Camden People’s Theatre’s SPRINT Festival returns with a packed programme throughout March. London’s “best-established carnival of new and unusual theatre” features artists with bold ideas, artists who don’t play by the rules, and artists, in many instances, making their first professional work.
This is the eighth of a series of interviews highlighting artists and work within the Festival, as I chat with Holly Gifford about her show, Big Little Sister.
Big Little Sister is a darkly funny and emotionally sharp solo play about growing up in someone else’s shadow- when that someone is your sibling with disabilities.
The show cuts through the clichés of “inspirational” disability-adjacent sibling narratives. Through surrealist storytelling, monologue, and multimedia- including dialogue voiced by her brother’s communication aid.
Inspired by the term “glass children,” used to describe the ‘invisible’ siblings who grow up in the background of siblings with additional needs, Big Little Sister asks: what happens when the glass finally cracks?
Where: Camden People’s Theatre.
When: 12 Mar, 7.15pm.
Ticket link: https://cptheatre.co.uk/whatson/Big-Little-Sister
Your dramedy Big Little Sister is showing at Sprint – what can you tell us about it?
Big Little Sister is a darkly funny solo show about growing up with a disabled sibling. It’s part memoir, part surreal storytelling, and part attempt to make sense of a childhood that was both very ordinary and completely unusual at the same time.
The show explores the complicated experience of being the “other sibling” in a family where a lot of attention understandably goes elsewhere. It’s about love, frustration, guilt, and humour, and how those things can all exist together. Ultimately it asks who disability stories are really for, and what happens when the person telling the story doesn’t fit the usual narrative.
You use a personal story about your family. How did the idea come about?
Having a sibling with a disability in the era of solo shows means that well-meaning theatre makers have often asked if I’m going to “tell my story.” I’ve sometimes questioned the intentions behind that question, because it can feel like the interest is less about hearing a real story and more about the fact that my childhood fits into something that is currently quite commercially trendy.
There’s a very recognisable version of the disability story that people expect: something inspiring, uplifting, neat. But that isn’t always what real life feels like.
So I started thinking about what it would mean to tell the story honestly. What would a show look like if it centred the audience experience of siblings like me, or even people like my brother? What if it allowed space for the strange, funny, complicated parts of childhood that don’t fit into a tidy narrative?
Once I started exploring that, I realised just how funny so many of those memories actually were.
What should audiences expect from the show?
To laugh. To cry. Hopefully to cry laughing.
You might learn something new, or you might recognise parts of yourself in it. One of the most moving parts of making this show has been connecting with other siblings. Both through interviews while I was developing it and through audience members who come up to talk afterwards.
When I was younger, I often felt quite lost in that experience. I wish I could have seen a show like this then. Making it has made me feel considerably less alone.
How has your show evolved since you first planned it, and has your brother had any input into it?
At the beginning it was much closer to a traditional play. Over time it has become something a bit more meta and playful in the way it tells the story.
Early versions leaned more heavily into the traumatic side of things. Now the show still holds emotional moments, but they serve a purpose rather than simply revisiting difficult memories. The humour and absurdity have become much more central to how the story is told.
My brother is very much part of the process… his voice actually appears in the show… and making sure his presence feels truthful and respectful has always been important to me. He however will never see the show as he doesn’t like to sit down for that long. And is technically blind. I have asked him about the show. He seems happy. He preferred to flyer for me in Edinburgh as he likes meeting people and if he did it near a main road it meant he could count cars. He also liked Edinburgh as there are many places that sold chips.
What’s next for you and the show?
I think… a little break.
I love this show very much, but unfortunately my bank account loves it a little less. I was very lucky to receive support from the Keep It Fringe Fund last year, which made the Edinburgh run possible. This year I’d hoped to return, but the cost of the festival has become incredibly high.
So for now I’m taking a moment to rethink how this story might continue to live. I’m really interested in other fringe festivals and finding ways to reach wider audiences outsides. As for me I will be watching the other sprint shows… Then returning to France to study at Ecole Philippe Gaulier where I spent the end of last year. So who knows. Maybe a terrifying clown version of Big Little Sister will return.