Nye Russell Thompson
Nye Russell-Thompson is a theatre writer-performer based in Cardiff, and the founder of StammerMouth, a company he set up to ‘make shows about things that are difficult to talk about’.
At the 2023 Edinburgh Fringe, StammerMouth won the Mental Health Foundation Fringe Award for Choo Choo!, a show based on Nye’s experiences of intrusive thoughts. Choo Choo! is performed in the style of a colourful and funny children’s show, but gradually becomes something darker and more complex, as Nye’s best friend Duncan discovers that the real reason why Nye is so reluctant to go on holiday with him.
We interviewed Nye in November 2023 as we were developing our Performing Anxiety resource.
What are the kinds of things you need to consider when making creative work about mental health?
Well, first off, it’s absolutely paramount that you have wellbeing structures in place. As much as it’s important to explore a subject that is not spoken as much about for whatever reason, and as exciting as that is, I’ve learned that it’s really useful to have access to a mental health practitioner, be that a therapist or a mental health wellbeing officer in the room, if needed. I haven’t actually done that yet, but that would be how I would do it going forward. I think, as well, having a team of creatives who have similar experiences is very helpful, because we become that support network.
Although, again, without the mental health practitioner it can still lead to problems. What I’m about to say next would work better with a mental health practitioner in place, but I think the comfort to be able to put anything authentic around a personal mental health condition or experience (is important). And that is, obviously, down to having a really good dramaturg who understands the subject. It’s through playfulness, and games, that it feels more loose and free when it comes to talking about this kind of stuff. And the absolute right to tap out, or stop, or, have the agency to say, ‘I’m not doing this right now, I need to go have a break, and then I’ll come back and see how I feel.’
And I think just finding ways where you can put the agency back with the person who has experienced the mental health issues. Which is obviously why the work is trying to be made in the first place. Because I had no control over what my head was doing, I would like to show you what my head was doing. It’s agency as a form of control, a form of reclaiming, to be like, ‘this has been happening, but aren’t we fun and creative?’ if that makes sense.
But you didn’t have a mental health practitioner in the room when you made Choo Choo!?
No, and it comes with the attitude of ‘Oh, you’ll be fine,’ you know? And it was a turning point for me because I had a day where I just sort of broke down and couldn’t do anything and we had to call the whole day off. I just couldn’t continue. Yeah, a very, very noisy brain. And if there was a mental health practitioner in the room…. which is so funny, that none of us thought of that, even though we all tried to do best practice stuff. But this was one and a half years ago. I don’t know if this is gonna be related to another question you ask later but I think there’s a bad attitude, particularly in theatre, post COVID. In the pandemic, we were all like, ‘we should really look after ourselves, and we need to change the way that we’re working in theatre’. And then the restrictions ease and everyone just goes straight back to it, in fact probably harder than before. And it feels like no one’s learned. So, it’s moments like these where we’re like, ‘Oh, okay, the way that we’re working is not fit for purpose.’
What was it about COVID that changed attitudes, even if it was temporary?
It was the isolation. The thing about theatre is that it’s site reliant most of the time. Obviously you have to go to a place to experience theatre. I think because of that there was a lot of introspection from theatrical artists, because we couldn’t be where we wanted to be so we had to adjust.
I read an interview in which you talked about being at university and having a lecturer who taught you about making ‘safe autobiographical work’. I thought that was an interesting phrase. What did you mean by that and what was it that you learned at that time?
We’re actually talking (about) ten years ago, more or less to the month. My idea of safe autobiographical work at that time was just an ability to be in your own performance about something you’ve experienced but also have a distance from it at the same time. So what I learned at the time, and what I really enjoyed – and obviously, what has still carried through now – is the exploration of character and caricature in relation to your own experiences. The theatre I was used to seeing in university was sort of post structural, not really reliant on character, it was more just people being themselves on stage, and a little bit of storytelling. And I really wanted to combine that with my love for making character.
So over time, I made a show about my experience of stammering. And I learned that I could explore these things that have been really bothering me, that I’ve really struggled to talk about, but I can explore them in a fun way. I still had a bit of a stammer, but with this show I had to go back and sort of emulate what my stammer was like when I was younger, which is a lot more pronounced. And the funny thing is, I put it on for the show and then I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to stop it again. I was scared that I was bringing it back. But you learn through doing, and when the show ended I could just stop doing it. And it was like, what is happening here? This is strange, because it wasn’t just emulating the stammer, it was emulating it to a point where the pattern becomes regular again. So then all the things that I would do, you know, biting the inside of my mouth accidentally through stammering, or just not being able to get a sound out, it comes back for that hour, and then it’s gone.
So in relation to, say, autobiographical stuff, what you do is allow yourself, you know, 20 minutes to worry about it and then stop. I think it’s a similar thing, where you can bring it back for a time. And then it’s gone. It’s existed in that space and then has moved on.
