IN CONVERSATION WITH: Michael Buffong

Talawa – the UK’s leading Black British Theatre Company – is marking a significant milestone of 40 years in 2026. We sat down with Michael Buffong, Artistic Director at Talawa Theatre Company.


How does TALAWA 86:26 celebrate 40 years of legacy while supporting the next generation of Black British theatre talent? 

We take a moment to reflect on the incredible journey taken over the past forty years. We create opportunities to honour our fore founders, and we work to establish a resource base that allows us to continue to nurture the next generation of great Black British talent.  

What role does the Mona Hammond Lecture Series play in connecting Talawa’s history with contemporary diversity and inclusion debates? 

The entire history of Talawa is built on creating space for our artists to exist and thrive, tell their stories in the manner they choose. To support their work, we have built a community of creatives that share this ethos. Part of doing this successfully requires having challenging conversations on the true state of our industry.  

Mona was a trailblazer who possessed an incredible clarity of vision — she told the truth and she told it boldly. We want to keep that spirit alive by sparking dialogue around some big themes that often are not spoken about out loud. Artist wellbeing is a huge area of concern and will be one of the first themes we explore in detail. 

How do movement and spoken word in Fragments of Us shape the storytelling of Black British experiences today? 

There are explicit and implicit expectations for Black men to move, speak or behave in a certain way. Vulnerability is still not a readily championed quality. This work explores and challenges some of the stereotypes around a young Black man and his ability to connect with outré art forms. 

How does Talawa nurture emerging writers and performers while maintaining its signature adventurous spirit? 

We empower artists to shoot for the moon, punch above their weight. That is the essence of “Talawa.” It’s about providing a safe space where artists feel free to fully explore their ideas, without fear of judgement or failure. We have historic programmes such as our young people’s theatre workshop (TYPT) and Talawa Firsts that to this day provide unique opportunities for emerging artists. 

With productions like The Black Jacobins, how do you ensure historical stories of resistance stay relevant for modern audiences? 

These themes are endlessly recyclable because human nature hasn’t changed and we often fail to learn the lessons of history. The art is a mirror of society as we see it. 

I think it’s important to be aware of our history and historical figures such as Toussaint L’Overture. In doing so, we reveal the huge challenges we have overcome but also learn how to avoid repeating some of the mistakes of the past. 

Looking ahead, what are the next steps for Talawa in championing Black talent and shaping British theatre’s future? 

Creating bigger stages, attracting better funding, platforming more fearless storytelling. 

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Maz McGinlay

We sat down for an exclusive interview with Maz McGinlay who plays Dr Jess Irvine in this captivating and soul-stirring new musical infused with nostalgic Scottish folk sounds and foot-stomping rhythms.

Lifeline runs from 28 April to 2 May at Southwark Playhouse Elephant. Info here.


LIFELINE spans love and a looming global crisis — how do you keep it feeling intimate rather than overwhelming?

I think focussing on the human aspects of the show is what keeps it from feeling overwhelming or something we can’t get our heads around, which is easy to get lost in when dealing with a heavy subject. The show hits relatable topics such as grief, loss, discovery, love, family and best of all hope. 

With real-life medics on stage, in what way will the show land differently for you each night?

Naturally with a wonderful group of real life medical professionals each week, the show will stay fresh and exciting for all of us involved. These people are incredible humans who have given up their time to join us on stage, and what each of them do professionally is entirely different. As actors it’s our job to respond to that authentically.

How do you navigate jumping between 1950s Scotland and present-day Edinburgh as a performer?

My role in the show only deals with the modern day story, but it’s actually quite lovely to leave the stage in a pair of scrubs then pass someone entering into a new scene in period style costume. It’s so unique in that way and hopefully by the end, the worlds will meet in a clever and artistic way.

This is science-led but emotion-driven — where do you find your way into it?

Yes the Science is incredibly important and relevant to this story, but can also be polarising if you don’t quite understand all the technicality of phrases etc….. I definitely don’t! However, at the heart of the story is the real- life human emotions of what each of the characters is going through. Science like-minded or not, that is something we all relate to. Whether it be heartbreak, falling in love, grief, loss, laughter.  We all understand that. 

What feels different about working on a piece that’s still evolving and so tied to real-world stakes?

I definitely feel the weight of telling the story in the most authentic and clear way. It’s a topic that needs to be heard and understood by everyone around the world, and what better way to do it than in art form. And how lucky we are to have real life medical professionals who face Antimicrobial Resistance (AMR) every day, to help us in doing that. We’ve also been lucky enough to have an incredible creative team who are open minded and malleable at every corner.

What’s this show revealed to you about the power of “ordinary” people?

No one is actually ordinary. And when working together especially, we can achieve extraordinary things. 

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Amy Snudden

We sat down with Amy to discuss her upcoming production, Single White Female. The play visits New Theatre, Peterborough 7-11 April, Richmond Theatre 14-18 April with dates in Birmingham, Bradford, Glasgow and many more major venues across the country until 13 June. For tickets see www.swfonstage.com


What first attracted you to the role of Bella in the stage adaptation of Single White Female, and how did you approach bringing her to life?

