I was born in South-East London in 1980. My parents had met at Goldsmiths University. Coming from the North of England they were drawn to London in the ‘60s and Goldsmiths’ reputation as a hub of creativity. Our home was filled with books; the importance of education and the belief that it would open doors was deeply instilled. My father became an expert in children’s picture books, and my mother, after raising us, moved into literacy policy, becoming a consultant for Tony Blair’s government.
My father fostered my love for music and some of my fondest memories are of dancing around the living room to Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet. I started making up plays, soon realising that I enjoyed the limelight. My parents encouraged me, and I began learning the flute and piano, eventually finding that my preferred expression was singing. I trained as a singer, progressing through the grades as a teenager and joining the National Youth Choir. Classical music was my world.
When I was an early teenager, we left London when my father got a job at Exeter University. This rooted me in the South-West. My musical experience was then largely driven by the Devon County Music Service. While I did fine academically, what I truly loved was music, which I went on to study at Cardiff University. Cardiff in the 1990s was not the shiny place it is now, but it was a lot of fun, perhaps too much. One of the key things I learnt there was that I simply didn’t have the discipline required to be a serious musician. I enjoyed friends, societies, clubs and community more. Meeting superb musicians later in my career, I saw the immense work involved in sustaining their expertise – hours alone in a practice room. I didn’t want that.
After university, I stayed in Cardiff. My first job was as an admin assistant for the team building the Wales Millennium Centre. This opportunity was pivotal, introducing me to the first of many inspiring women who mentored me and lifted me up – a pattern that was to be consistent throughout my professional life. I understand it’s now my responsibility to do the same.
From there, I worked for the Welsh National Opera in their outreach and education program. This time solidified my desire to help people enjoy art, especially seeing a child’s eyes widen walking into a concert hall or hearing an operatic voice for the first time. During this time, I also continued singing with a professional choir called Serendipity, recording a CD and supporting with Bryn Terfel at the Royal Albert Hall.
In my mid-20s I went to London and got a job with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, where I had some truly extraordinary opportunities. My favourite memory from this time is the day I spent in two of Her Majesty’s houses. In the morning, I was at HM Prison Belmarsh, working with prisoners to write lullabies for their children, some that they might never meet. It was deeply moving. I sang the songs, and we performed them in the cafeteria for about 100 prisoners. In the evening, the orchestra hosted an exclusive fundraising gala at Buckingham Palace. I joked with our hosts about visiting another of the Queen’s houses that morning and ended up being quoted by a member of the Royal family in their welcoming speech.
It was around this time I met my husband, and we decided to go travelling. His sister was living in Sydney and getting married, so we headed there with no real plan. I requested a sabbatical from my job, intending to come back.
While in Australia, I got a job at the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra. My husband, an audiologist, found work immediately, as his profession was a skill shortage. The New Zealand Symphony Orchestra sponsored my residency, and we ended up staying for nearly five years.
My role was to take the orchestra as far into the community as possible. While the full 90-piece orchestra performed in major concert halls, I took chamber groups into tiny settlements in the South Island. A real privilege was connecting with the Māori community. I had to learn Te Reo Māori to participate in their traditional introduction rituals, which involved speaking about my ancestral canoe, mountain, and river before even stating my name. This level of introduction to their culture was astonishing. It was a level of cultural penetration I’d never have experienced as a tourist.
We decided to leave New Zealand because we wanted to be closer to family and have children. I wanted my children to have the lovely relationship with their grandparents that I had. We knew we wanted to be in the South-West, where I spent my teenage years, and where my husband was from.
I got a job running the Music Education Hub in Bournemouth, which brought us to Dorset. I started in 2012, at the beginning of the national plan for music education, a government policy focused on equitable delivery of music education. I believed in the project, having benefited from a fabulous music service in Devon. But this work coincided with becoming a mother and I found juggling leadership and motherhood incredibly hard: I was sleep-deprived and overwhelmed.
When my daughter was three and my son was just born, I decided to take a less prominent job at the Arts Council England. I loved my time there. The organisation is full of knowledgeable, skilful, passionate people who truly care about arts and culture in this country and strive to do their best with public investment.
But I soon wanted more. I already knew a lot about Bridport Art Centre because of its Arts Council funding. When the role of Director was advertised, I knew I was ready to move out of my musical lane and into a multidisciplinary space. I was tired of working in the arts from a distance, removed from my original motivation of helping people engage with art. I was supporting other organisations to do it, but I wasn’t doing it myself. I also knew that if I wanted community, I would find it here.
I’m really inspired by the idea of creating a space that is humming with activity and creativity, full of people sharing exciting experiences together. A cultural hub for community. I have already had so many wonderful experiences like that during my time at Bridport Art Centre. Connecting with people and sharing something wonderful together.
It soon became clear to me however that I didn’t need to simply bring art to Bridport, because so much is already being made here. This is an abundantly creative place. I now also see the Arts Centre as a place that must support, champion, and advocate for the creative community of Bridport and wider West Dorset – to provide a platform to celebrate the town’s creativity and share the stories of this area.
Arts centres can play a vital role in conveying the character of a place and I want us to enhance the appeal and prosperity of Bridport. It is my hope that people will one day see what’s happening here and want some of that for their own towns. We also run the Bridport Prize, an international writing competition that is considered one of the most prestigious awards in creative writing. We make a big impact from a small team, and I love that we put Bridport on the radar of a worldwide audience.
Unfortunately, the days of significant public subsidy for the arts are over and we need to find new ways to ensure Bridport Arts Centre’s future. If we want to preserve this place for our community, we all have a role to play. Whether by becoming a supporter, buying a ticket, or simply being proud of what we have here and spreading the word.