How would you define a ‘safe autobiographical show’ then? What would that look like, assuming you’re dealing with something difficult that has happened to you?
I suppose it would be safe from the perspective of the person who has made it. So I think you start from a comfort level, from what do you want to talk about, how much of your experience, varying levels from okay to traumatic, how much of that do you want to talk about, and just ensuring that the person who’s making it is not going to expose themselves too much on stage in front of potentially hundreds of people. And I think, at least for me, it has to be a mix of truthful elements packaged and wrapped up in something more akin to caricature or character. In the example of Choo Choo!, that being a sort of safe, semi-autobiographical performance It’s bright and it’s fun and it’s silly. So you can still have that distance as a performer because there’s other things to focus on.
You’ve said you set up StammerMouth to make work about subjects that are hard to talk about. Can you talk a bit about why you wanted to make that the foundational idea of a theatre company?
Basically I had a fairly severe stammer. And then I found, by chance, that doing drama performing and stuff actually was pretty good speech therapy. And then it came to a point where I was, at university, struggling to communicate various things. And then I decided to make a show about my experience of stammering. There was a lot going on inside and I didn’t know how to articulate it. So I was like, ‘Okay, well obviously words don’t bloody help me here’. I can’t talk about my stammer, because I’m going to stammer. So I was like, let’s make a show about it instead. And that freed it up a little bit. I think the reason why I keep coming back to things that are hard to talk about is partly a selfish reason – not like a bad selfish reason, I just want to be able to talk about the things I have struggled to express in a way that will help other people who have also experienced it.
The intrusive thoughts one, you know, Choo Choo! took a lot longer to make than the stammering one. That was so much harder to talk about, because of the content, whereas the first show was hard to talk about because of the form. So I just think there’s a huge importance to raise awareness of things that people do not want to talk about.
What was the starting point for Choo Choo!?
My intrusive thoughts were very loud between the ages of 16 and 21. When I was in education, they would be quiet because I’d be busy, I was focused on my studies. After that stopped after university, I was just spat out the other side and had to move back in with my parents, because I didn’t have a job. And then everything just sort of blew up. And maybe six months after that I was actually like, it’d be really good to make a show about this. So I started talking to people who I knew – through talking candidly about my experience with them – had also had intrusive thoughts. So it started off as something that I knew I had to talk about, that I knew had to be the next show. And I didn’t know back then that my mantra was going to be, ‘make things about subjects that are hard to talk about.’ And around that time I had to focus on other things, so it sort of disappeared, but when it came back was about 2017. At that point it was called Fluff. The idea was that it would be another one person show and I would have a giant cotton wool head and there would be a giant thundercloud above that. And it went through various mutations. Sometimes it wasn’t me as the cloud, sometimes it would be a pupated thing that would scream at me and say ‘you’re a horrible person’. It went through a couple of R&D processes. What’s funny is that in the pandemic when a couple of restrictions had been lifted we did a little R&D in Cardiff. By that point it had changed its name to It Hertz, so the pun in the title – because I love a pun – was basically ‘intrusive thoughts hurts’. And it was going to relate to a radio thing which obviously became a different kind of radio. But exploring how to explore intrusive thoughts took a lot longer. How do you articulate everything? But you can’t articulate everything, you just have to choose.
Choo Choo! is quite an interactive show, and there’s a particularly memorable section where you ask audience members to applaud if they’ve had certain intrusive thoughts, some of them quite violent ones like wanting to push someone in front of a train. Can you talk a bit about the thinking behind that?
Yeah. So basically, it sort of became like celebrating. Or maybe celebrating is not the right word, but just to be like, ‘Whoo, yeah, I’ve had intrusive thoughts as well.’ Just to turn it into something a bit more engaging, a bit more fun. I think we did have an initial idea to say, ‘hands up’ but that turned very quickly into no, we don’t want to make people feel like they are exposing themselves. So it just becomes a clapping thing. I mean, the work that I make generally has a lot of audience interaction. Working with a team of people who come from different areas of theatre, I was determined to have a signature sort of style, to have audience interaction involved in what I make, not just for flippant reasons but for a purpose.
At various points through Choo Choo! there are moments where the audience are asked to describe something dangerous they could do with something. And that is the conversation element. That and the clapping and cheering for ‘have you ever thought about this?’ Because it’s not ‘have you ever had an intrusive thought? Aren’t you evil?’ It’s ‘Have you imagined doing this or thought about this?’ And so it just opens up the conversation. After our previews in Cardiff there was always a conversation that we had with some audience members, who would then start to open up about their own experiences. And this happened all the way through the Edinburgh Fringe run as well. So the artwork is the thing that gets people in, and then they have to take something with them as well, which is either some awareness of intrusive thoughts, or some awareness of their own experiences, maybe.
Are there responses in those post-show conversations that jumped out?