Bella is a new character in this adaptation, replacing the dog, Buddy, from the film! Because she’s new- it’s been wonderful getting to create a character from scratch, discovering her mannerisms and her interactions with the others around her. I’ve definitely drawn on my own experience of growing up as a teenager in a world shaped by social media, using it as inspiration for her outbursts and fragility, whilst also exploring her sass and sarcasm, which I’m sure we all remember having and are familiar with seeing!

How has working alongside experienced performers like Kym Marsh and Lisa Faulkner influenced your performance in this production?

It is so inspiring to get to work with both Kym and Lisa. Watching them bring such a wealth of experience and specificity to the work throughout rehearsals and every night on stage is incredibly compelling to watch. You feel so safe when you are on stage with them, and it’s really fun getting to play around with the scenes each night, throwing all sorts of offers at each other, which keeps things fresh and exciting. Above all they are also some of the most wonderful humans to be around!

What challenges and opportunities come with performing in a modern reimagining of such an iconic psychological thriller?

One of the challenges has definitely been keeping the essence of the film while setting it in a new, modern era. We wanted to honour and preserve the iconic moments from the film — like the stiletto (iykyk!) — but also make it feel relatable and accessible for today’s audiences, which the addition of social media and modern references really helps with. Finding the right balance between the old and the new was so important. You want audiences to recognise the beats from the film, but the modernisation also gives us the chance to reintroduce the story and connect with a whole new audience.

Can you describe the rehearsal process and how the cast built the intense atmosphere required for the show?

The rehearsal process was fast, but full of exciting moments and real collaboration with our director, Gordon Greenberg, and our writer, Rebecca Reid. Act 1 was all about gradually building the tension and dropping in moments of discomfort for the audience to create that sense that something wasn’t quite right.

Act 2, however, was a completely different beast — a real whirlwind of action. It was so important to keep the stakes as high as possible so that the intensity and fear would really translate to the audience. Once we got into tech, the world we’d built and the tension we’d created in rehearsals really came to life with the addition of lighting and sound.

What do you hope audiences take away from Bella’s character and the story as a whole?

I think Bella really represents what a lot of teenagers are dealing with right now, especially with social media and AI being such a huge part of everyday life. That constant desire to fit in at school, mixed with the pressure to always be online and present yourself a certain way, feels incredibly relevant — particularly with all the conversations happening around banning social media for under-16s.

I hope audiences see Bella as someone who’s funny and relatable, but also come away with a real understanding of how damaging online bullying can be, and just how dangerous social media can become — not just for teenagers, but for anyone. And honestly, they probably won’t be in a rush to invite a lodger to stay anytime soon!

How does touring the UK and Ireland with this production compare to your previous theatre experiences?

It’s been so exciting getting to bring this show all over the UK and explore so many wonderful cities! I’m loving hearing the different audience reactions in each place we go and how they vary from city to city, keeping the play feeling so alive! I’ve also not been to many of the places we are touring, so it’s been so fun getting to explore new cities, as well as visit some old favourites again. 

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Lucas Closs

The Sequel is a new comedy-drama from emerging writer Lucas Closs. When a novelist returns to the place that made her, she must face the people living with her version of them. We sat down with Lucas to discuss their upcoming production.


What was the very first spark that led you to write The Sequel?

I kept coming across places that had become museums of themselves, honouring their own depiction in a work of art. The setting of The Sequel (designed by Peiyao Wang) is a cafe preserved as the novelist’s description of it, not only out of the need for tourism but to celebrate a shared story, in the play this is Grace’s novel. I like how with these kinds of places there’s a gulf between the expectations set by the artist and their reality. 

The play explores what happens when real people become characters in someone else’s story. Is that something you have ever worried about in your own writing?

Grace Thoth (played by Nisha Emich) writes the story of her adolescence. Though I don’t tend to write non-fiction, the characters I write are composites of quite a few people that I tend to be unaware of while writing them- I usually don’t realise who they resemble until the last minute and quickly must change a few details. 

Grace returns to the place that inspired her book and discovers the consequences of turning life into literature. What fascinates you about the relationship between writers and their “material”?

How Grace used her surroundings for material, particularly her encounters with her old mentor, John (played by Jim Findley), is like how we all at times extract from and neglect our environment and the people in it for the sake of a story. Viewing things as ‘material’ can prevent us from existing or connecting with what’s in front us. Neither Grace or John are really able to hear or see each other due to their emotional distractions. 

Your work has been described as blending contemplation with menace. How do you balance humour and darker themes on stage?

I tend to try and find the balance by what feels plausible. A good dose of humour can sometimes feel more real that pure drama. I also think humour is a grounded and enjoyable way to explore themes such as resentment and isolation. I’m very dependent on the director, Imy Wyatt Corner, to tell me what are strange jokes I’ve made up with myself and what translates on stage. 

If audiences leave the theatre debating one question about authorship or responsibility, what would you hope that question might be?

This is the core tension for Martha played by Julia Pilkington- should I live my life as the central character in a story, or should I live ‘unnarrated’? 


