When I cast my mind back to growing up, my childhood is littered with memories of my Dad’s creative output into the world. It was always a given that my Dad would take advantage of social occasions to whip out his guitar and serenade a crowd whether we were holidaying on a campsite or having one in the pub at home. It was also very normal to watch him perform on stage at our village plays, singing and dancing his way through Little Shop of Horrors, Charlie and the chocolate factory and Monty Python sketches. In our area, my Dad is most known for his musical talents, pub gigs and his legendary deaf karaoke performance of Natalie Imbruglia’s Torn, at the village talent show.  Our home in the Peak District is dotted with Dad’s delicate watercolour paintings of derelict barns and idyllic countryside scenery. If you’ve ever been lucky enough to experience a Saturday night in our house then you know it consists of jamming out to the sounds of Dad’s varied vinyl collection; Pink Floyd, Deep Purple, Elton John, The Sweet.

 

For my dad, being creative has always been an outlet that has accompanied the mundanity of everyday working life. Living in the city of Sheffield during the 1970s/80s, the go-to job occupancy for the working-class was a position in the steelworks. With the city being the second-largest contributor of steel after London during it’s prime, a future in the creative arts industry was not a sustainable career prospect for him despite his efforts to complete Art College. The expenses of his classes soon overcame his ability to continue and he soon joined the rest of his peers at the British Steel Corporation. Shortly afterwards my dad became victim to Thatcherism among the 20,000 that lost their jobs across the country. Since he has fulfilled jobs as a pub landlord, driving instructor, milkman as well as coming full circle back to the industrial sector where he is today, working as a shunter for the rail freight and logistics company, Freightliner. 

 

I see my Dad’s life experiences as a result of a post-war Britain at a time when the shift of manufacturing moved overseas where production was and still is cheaper, in turn shattering a nation, closing the curtains on mass industrialisation across the UK. 

 

My Dad and I recently watched Looks and Smiles (1981) a film based on Barry Hine’s novel set in Sheffield about two lads and their struggle to settle into a career after the closure of a steel mill. The story follows 17-year-old Mick as he floats through his adolescence on the dole whilst his best mate enrols to join the Army. With very few industrial and engineering apprenticeships left due to the employment cuts, the film depicts the difficulty of landing a job with a set of qualifications that you were once told would lead you to a job for life.

I could tell it was hugely nostalgic for Dad, as he had experienced the same process before landing himself a job at Tinsley Park Works in ‘78. As scenes opened up in the film to familiar hotspots in Sheffield Dad would spring to life as he reeled stories about his youth in the city. 

 

In the jobcentre scene, a poster behind the desk in bold read, ‘Why Not Move To London?’. This strategically placed suggestion adds to the irony of a young lad with no money and little ambition in the North of England trying to find work. Just move to London? It’s a phrase that is still issued today for young people all over the UK by friends, families and institutions. Aim big, move to London, get your dream job! For some, this has become less of a distant ambition and much more a reality. The capital holds opportunities for just about every sector you can think of, especially in the creative industry. It is a hub for networking, job offers but the price you have to pay is not always a privilege many people own. 

 

For people like my Dad, however, moving to London would not have been a feasible solution to his unemployment. Alternative opportunities were taken to tide him over whilst his aspirations to pursue a creative occupation were out of arms reach. Instead, unconscious means to satisfy his creative mind were met through indulging in music, playing the guitar, going to gigs, drawing and sketching in his free time. 

 

I believe that there were many people just like Dad at that time that had the same craving for expression but lacking in the opportunities to become a full-time creator. When the country was at its lowest, picking itself back up after the devastation of previous conflicts, right-sided brains were coming together embracing a means to connect and fill a creative void. It’s probably likely that it caused a generation of individuals to form a distinctive culture within British fashion, music and arts that are still recognised and referenced today.