The one that leaps to mind initially is actually someone whose partner had the exact same intrusive thoughts as as the character of Nye in Choo Choo! It was around going on holiday and all the infinite possible dangerous things their partner could do to this person. And then they ended up just like cancelling the holiday. It was exactly what we’d written, and it was a real person who had experienced this from Duncan’s character’s perspective, where it’s like ‘what’s going on?’ and then everything stops. So that was very sad to hear. Obviously we want to make sure that things are grounded in real intrusive thoughts and anxieties and stuff, because I also personally haven’t been on holiday for eight or nine years because I’m just like, ‘what if all these things happen?’ So that’s interesting.
Obviously we have resources for people as well, so with these conversations that’s always a big element; if you need any support, beyond what a theatre show can do, please use these links and find out a bit more. But a lot of them were approached in quite a fun way. Like, you know, they’d be talking about their experiences, but sort of mirroring how the show was structured and set up and the aesthetics and the humour. They were approaching their intrusive thoughts from a point of lightheartedness. And so they were able to talk a bit more about it because we had set the tone, which was, like, funny but also aware of how awful these things are. And so conversations were just so much easier to have.
That’s really interesting, the idea that the tone of a show can set the tone of a post-show conversation, because my next question was going to be: how have those conversations been for you? Did you need to set boundaries?
Initially I think I was a bit nervous about it. And, especially after a show, you’re quite tired. So it’s like, ‘I don’t know how much capacity I have for this.’ But we just sort of got into a rhythm. I think, just because of how there was no structure to it, it wasn’t a Q&A, it was just some chats in the bar afterwards, there’s no pressure. And it just comes more naturally, I suppose. I think, as well, I don’t really have an issue with talking about my experiences, as much as I used to. I certainly don’t go around saying, you know, what my worst subject was because I think that would put me in a very vulnerable position.
But I think, just carrying on the mantra from the show, in terms of how we made it, which was just to make sure you’re not over exposing yourself. I think just having a good gauge for ‘what is too much?’ And I think it’s okay to be like, ‘this is a really good conversation but I just need to go and have some time outside for a sec.’
Is that easier if you’re part of a cast rather than doing it alone?
Yeah, absolutely. I just had a memory come back, when I was doing the one man show, and it was just handling loads of questions about stammering and anxiety and stuff on my own. And yeah, I was very burned out after each of those. I think with a team of people, or at least Duncan there, it was much easier than just on my own.
What would you say to an artist who wants to make a piece of work about their own mental health?
I think knowing why you’re doing it is really important. And to have a purpose beyond your experiences, to make sure you are trying to share something that might also benefit someone else who has that experience, because you will not be the only one who’s experienced it. And there will be people who are looking for solidarity, and then there will be people who will have no awareness of it at all. I think, going in with those two aims, that’s what I’ve sought to do. And also it’s just really important, beyond your own experiences, to have a grounding in a wider world when it comes to mental health stuff. Obviously, everyone’s experiences are different. But make sure that there is a wider purpose or that you’re working with people, so it’s not just you. Don’t isolate yourself as well, I think that’s really important. Try to work with a mental health practitioner, if you can.
Maybe split the load? Try to find someone who can, you know, manage your stuff, or be your producer. Don’t try to do everything because you will burn out. And you just need to focus on you, and your experiences, and what story you’re telling. And don’t give yourself too much work, because you will make your mental health worse.
And what would you say to people who want to programme and support this kind of work?
We’re in a world now where people’s access requirements, including mental health, need to be considered – and just to add something to your previous questions the artist should make an access rider as to how they work best. There are lots of templates online, it’s very straightforward. But I think venues should absolutely be looking for this kind of stuff, they need to programme as much of it as they can. And they should understand that with a mental health performance there’s a lot to consider in terms of just, you know, if you want to be a good ally and advocate for people with mental health problems, then you (should be) open to things like access riders, you’re open to things like calm spaces or relaxed performances, that the smorgasbord needs to be there and on offer. We need to be working, just generally, in an industry that puts wellbeing first. In a world where we haven’t necessarily learned from the pandemic, we just need to take things a bit slower.
What would a mental health access rider look like? I have a sense of what looks like for people with disabled / neurodivergent.
I think the term access rider is difficult, it doesn’t really say what the document actually is there to do, and it does come across a bit clinical. I think if it were called something else, like, I don’t know, ‘what I need to do to work my best’, it would be so much clearer. Obviously, it’s all down to the person and what they want to share. But things like, how many breaks you think you’re going to need, how much time would you like to assign to work on something, how much time you need to recover from something. Because I think a mental health access rider and a neurodivergence access rider would have a lot of similarities. It’s just, you know, ‘I have this thing, I need these things in order to work best’.
But each one is going to be different, as well as it being, you know, a working document that can change as you go on. It can be an expressive document as well. So it doesn’t have to be written out in one or two particular ways. When I’ve made my own access rider it’s always been quite artistic. Because I’m like, I just can’t submit a blank, sort of sterile looking document like that.
Performing Anxiety
A resource for people who want to make audience-facing or participatory arts projects about mental health.