The Sequel comes to Kings Head Theatre, London on Monday 20th April – Saturday 2nd May 2026. For more information visit: https://kingsheadtheatre.com/whats-on/the-sequel-5tbn

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Paco Peña

We sat down for an exclusive interview with Paco Peña, the world-renowned flamenco guitarist, composer and producer.

Paco Peña’s show Solera returns to Sadler’s Wells Theatre on 2nd-4th April- Tickets here.


As you return to Sadler’s Wells Theatre with Solera, how has your relationship with this stage evolved over the four decades you’ve performed there, and what continues to inspire you at 83?

It is a big stage, a great space: imposing and inspiring! I recently stumbled upon a recording of my group “Live at Sadler’s Wells”, made in 1980 and I did feel the buzz of those times. It was a wonderful space then and it remains a wonderful Institution that inspires me now as it has consistently done over the years!

In Solera, inspired by the Andalusian wine-aging system, how do you balance preserving the purity of flamenco tradition with embracing the fearless experimentation of younger artists like Dani de Morón?

Dani is a very special case. He is not only perfect for his role in the show, and I am delighted he is part of the group. I’m sure experimentation has been very much present in his working out ideas and compositions. But when it comes to him delivering them, there is already a rich, special solera taste in his playing! I’m sure he’s always loved his tradition, and his rare talent has allowed him to carry and display it naturally, ahead of the pack.

Having moved to London in the 1960s, how did presenting flamenco to international audiences reshape your own understanding of this deeply Andalusian art form?

My aim was to always project flamenco in what I understood to be its pure, true form so, it wasn’t really ‘reshaping’ but learning, by direct contact with audiences and their reactions, whether or not I was getting there! I also had never left my family or my culture behind; I was very connected with Córdoba and its people, my people; and obviously flamenco is very much part of that!

Your long creative partnership with Jude Kelly spans two decades—how has that collaboration influenced the theatrical dimension of your flamenco productions?

Enormously and in many ways. The first show we did was a trip, as it were, through flamenco’s history. I more or less knew how I wanted to start but, quite apart from the musical ideas Jude placed me at a desk working with a computer! She noticed I might have been somewhat alarmed at the idea and with total confidence she said; “Don’t worry, trust me, it will really work!” And from then on the scene revealed the rest of the company among old furniture, dry autumn leaves and more… and it placed us truly in another era. It was great! That was only the beginning of a wonderful journey with Jude and her incredible imagination!

As the founder of the Córdoba International Guitar Festival and the world’s first Professor of Flamenco Guitar, what responsibility do you feel in shaping the next generation of flamenco artists?

I think Solera tries to address that very question, and I would also add that new generations must remain absolutely in contact with – indeed, they must own – the universal range of emotions that flamenco contains and be fully prepared to express them in their projects, uncompromisingly!

Looking back on a career that has taken you from Ronnie Scott’s Jazz Club to Carnegie Hall, what has remained constant in your artistic mission, and what continues to evolve?

A constant for me has been the nerves and cold hands I suffer before I walk onto the stage! When I am on it, though, I just want to tell the truth and honour it, while remaining open to new ways of interpretation.

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Stasi Schaffer 

Glasgow theatre and opera director Stasi Schaffer works internationally across new writing, musicals and opera, spanning both contemporary work and the established repertoire. Her practice is driven by a desire to create intelligent, relevant and exciting storytelling that resonates with audiences, illuminates their lives, and helps make sense of our place in the world. Alongside her directing work, she is also a lecturer at Royal Conservatoire of Scotland, where she is passionate about supporting and expanding opportunities for young creatives in Scotland.

Her upcoming new musical Flora, based on the life of one of Scotland’s most famous daughters Flora MacDonald, is set to premiere at Glasgow Pavilion this 26-28th March.


What initially drew you to Flora as a project, and how did your interest in Scottish stories influence your decision to direct this musical?

I was attracted to Flora because it was a musical about a historic woman told in a very interesting way. I really liked the idea that this story is quite unknown to most Scots, but that her part in history was very pivotal. I also really liked the idea of shedding light on untold women in history. It is important to me that their stories are told, and the fact that it has great music is a real bonus.

How would you describe your directorial approach to a new musical like Flora—particularly one that re-centres a historic figure like Flora MacDonald in her own voice?

I have been lucky to be involved with this story for quite a few years, so I have been able to work on the development of the piece from its early stages. I really feel committed to it because I was able to work with the writer and composers to get it where it is for production.

I am very focused as a director on what is Flora’s story. How can we make that clear, relatable and exciting for the audience? We have a great team and a terrific cast, so it helps that it is very entertaining as well. What is the story? What is Flora’s journey and how can we bring the audience in to join us?

The story of Flora MacDonald spans imprisonment, migration, war and family—how have you worked to balance the historical context with emotional storytelling for contemporary audiences?

When I first heard Flora’s story I was shocked. She was in the middle of two major historical events on two continents in her lifetime, so the drama is there and constantly exciting for the audience.

One of Flora’s major themes is home and family. That was so important to her—she was driven to keep her family together and be home. I think that is relatable to us all and feels like something we keep hearing about even as time marches on.

Collaborating with writer Belle Jones and composers AJ Robertson & John Kielty must bring unique energy—how have those creative relationships influenced your vision for the show?

