by Jess Thom - Aug 4, 2016
The world’s largest arts festival? Not if you’re a visually impaired child, or a wheelchair user with Tourette’s. Before I arrived at the Edinburgh Fringe in August 2014, I’d seen only nine theatre shows in my whole life. For a 34-year-old theatre-lover, this doesn’t sound impressive, but, as a wheelchair user with Tourette’s, my access to live performance has often been difficult, and at times intensely emotional.
But through my love of storytelling, comedy and theatre, I persevered, and this led to the creation of my first show, Backstage in Biscuit Land, which debuted at the Edinburgh Fringe two years ago.
By the end of my first week, the number of performances I’d seen had already doubled – but this wasn’t without access challenges bigger than the hills. I left tired, inspired and excited, but also frustrated by how difficult aspects of it had been. I contacted the Edinburgh Festival Fringe Society, and it seemed receptive to my feedback and keen to make improvements.
So, as the world’s largest arts festival opens for another year, how is it faring? To answer this, I revisited my top three frustrations from previous years:
Inconsistent information and use of symbols in brochures
At my first fringe, I’d found the abundance of choice overwhelming, between shows, venues and even the number of brochures. To confuse matters further, there was little consistency in the way access information was listed.
For example, in the main fringe brochure, I discovered that just because there wasn’t a wheelchair symbol next to a show, it didn’t mean the venue itself wasn’t accessible. It could just mean that a company hadn’t completed that part of their listing form. The only way to be certain was to check the detailed venue information at the back of the brochure, a time-consuming process.
So in 2016, has this been resolved? Of the first 24 shows in the fringe brochure, 11 either had no access symbols at all or had information that seemed contradictory. Cross checking this against the detailed venue information revealed that four apparently non-accessible shows were, in fact, accessible.
Worryingly, there’s one – at Le Monde (venue 47) – that’s listed as accessible, but according to the venue information appears not to be. To clarify, I called the venue and was told: “There are five steps at the entrance, no ramp or other way in, but we say it’s wheelchair accessible because there are always staff to help people get in.” Ridiculous as having to write this is, five steps is not wheelchair accessible.
Uncovering this made me worry about the other 13 apparently accessible listings, so I double-checked all of these, too, and found another show where the listing and venue information contradicted each other. This time it was the Liquid Room Annexe (venue 276), but when I called to clarify, I couldn’t get through. Wheelchair users be warned.
So in just two of the 367 pages of listings, 25% had inaccurate or misleading access information. Working this out took me two hours, two phone calls, and several sheets of paper, and because I didn’t get through to the Liquid Room, I haven’t even completed the task.
Choosing what to see is integral to the Edinburgh experience for everyone. But the processes for doing this are still far from equal. I want to be scratching my head wondering what amazing work to see, not tearing my hair out worrying about where I can physically get in. Choosing a show shouldn’t feel like an IQ test.
Not being able to book tickets online or via the app
In 2014, I kept being told how handy the fringe app was for booking tickets. I downloaded it only to discover that it wouldn’t let me book either wheelchair spaces or companion tickets. I couldn’t do this on the website, either; in fact, it took me more than a week to find out that I needed to call a separate access phone line to book tickets.
To my delight, this year both the website and app include customisable searches for access information. It’s fantastic – you can now see which shows are wheelchair accessible, captioned, audio-described or relaxed (though of course this information depends on it having been correctly entered in the first place).
But, and it’s a big one, having found the accessible show you want, you still can’t book the tickets electronically.
When I called the access team to check why this was the case, I was given two explanations: “We can’t trust the general public not to abuse companion tickets,” and: “With so many venues, it’s too logistically complicated to allocate wheelchair spaces online.”
Neither issue seems insurmountable to me. And there’s a strong business case for resolving both. People increasingly expect to be able to book online, and because it’s quick and easy, it’s more likely that they’ll follow through on purchases or book on an impulse. The access team is great to talk to on the phone, but the process is far less spontaneous.
In an age of robot-assisted surgery, hoverboards, and GPS that’s accurate to within 3 metres, I’m sure there’s a way to create verified user accounts and match wheelchair users with allocated seating.
It’s not good enough for disabled people to simply ‘be able’ to book – we deserve equality of experience; this is how inclusive audiences will be built and maintained.
The low numbers of signed, captioned, audio-described and relaxed performances
Disabled people aren’t a homogenous mobility-aid-wielding group; different people require different types of adjustments or services to access performances.
The new search feature on the fringe website helped me quickly ascertain that 53% of shows reported being wheelchair accessible. That’s more than I’d expected, but it still means there are 1,658 I wouldn’t be able to see.
More disappointing, though, is how few shows there are for people with other access requirements.
This year, there are 107 relaxed performances (3% of the total), most of which are children’s shows.
While there are 11 million Deaf and hard of hearing people in the UK, there are just 24 captioned performances at this year’s fringe (0.6% of the total) – that’s fewer than in 2013.
If you’re one of the UK’s 87,000 Deaf British Sign Language users, then the festival offers just 37 shows you can see – a mere 1% of the total.
And if you’re blind or partially sighted, you won’t need to plan a long stay, because there are only 11 audio-described shows (a shocking 0.3% of the total). And if you happen to be a child as well, you can forget calling it a festival at all. There are just three shows for you, two of which are classical music events.
Come on. Surely we can do better than this?
One big barrier to progress is the issue of responsibility. Whose job is it to make sure that shows are accessible: the Fringe Society, the venues, companies, performers, disabled people, or the law?
Think of access as an asset – if you make your work accessible, you open it up to new audiences
In a hectic, high-pressure environment where budgets are stretched, it’s easy to assume that accessibility is someone else’s responsibility.
Ultimately, we all have the power and responsibility to improve the accessibility of our cultural landscape. This isn’t just a ‘nice thing to do’; it’s absolutely essential if we want a vibrant, relevant arts sector.
Disability isn’t a niche issue. Almost one in five people in the UK identify as disabled. It’s time to think of access as an asset – if you make your work accessible, you open it up to new audiences.
Recently published figures from Attitude Is Everything support this. They show that a 26% increase in disabled fans attending live music events over one year has led to additional sales (including food and drink, and spend by personal assistants) of an estimated £7.5 million.
Although progress feels painfully slow, there have been some major developments since my first fringe two years ago: a community engagement and access manager has been appointed, and the brilliant Euan’s Guide has been delivering equalities training to many venues. For the first time this year, the venue details section in the brochure includes information about whether staff have had such training – a quick count revealed that more than half the venues have trained their teams in inclusive practice.
Of the big four – Assembly, Gilded Balloon, Pleasance and Underbelly – only Underbelly seems not to have invested in training. This is interesting, because Underbelly is also the least accessible, with just 48% of its venues being open to wheelchair users. By contrast, 95% of shows at the Pleasance are accessible.
I want to see a fringe where disabled people are in audiences, on stages, and working behind the scenes. As the agenda-setting trade fair of our sector, Edinburgh matters because it has the potential to create deep-rooted change across the UK and beyond. This is the way for inclusivity to become embedded within our creative, cultural and social practices.
It’s time to move accessibility up the to-do list so we can take action together.
