We sat down for a quick chat with Claudia Shnier, writer, director and creator of Split Ends. Originally premiered at Brighton Fringe, where it was nominated for Best New Show 2025, before running at Edinburgh Fringe, Camden Fringe and internationally in Melbourne and Sydney, this is the first regional UK tour of the show.
Split Ends uses the metaphor of hair, hoovers and “splitting” to explore coercive control—how did you land on such a visceral visual language to tell this story?
Well, ever since I was 14, I have had an obsessive ‘addiction’ to cutting my split ends, which I now know to be OCD. It’s a way for me to tolerate distress and to feel ‘in control’. But as soon as I start, I can’t stop, which makes me more distressed, making me want to cut my hair more. I then started dating an abusive partner, who also happened to be incredibly hairy. He would shed his hairs all over my apartment, and my OCD evolved into becoming obsessed with vacuuming his hairs. It was once again a way for me to feel in control, but yet again, the compulsion became debilitating and distressing to me, and I was ‘trapped’ in another destructive cycle. I thought the cyclicality of my distressing relationship to hair was a visceral way for me to explore the nuances of being ‘trapped’ in an abusive relationship.
By personifying the vacuum as a romantic partner, what new emotional truths were you able to access about abuse, attachment and obsession?
I think exploring how an inanimate object can have so much power over you and be a cause for immense emotional pain was interesting to me in my process of healing. I have two truths that contradict each other but co-exist, which I discovered. I discovered that the vacuum doesn’t have literal power if it is not plugged in; whether it is plugged in or not is up to me. But at the same time, it was not up to me. I have a big problem with the notion that part of the things that happened to me were because of the choices I made. It’s not that simple. Just like an illness, just like addiction. Sometimes you make choices because there are external influences that are controlling you. It’s complicated, and I think I’ve found comfort and dissolution of guilt by exploring this nuance in my play.
How did your own lived experience shape the decision to blend autobiography with physical theatre, puppetry and multimedia storytelling?
Honestly, it was just part of the devising process when I was creating it. The multimedia came because sound design and voiceover were a big part of my creative practice. I then discovered that I should put a face to the voice in my sound designs during the process of creating it. So then film became quite integral to the storytelling. As for physical theatre, this was also a big part of my practice, and I realised that in some sections of the piece it was more evocative to express the experience physically rather than through multimedia or speech.
The show moves between dark comedy, confession and performance art—how do you navigate humour without undercutting the seriousness of the subject matter?
I think I’ve written it in a way that I gain the audience’s trust quite quickly, which allows to be very playful but deliver hard truths without losing my audience. I also think I’ve made an effort to not layer scenes with similar tones or to quickly disrupt one scene with something else. It sounds chaotic, but it’s a controlled chaos, which an audience member described as “a very skilful punch in the guts.” I also let the heavier moments have time to breathe so that it’s not too jarring.
You’ve taken Split Ends from Edinburgh to Australia and now a UK tour—how has audience response evolved the work over time?
Since I first performed it, I have been blown away by the audience reception of this piece. I think because I am so open and honest and raw, it ignites a want for conversation or sharing in the audience. I have received more messages from strangers about how this show impacted them, than I have in my whole career. It’s been an incredible way for me to know that my show is having its desired effect. So that has been pretty consistent since the start, but I’ve changed bits in the play based on my personal growth over time as well as some constructive feedback I’ve received from audiences.
Performing to NHS staff as well as theatre audiences is unusual—what conversations are you hoping the piece opens up in those settings?
I received an email the other day from the doctor who came to see the show, who put me in touch with the NHS in Cornwall. I won’t share the whole email, but this is an excerpt of what he sent me, and I am so touched (brought tears to my eyes) reading this, and I think it speaks for itself.
“In my job I see the victims and perpetrators of abuse, but because of the pressure, it tends to be a very brief overview, or touching on the effects on mood or anxiety etc, with no chance to gain any real depth or understanding. We may treat the symptoms if we can, or signpost to other services for psychological support, but it is too easy just to move on and deal with the next patient with their blood pressure or painful knee etc.
The chance to watch you illustrating the experiences in such a deeply personal and moving way, yet with clever comedy and manipulation of emotions, was a true privilege. I was left wishing everyone who is ever likely to either be in a relationship, or deal with anyone in a relationship, should see for themselves to gain that insight. Every healthcare professional who deals with patients or clients who might have had similar experiences will, I think, be more understanding and able to give better care and compassion to the person they are dealing with if they were to see Split Ends.
I would like to think that I am a better man, both personally and professionally for seeing you, and I feel very privileged. I am so pleased that I chose your production that day in Edinburgh and wish I had seen it earlier in life!”