Yes, it is so nice to have worked with them over the past few years. Not only do we have a good relationship, but I feel like I understand their intentions, which helps. They have all been generous with their time with the cast as well, and John is actually the musical director, so he is in the room with me contributing.

Knowing them all and the vision we are working towards together is great because I understand what their intentions were, which makes it easier for me to help shape the show. Because everyone is still involved, we can stay connected and have a united focus.

Your career spans theatre, opera and new writing—how do these diverse experiences inform your work on musical projects like Flora?

They all feed into the projects I work on. Flora has amazed me in that it combines all those elements—it’s a new musical that we developed, so a new work, it is a theatre piece, but it has a lot of music and many of the emotional moments are told through song. It is great to work on something that combines all of my interests.

I am a believer in the idea that all the work you have done before helps to teach you lessons for the next project, and I do think that this is a good example of the other work I have done preparing me for this one.

At RCS you teach and mentor emerging directors as well as create work—how does that educational role inform your own rehearsal room leadership and collaboration with cast and creative teams?

Working with the students at RCS is such a good reminder of good practice in rehearsal. After a while you can stop consciously thinking about certain details or things you do automatically. When I talk about them with students, I become more mindful of those details and can ensure they remain part of my practice.

The collaboration we teach at RCS is such an important aspect, and it inspires me to work hard at creating a great collaborative experience for everyone involved.

What do you hope audiences take away from Flora, both in terms of their understanding of Flora MacDonald’s life and their experience of the show as a piece of theatre?

This production deals with a very important part of Scottish history and tells the story of a heroine who is relatively unknown. I hope audiences leave with more understanding of that time and the forces at play. It also shares a lot of Gaelic culture, which is a valuable opportunity to see that represented on stage.

The show is very emotional, with both challenging experiences and joyful moments, and I hope audiences enjoy that journey. It also has a lot of earworms, so I don’t doubt people will leave humming a tune or two.

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Hannah Caplan

Hannah Caplan is a writer and visual artist working across painting, ceramics and fibre art. THIS IS NOT ABOUT ME. is her debut play, with her visual practice directly informing the production’s hand-crafted set and material language. We sat down with Hannah to discuss her upcoming performance.

THIS IS NOT ABOUT ME. will run at Soho Theatre (Upstairs) from 25th March to 18th April, running for 70 minutes. For more information and tickets, visit https://sohotheatre.com/events/this-is-not-about-me/. The show will then transfer to at 59E59 Theaters in New York City in May.


This Is Not About Me places a writer onstage who is actively shaping – and arguably reshaping – a shared relationship. What first drew you to the ethical tension between storytelling and ownership? Was this play born from a curiosity about memory, or from a concern about control?

God, it would be brilliant if it had been born from something high-minded… This play was actually born out of a really base, non-intellectual place; fuelled by Pro-Plus and a clawing need to make Dougie laugh.

But once I had a third or fourth draft, I started to get properly pretentious with it. I put on a turtleneck and read Jean Baudrillard; however, it really did just start with sex jokes and giggling.

What slowly emerged through the writing process became a much knottier question about who “owns” a shared experience. The play follows Grace staging her version of a relationship in front of the person who lived it with her. I became fascinated by the way memory is rarely shared in quite the same way between two people. So, the narrative of exploring what happens when someone you care for doesn’t recognise themselves in your version of events felt exciting and dramatic, and probably something that a lot of people have experienced in one form or another.

Grace frames the act of writing as processing and repair, yet Eli increasingly challenges her right to tell the story. Do you see the play as a critique of autobiographical art-making – or as a defence of it? Where do you personally sit within that debate?

I don’t think the play lands neatly on one side. I’m deeply suspicious of anyone claiming objectivity, including artists. I think it’s normal to make art in response to your experience of life. That’s certainly how we start, drawing crayon pictures of our families standing outside our homes, with labelled names for clarity. Personally, I can’t imagine how I could make art that wasn’t a reflection of the people I love, the music I listen to and the things that make me laugh. I think all art is autobiographical, every painting is a self-portrait, just some are more abstract than others. 

What would be messy, however, would be conflating autobiographical art with truth or reality. 

The production makes the act of writing visible through live typing, film and multimedia. How important was it for you that the audience witnesses the mechanics of authorship rather than simply consuming a finished narrative?

When I’m writing, I try not to think about the audience, or I think I’d go mental. Normally I’m thinking about Amaia, Dougie and Francis, and what will be fun for them to work with.

That said, I liked the idea that the story never feels fully settled. You watch Grace typing it into existence, sometimes changing it mid-flow, which is slightly exposing. The live text and film mean you’re aware of the edits as they happen so it’s like you can feel the narrative shifting as you watch; you’re never entirely sure whether you’re watching memory or invention.

In terms of authorship, I don’t think I’ll ever get over the transcendentality of creating. It’s a very special process that I am so grateful to get to experience. I tend to write about it because it means so much to me. 

Your background as a fibre artist directly informs the hand-crafted, crocheted set design. How does working materially – through thread, texture and physical craft – influence the way you construct emotional narratives on the page?

