On not knowing: reflections from Lovers Rock

In April I spent the last couple of weeks in residency at Fabric Nottingham.

I walked in with a team I had never worked with before. A choreographic assistant, a sound artist, a dramaturg, an academic consultant, performers, all new to each other, all new to me in this configuration. We were working with the unknown from day one.

What people don’t always see is what it costs to show up to work like this. The version of me that walked into that room had been carrying a lot. Months of difficulty. Splitting myself into ten. Leading through disability in an industry that doesn’t always make space for what that actually means. Showing up anyway, because the work matters and because sometimes, as a freelancer, financial obligation has to override what you know you need. That is sometimes difficult to hold when you know you need solid time to rest, and you also know that bills need to be paid and a roof over your head needs to be kept. I told myself that the time in the room could act as rest — respite from the unwelcome call of administration that had been chasing me relentlessly.

But something happened in that room.

It felt like coming home.

Throughout the process the performers and creatives fed back about finding freedom, finding community. Connecting to parts of themselves they had forgotten, or parts they didn’t even know existed. On the last day nobody wanted to check out, because checking out meant it was over (at least for now). For me that felt in some way bigger than the questions we had answered or the ways forward we had found. It was a remembering of purpose. That was the rest, the change I needed. To meander and explore, to find communication through movement and sound. To step away from the computer and be in that feeling space. To be in collective joy — something that felt so sacred none of us wanted to leave. This was not lost on me, given what the world outside the room was holding, bearing witness.

On the last day one  of the creative team reflected: “The universe has a way of placing you in the rooms you are supposed to be in.” I believe that. And this residency has been the proof of it. It has also been the respite I so desperately needed.

There is something quietly radical about making work from a place of genuine not-knowing. About building trust before building anything else. About a room full of people willing to go on a journey together without a map.

I am still processing what we made. But I know it is something.

To the team — thank you for the room you gave me too.

#LiveArt #Performance #Dance #CreativeLeadership #Disability #NeurodivergentCreatives #TheUnderestimated