Celebrating 10 years
For those who don’t know me, I’m Andrew, and I was brought up in a pub in Dorset. My mum was a barmaid and waitress as well as being the Landlady, and my dad was just the Landlord who was always perched on a stool at the end of the bar, greeting his regulars and getting through way too many litres of cheap Pinot Grigio. I went to a massive comprehensive school, got consumed with self-doubt and relied heavily on John Hughes films to get me through being a teenager on the barren wasteland that is the South Coast of England. I did drama at school because it was the only thing I was actually any good at. I mean, I wasn’t De Niro, possibly more Kenneth Williams, but I knew by standing in a room with a black curtain, wooden floors, a few bright lights and a bunch of like-minded people all dressed in black willing to wait for a bloke called Godot, I knew I was in my safe space.
I left Dorset when I was 18 and went to drama school. I went to Mountview. I remember getting the acceptance letter through the post and I remember vividly my mum’s reaction. It wasn’t good. It wasn’t cakes and whistles and a great big party. She literally welled up, and asked me outright, “How are we going to afford it?” It was 1988, and things were a lot different for a working-class boy from Dorset trying to follow a dream. There was funding for a start. The first step towards me making that move to London required me to stand in front of a panel of stuffy local councillors and perform a speech from Equus that happened to focus on cowboys and horses. I’m not quite sure what they thought of me or the speech because they sat there in complete silence for quite a while, before I was escorted off the premises in silence. But something worked, I received a grant from Dorset County Council and all my fees were going to be covered. Perhaps they just wanted to get rid of me, and considered me a danger to Dorset? Thousands and thousands of pounds in tuition fees were now sorted. I could go. It was still going to be difficult for mum and dad, but I could go. And I did.
And then I graduated. And I worked as an actor. Sometimes. And I signed on. And I did fringe. And I continued to sign on. And I claimed housing benefit. And I did more fringe. And I still kept signing on. I had no Uncle Monty in Belsize Park with a room overlooking the heath, or a trust fund preventing the immortal words, ‘Request refused, please refer to bank.’ My mum was still a barmaid and waitress, and my dad was still perched on that bloody stool drinking cheap Pinot Grigio; but I was able to start finding my feet because of state benefits.
Cut to 2024, and that path I took, in terms of fees paid and signing on and rent covered, that’s all gone. Every single part of that process that I was able to access no longer exists. So, what happens to those people with similar dreams and similar backgrounds? For most, they stop. They have to. There is no way through the quagmire of cash needed to survive, and there is no ignoring the fact that when you go to take cash out of your bank, you’ll be told in no uncertain terms that your request has definitely been refused and you should definitely go and find a proper job instead. And you will give up before you’ve had the opportunity to even try.
And so early on when Ardent was in its infancy, we made it our goal to set up a project that would run in conjunction with our main body of work and that is the ARDENT8 programme. A programme we run every eighteen months, to support eight performing arts graduates from working class backgrounds. Often, they live outside of London, and we pay for the travel and their lunch and we bring them into London to take part in various workshops facilitated by industry professionals. So often even attending a workshop can be too much for some because of train fares or buying a coffee and sandwich, so we make sure that for that specific workshop day the worries around money disappear and Ardent pay for everything – they need not worry about anything.
The series of workshops then culminate in a 2 week residency in London, whereby they get put up in a Travelodge in Walthamstow, they are all handed their first Equity contracts, paid Equity rates as well as being part of a new production in a central London venue. Everyone who takes part in the ARDENT8 project is reminded throughout that there is no golden ticket at the end of it. There might be one, somewhere, but you have to really want to find it. But what we can do is offer up an opportunity. An opportunity that we believe is equal. And that’s what’s important to us. For once, we smash down the financial barrier, and we level the playing area. We have funding for 8. The dream is we have funding for 800. But then for two middle-aged men on three days a week, that might just be a step too far.
We believe that drama is supposed to be a lens on life. All aspects of life. And yet, it’s primarily accessible to those who experience an extremely comfortable version of it. Whichever way you look at it, acting is not a level playing stage. We want to address this and make a change.
As we celebrate 10 years of Ardent, we now have to think about the next 10 years and beyond. We have been working hard recently on new strategies and a new vision for the company, that we hope will be the central drive to keep us going and to keep us making every effort we can to support those artists from working class backgrounds. Our mission, and it’s a big one, is to END CLASS INEQUALITY IN THEATRE. I’ll repeat that: WE WANT TO END CLASS INEQUALITY IN THEATRE. We believe that no one should feel like an outsider and that everyone should have the right to an equal opportunity within the creative industry regardless of class and privilege.
One decade has passed, and we hope for many more. We will keep trying and we will keep dreaming.
“Dad, I don’t actually drink Pinot Grigio, I like Cloudy Bay Sauvignon Blanc, and do you know what? I think you’d really like it. Cheers.”
Ardent Theatre Company is a registered charity with a mission to end class inequality in theatre. We produce theatre, provide training and remove barriers to ensure at least 50% of actors employed in theatre are from working-class backgrounds and that anyone who wants to access theatre as an audience member has that opportunity.
CLICK HERE to read how you can help Ardent achieve it’s mission.