Fibre arts have taught me about the importance of craft, of practice and of learning from our elders. Writing is a skill I am developing and am constantly making mistakes in. I get better by continuing to do it and learning from people who have been doing it longer than me.

With fibre, you’re looping thread through itself, building something slowly, sometimes unpicking it when you realise you’ve gone wrong. It’s patient and occasionally humbling, which feels very similar to writing. When you watch Grace working through her version of events, she’s doing something comparable – adjusting, tightening, occasionally distorting the shape of things.

There’s something vulnerable about seeing the labour in something handmade. You can see where it’s been stitched together. I wanted the world of the play to feel like that too – visibly constructed, human, and honest about the effort it takes to turn experience into something shareable.

The play has been described as “a romcom with fangs.” How consciously were you engaging with the conventions of romantic storytelling, and at what point did you decide to tear that genre open rather than simply inhabit it?

Yes, Lynn Gardner wrote better copy about our play than we did so huge shout out to her!

One of the first things I knew about this script was that it was going to be non-linear. So I read as many non-linear plays and screenplays as I could find in order to figure out how they work. I noticed quite quickly that the vast majority of commercially successful non-linear plays and screenplays were variations on the romcom: Annie Hall, (500) Days of Summer, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, and arguably Harold Pinter’s Betrayal.

I think perhaps, in order to go along with the conceit of non-linearity, audiences need the universality of the love story and the relief of comedy; otherwise it all becomes a bit too much head and not enough heart.

After I had written my version of the non-linear romcom, I brought it to Dougie, who said: “Hannah, I love it, but this is not a love story. It’s a horror.” We started to blend those genres from there.

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Alessia Siniscalchi


We sat down with Alessia Siniscalchi to chat about her latest show, Garden Party – Truman Capote’s Black and White Celebration. Artistic Director of Kulturscio’k, she grew up in Italy and is based in Paris, and has been developing Garden Party for more than a year. Her work is strongly influenced by questions of gender, power, desire, and social performance, and collaborates with artists from diverse cultural backgrounds.


Your work often interrogates social performance—what drew you to Truman Capote’s Black and White Ball as a lens through which to explore that idea on stage?

My work explores social performance, and Capote’s Ball is less interesting to me as a party than as a mechanism of success and sabotage. I want to precise that the party in our show is not real. And if there is no party now here will probably be an after party. I’m fascinated by how a genius can orchestrate their own fall. Capote built a world of glamour and power, yet through his own trajectory, he contributed to the collapse of his position. In Garden Party, I use the Ball as a lens to explore how visibility, desire and recognition can turn into exclusion and self-destruction. It becomes a space to question not only who succeeds, but how success itself contains the seeds of its own undoing.

Having grown up in Italy and now based in Paris, how do those different cultural sensibilities shape the way you approach power, desire and identity in Garden Party?

Yes, coming from different cultural contexts—and from a family of lawyers, having been trained in law myself before choosing art—has shaped how I approach power, desire and identity. These perspectives allow me to navigate between instinct and structure, emotion and analysis. My work reflects this multiplicity: identity is never fixed, but fragmented and evolving. Each piece becomes a space where these different influences meet, creating a dialogue between cultures, disciplines and personal histories.  The power of passion  is the only kind of power I recognize as interesting and desirable. My idea of life and art is that they are intertwined to the point that there is no line of demarcation. That is why this line by Truman Capote became the signature of my exploration. 

The show blurs cabaret, theatre and immersive experience—what possibilities does that hybridity unlock for you that a more traditional form wouldn’t?

Blending cabaret, theatre and immersive experience allows me to move beyond the idea of a fixed performance. There is a written structure, but also space for improvisation and transformation. I’m not interested in producing a static object, but in creating an evolving process. Each version of Garden Party changes—performers, dynamics, even the relationship to space. This hybridity opens a freedom where the work can adapt and grow, rather than repeat itself. It allows contradictions and different artistic languages to coexist, creating a living experience rather than a closed form.

As both director and performer, how do you navigate your own presence within a work that actively invites the audience into the same social “game”?

I navigate between structure and exposure. As a director, I build the framework; as a performer, I enter the uncertainty of the moment. In the improvised sections, I invite the audience into an experience  where they are selected rather  than a defined “social game.” The goal is to create a situation where spectators become aware of their own position—how they look, judge, or participate. My presence is not about control, but about opening a space where something unstable and real can happen, even for me. Capote himself was very unstable with a childhood filled with violence and abuse. And when he meets Perry Smith to create his masterpiece In Cold Blood, Capote himself was then declaring that if he knew what this book could create, he would have decided to stop in Garden city.

Capote’s world was built on glamour and exclusion—how do you invite audiences to both indulge in and critique that seductive surface?

Capote’s world was built on glamour, but also on exclusion. I’m interested in that seductive surface—because it’s precisely what makes the system powerful. Today more than before when we keep discovering horrible things on the Epstein files .. social hypocrisy brought people to trust a miserabile like him.  The audience is invited to enter this world, to enjoy it, but also to feel its contradictions. Not to be attracted but repulsing it. To hear gossips and secrets spreading in the room while we sing the original song Our Lady has a secret.  What seems like a celebration reveals underlying hypocrisy and tension. The piece doesn’t only speak about Capote, but about our society today, where similar dynamics persist. The critique emerges through experience, not through distance.that is why  we wrote Fear of darkness . A song about the fear to be forgotten. 

