with a conundrum. If I don’t make work, am I actually helping to perpetuate an elitist system? Or am I just using that argument as a way to more comfortably exploit people to further my own ends?

Answers on the back of a postcard.