I moved from Berlin to Middlesbrough because I’m a dreamer – now our eyes are on City of Culture
This week, Middlesbrough was named on the longlist to be UK City of Culture in 2029.
I work in the town, as the director of Creative Factory, an organisation that secures affordable property for Boro creatives.
Anna Byrne (Image: Supplied)
I moved to Teesside ten years ago to open an artist residency with my partner, Liam.
I still remember that day.
We drove from Stockton out to Redcar, past the steelworks, and then across to Seaton Carew, where I had a half lot (the first of many) from the wonderful The Almighty Cod.
I couldn’t get over the huge skies against the flat iron sea.
Middlesbrough Art Week (Image: Rachel Deakin)
We’d lived as artists in Berlin for years, and now, we had big dreams – running our own arts space.
We emailed some people and were impressed when the artistic director of MIMA emailed us back.
We sat in his office, overlooking Middlesbrough’s Centre Square.
Middlesbrough Art Week (Image: Middlesbrough Art Week)
‘I have to ask,’ he said.
‘Why are you moving from Berlin to Middlesbrough?’
Why were we moving?
Rents were low.
We could take a chance on ourselves, take a leap.
Middlesbrough Art Week (Image: Rachel Deakin)
But really, we moved because we’re dreamers and Liam fell in love with the Dorman Long building – immense and proud against the startlingly blue, wide-open sky.
That Christmas, my dad gave me a framed quotation: ‘Whatever you can dream you can do, begin it.
Boldness has magic and power in it.’
We rented a three-storey townhouse. It was going cheap because it had been a drug den.
Liam spent three weeks clearing out old mattresses, painting walls, taking up carpets.
We called it The Auxiliary Project Space and invited artists to visit.
We grew vegetables in the front garden, got chatting to our neighbours.
A few weeks later, the artists started arriving.
They saw what we saw – an exhilarating mix of industry and nature.
We got our first grant from Arts Council.
We jumped up and down in the kitchen.
We sat in Wetherspoon’s over a plate of nachos and cheap pints.
Our dreams were a pack of cards, and we turned them over to see what they revealed – what about a gallery, artist studios, a gig space?
Hold on – what about a festival?
And with every card turned over, the support came.
Here was arts organisation Navigator North, supporting us with a grant so we could set up Middlesbrough Art Week.
Here was the formidable Michelle Shelton, Middlesbrough Council’s town centre manager, calling the landlord of a warehouse we wanted to use as a gallery, to vouch for us.
Here was the head of culture, with just the programme to unlock some social finance for us so we could buy that warehouse and make it a home for artists.
The first year we ran Middlesbrough Art Week, we painted walls, covered windows in black bin bags, harassed real estate agents and showed seventeen artists in three different spaces along Albert Road.
We did it with a crew of paint-covered, exhausted volunteers.
Every one of us was smiling.
Now, every September, MAW showcases dozens of local artists alongside hundreds of international artists like Tim Etchells, Eimear Walshe and David Shrigley.
It’s become the largest contemporary arts festival in the North East.
Middlesbrough is on the frontier of something.
Where some say there is nothing, I say there is everything.
It’s why, ten years on, I’m still here. Still working.
Because I’m a believer. I believe in the vibrancy, ingenuity and talent of the people working here.
I believe in the soul of what it offers.
And it’s why, last winter, a group of us sat down to support Gaye Kirby, our head of culture, to write the expression of interest for City of Culture.
It’s what we do in this place, support each other.
It was an ordinary day, the sky low over Albert Park.
There we were, armed with tea and coffee, biscuits and dreams.
One of us started to speak. Others joined in. Gaye started to write.
Middlesbrough, longlisted for City of Culture. This is where dreaming gets you.