Working with a diverse, international group of collaborators, how do different artistic and cultural perspectives challenge or sharpen your vision for the piece?

Working with international collaborators brings complexity, and that’s essential. I don’t expect them to simply follow my vision—instead, I consider them as full creators within the work. Each performer, artist or collaborator contributes their own perspective, language and identity. The dramaturgy is built through this encounter. My role is to hold the direction, but also to allow space for these different voices to transform the piece. This process makes the work richer, more unstable, and more alive.

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Alexandrina Hemsley

We sat down for an exclusive interview with Alexandrina Hemsley about her new show, Many Lifetimes, at Sadlers Wells.

This show runs from 26th March – 27th March at 8pm – Tickets here: https://www.sadlerswells.com/whats-on/yewande-103-many-lifetimes/


Many Lifetimes unfolds beneath a suspended linen canopy and a gentle rain of melting ice. Can you talk about the symbolism of these materials and how they shape the emotional landscape of the piece?

Of course! The symbolism of these materials stems from both personal experiences and wider cultural, embodied or psychological processes. Linen holds significance in burial rituals – and I drew on its light but structured textures within a close family burial several years before making this piece. I knew I wanted to work with it sensitively in some way as part of Many Lifetimes, and collaborating with set designer Rūta Irbīte became really crucial. I really trusted her approach and her encouragement to dive deeper into how something so personal could translate on stage. 

As part of making the canopy that is suspended above the performance space, Rūta buried the fabric for several weeks. Once she unearthed it, we then repaired the holes that had formed with orange-red overlocking thread. The threads become scars, rivers, and borders, membranes…symbolic of the fragmentation and the way lives re-form around grief. 

I’ve often turned to the emotional landscapes of water in my live works, films, and creative and critical writing. Across these pieces, I’ve explored how water can hold, flood, soothe, and nourish BIPOC disabled bodies across different timescales, from the historic to the contemporary.

I knew I wanted to work with ice in some way – to have an element of the set that operates on a different timeframe to the dancing. In the dance-installation, ice melts through the canopy and drips onto the stage. I love how this introduces its own rhythm and sense of time. Its symbolism is immediate and layered: from the climate crisis to the use of ice for pain relief. I’m drawn to elements that can hold multiple meanings and operate across different scales at once.

The work explores tidal cycles of love, loss and repair. How have your own personal archives and experiences informed the choreography and structure of this installation?

My experiences of motherhood, care work and bereavement have shaped both my artistic practice and my desire to explore how we navigate profound moments of change in our lives. Part of coming to terms with more traumatic experiences of loss and/or sudden illness has been finding ways to work with symbolism in the set and with emotional landscapes in movement.

The choreography is deliberately gently paced to allow space for audience reflection, perhaps for their own memories to surface. The structure of a solo that passes from one performer to the next traces shifts in state and lived, archival experience across each dancer. When we later dance as a group in an open improvisation, I wanted to get a sense of how important it is to hold diverse experiences within a community.

Yewande 103 places community at the heart of its practice. How did collaborating with dancers, musicians and disability access advocates influence both the aesthetic and the ethics of this production?

Thank you so much for asking about aesthetics specifically — it feels important to say that disabled artists are so often asked to consult on access, or to demonstrate accessible work, rather than being given space to experiment with how we talk about the work we make and what aesthetics emerge because of working in accessible ways. Those are very different invitations.

Throughout the Many Lifetimes process, I kept wondering why I had turned to water again, and why the first live work I was presenting in London in five years had a slow and gentle dramaturgy. It was only in reflection that I realised I had made a work through and of crip-time — without consciously intending to. I had embodied and choreographed an aesthetic out of something I had long used as a tool: bringing compassion to my own experience as a disabled maker, and what I bring to organisations I consult with. It was a strange and moving thing — a concept moving from thought into body. From theory into choreography.

Part of the collaboration has been trying to understand why I keep returning to water — the heartache and the solace of it — and finding that reckoning held so richly in the work of Black poets and scholars. That became something to do in collaboration, not alone.

Ethically, a central partnership has been with We Are Sensoria, and we’ve worked hard to hold flexible rehearsal schedules — genuinely trying to honour crip-time rather than just naming it. We have also worked with Shivaangee Agrawal to integrate poetic audio description into the work. 

But I also want to be honest about the tensions. The lights reflecting off the mirrored floor can be very bright, and the ice can be slippery — so accessibility is sometimes held in a real conundrum rather than a clean resolution. The same symbolism that lets us explore watery, tidal aesthetics can pull against the politics of inclusive practice. I find that tension worth sitting with rather than smoothing over — it feels more truthful to the work.

The performance is described as a “community of transforming solos,” with movement passing tenderly from one performer to the next. What does that act of transformation mean to you artistically and politically?

I guess I understand processes of change as a series of questions rather than a landing point. How have my inner and outer worlds changed? Am I allowed to change, or to be changed? And perhaps most tenderly,  can a community hold change? Can it bear the weight of someone else’s processing?

The phrase “community of transforming solos” feels true to something I believe about the hope of how change could be held within communities and how change could move — not as a single sweeping shift, but passed between people. 

My practice has long been about finding ways to ask embodied questions into wider political landscapes; whether that’s transforming who gets to be on stage, how Black and disabled and neurodivergent people are represented, or being part of a broader ecology of artists and advocates who are genuinely trying to imagine more equitable futures.

Accessibility is embedded into the performances through audio description, relaxed performances and touch tours. How do you approach access not as an addition, but as a creative driver within the work?

I approach access as a continual, exciting ecology of needs. I have learnt a great deal from the disabled communities I am a part of and how we are each approaching exactly this – how to bend expectations of accessibility in creative ways. Since making my open template access rider in 2019 (freely available for anyone to download), I ask what access needs are of those I work with. I work with improvisation as an invitation to let a body express itself in a very individual way and then consider (and re-consider) what working conditions best support a person to do that within the work. How to make work accessible is a question we return to over and over again in a creative process – not one to tick off and then move on from. 

I still can’t realise certain visions I have due to not only competition for funds but, more pertinently,  funding practices. For example, I have big dreams of one day animating poetic, creative captions or actually paying myself and my freelance collaborators for rest days, but the industry standard of including access costs within the main budget of any callout or commission is really stifling the production values of disabled-led work. Things are shifting, and separate access budgets are being seen more, but there is still work to be done through solidarity and undoing restrictive, discriminatory policies and habits for non-disabled people and institutions so that disabled people aren’t the only ones imagining otherwise. 

After 17 years of creating contemporary dance nationally and internationally, what feels different or newly urgent about Many Lifetimes at this point in your artistic journey?

It really does feel like a work that connects so many different aspects of my creative practice- movement, poetry, collages, access advocacy, and intergenerational performance. And that’s quite something to pull together in one space! It’s a work that relishes in being more than one thing, and I think that is as pertinent today as when I first started making work that refused to be captured by any one definition of identity. 

It feels like a solidifying moment, too, somehow. In seeking to make a work that arose out of wanting to hold my own lived experiences of bereavement and profound change within a community, I feel like I got to reflect on the personal-political power of gathering to witness change and grief in 2026. I also realised how much I welcome inviting audiences from all walks of life and backgrounds into my work – a chance to hold and be held.

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Choir Boy

We were delighted to attend the media call for Choir Boy, set to open at Stratford East later this month. The play is a transfer from the critically acclaimed Bristol Old Vic run in 2023, picking up 3 Black British Theatre Awards including Best Director and Best Production. We had the incredibly exciting opportunity to watch a scene and song from the show, and interview the cast and creative team afterwards. 

Choir Boy is a coming of age story set in an elite all Black boarding school in America. 

“Pharus is a confident and gifted singer who has earned his position as soloist. But when his pride is sullied by one of his peers, he falters… what does it mean to be a young, Black, queer man – and to be one at the Charles R. Drew Prep School for Boys?” 

We are presented with a scene from the beginning of the play, where we are introduced to the boys in their choir room, settling into another day at school. We immediately get a sense of the dynamics between the students, particularly the sense of responsibility and leadership of Pharus, and the cynical, antagonistic nature of Bobby. The scene ends with the boys joining hands in prayer singing the song I Couldn’t Hear Nobody Pray. We sat down with Tatenda Shamiso, co-director and cast members Daon Broni, Khalid Daley, Michael Ahomka-Lindsay and Martin Turner to discuss the production.


In Conversation with: Tatenda Shamiso, co-director

Interviewer: How does it feel to step back into doing the show after two years? And how has your life perspective or experiences or context changed in between runs?

Tatenda: It’s an absolute gift being able to return to this play. We had the most amazing time [doing] the show in Bristol and we were really hoping for the opportunity to be able to share it with more people. I feel like the work is a lot more urgent now in 2026 than it was in 2023. The United States, but also the world in general, certainly the West, is sort of taking this lean further towards fascism. I do think that we are in more segregationist times in the U.S., so to have this space where we are dealing with the pressures of maintaining a black legacy and the pressures of black excellence on a group of very young boys […] it feels like a very important time because it’s a conversation that’s reverberating all over the country and the world. We’ve all gotten more seasoned and [the] new faces in our cast have reinvigorated us with new life. Now we’ve got this extra time, we get to really focus on the storytelling and the journey that these boys are going on, which is such a beautiful opportunity. Stratford’s house is so beautiful it feels like a great place to be bringing it from Bristol Old Vic. We’ve all come back really hungry.

I: So, the show is set in an elite boys school in America. What kind of inspirations did you give to the British members of the team to kind of bring that authentic Black American experience? 

T: I think we are lucky in that Nancy (the director) is American, I’m American myself and our voice and dialect coach Andrea Fudge is also from the US. Also Ingrid McKinnon, our movement director, is North American as well. So we’ve got a pretty sturdy, American stronghold in the creative team to hold that. 

I think that because the precinct of this story is so specific, we were able to delve into the history quite precisely. So it was notions of black excellence, which I think are really important to deal with here because these boys are at this elite school, [there’s] the pressure to not just be academically good, but academically excellent. This is an environment that is meant to be leading the black future of tomorrow. As a result of that, we’re also looking at important orators that were really vital in the civil rights movement, such as, James Baldwin or Malcolm X. Also religious leaders like T.D. Jakes in more contemporary times. [We also thought] about the legacy of spirituals, because all of these songs are spirituals in that they’re acapella. [We looked at] the history of what spiritual and gospel music in the U.S. is, African American religious history, what it is to be part of the black church as opposed to different denominations of Christianity. I think a lot of that has formed the bedrock of our context, and it’s so great to visit those historical periods of the US and return to that legacy in a time where we really need black orators to be speaking up.

Terrell Alvin McCraney is an amazing playwright and has also given us so much to work with in terms of understanding the cadence of the speech of each character. So it’s not just a general American thing – this is a boarding school! They’re all coming from different parts of the country. [We’re asking] what is it like to come from this backwards part of Georgia? One of us is from Boca Raton. One of us is from Virginia or New York and what does the melting pot of American culture look like distilled in this one school?

I: How do you feel London audiences will respond to this show in comparison to the previous run?

T: I think that London’s going to love this play. I think that there’s always that question about bringing in cultural imports when the Black British experience is such a prevalent thing. And we don’t necessarily have the same repertoire or the canon of Black British writing. [Whereas] I feel like we’ve got a wealth of African-American writing now over the last several decades that can exist and be imported across the ocean. We do have a growing canon of Black British plays [and] it’s so important to stage those as well. But I do think that we’re at a time where America sneezes and the UK catches a cold. I do think that there are so many conversations that translate across the Atlantic in this show in particular. I think conversations about faith right now are really important. I’m Gen Z and I feel like [Gen Z] are shifting towards systems of faith and organized religion or just spirituality right now to find answers in such troubled and uncertain times. So it feels like the right time to be bringing this show to London.

In conversation with the cast Daon Broni, Khalid Daley, Michael Ahomka-Lindsay and Martin Turner: 

Interviewer: So how does it feel to step back into the roles after this original run? 

KD: I always say this to everyone – it feels like a gift from heaven. just to work with this piece, this writing, and this group of people. Yeah, it’s so special. It was special the first time, it feels even more special the second time because we’ve had time away, like you grow and you age. 

MA-L: I don’t know about you, I didn’t age!

KD: Yeah, you live life and then you come back to these characters and you’re like, ‘oh, okay, what have I learned about myself that I could bring to them?’ Which is incredibly rewarding. It’s been wonderful. 

MA-L: It is cool to sort of come back to something when you’ve changed yourself and your perspective has changed. It makes me think about hindsight as well because the play in general is about younger people. We’ve spoken a bit about how you look back on that time in your life and you can feel it. What’s even more interesting is how I have more hindsight now than I had then. And so there’s more I’m remembering or seeing about this experience in the play this time [around]. Hindsight really is 20-20! And the more hindsight you get, the better the sight is. 

MT: I feel three years older. Different things have happened in my life since then. I’m just getting to the right age [of my character], these guys are allwell past the appropriate age.

MA-L: Well! That “well” was heavy! 

I: So the show is set in an elite boy’s school in America and you guys are all British. What kind of inspirations from the American experience did you take (or were you given) to bring to your roles? 

MA-L: The music is one of the first and biggest gifts in the show. You hear the spirituals but also their voices and the way they speak is the most immediately recognisable thing when you’re reading the script. Everyone has a certain way and certain vernacular […] and the songs mostly live within the American cultural perspective. We did a lot of work on where each person comes from and how that’s relevant to their relationships and their stories. Who comes from where, who’s further away from home, who’s got a different way of speaking to other people, who has a different relationship with their religion […] just to try and create more detail. 

I: I appreciate the detail this show goes into. I really enjoy the intersection of cultural geography and theatre! 

MA-L: An interesting geographical and historical thing […] there used to be hundreds of black boarding schools in the US and now there’s only four left. It’s all connected to the history of the US, and the civil rights movement. [Looking at] why these schools were set up and what they were trying to achieve, which takes us into the black excellence lens. [Exploring] what these people are going through and what the institution represents, which is unique to America, really. We don’t have historically black universities in the U.K. so it’s something specific.

I: It’s some of your first times working at this venue. How do you feel coming back (addressed to Khalid) or bringing this show to this well-established, prestigious venue? 

KD: It’s such a blessing to come back. The first time I came to Stratford East, I did The Big Life – that was two years ago. I’d never experienced an audience like that who was so ‘in it’. And not just in the sense of like, ‘oh they’re watching’, they’re so ‘in it’. Like they’re rooting for characters and even being vocal about how they’re rooting for these characters. So I’m excited for the audiences to… eat this one up!

I: I am going to be eating it up! I love reacting to theatre and rooting for characters.

KD: It’s amazing, it feels unapologetic which I love. Sometimes I feel as though with British audiences it can be very reserved [like] ‘we don’t want to be too loud’. But here I think because it feels like such a treat and they’re so engrossed they can’t help but make noise, they can’t help but be vocal and say something!