Profile: Kathryn Bedford
Comedy, storytelling and belly dancing all have their place in the museum
Kathryn Bedford is the learning development officer for a heritage partnership formed by Ripon Museums Trust and the city’s cathedral. She is a huge fan of cultural engagement in all its forms.
What is the purpose of the partnership?
Of the 135 groups that have visited Ripon over the past two years, just three took in both the cathedral and the museums so we’re working on mutual marketing and cross-site tours that tell inter-related stories.
Who is Eustace, the subject of your children’s book?
He was an apostate monk who became a pirate in the early 13th century. When he died leading the French fleet against the English during the first barons’ war, bells rang out across this country because he was so unpopular.
There are simple stories in the book and young readers are encouraged to decide which ones are true. I left out some of the grislier ones, such as the tale of him giving his enemies pies made of tar to make their teeth stick together.
How do you use stand-up comedy in your work?
Doing my PhD, I started a discussion group that re-enacted ancient texts and then along came Bright Club, comedy evenings designed to engage young audiences with university research. If you make someone laugh, they tend to remember what you said and may go and find out more for themselves.
What’s so funny about the Middle Ages?
I had a routine about how the death of chivalry was a good thing because knights in love were incredibly irritating. Guy of Warwick, for example, supposedly fought dragons in order to win the hand of his fair maiden but once he met her, he fainted and refused to talk to anyone, like a sulky teenager.
From her point of view, he’s a passive-aggressive stalker, not a knight in shining armour. I talked about him as if he were an ex-boyfriend so audiences can think about why it might not be such an ideal romance. If I’d been alive then, I’d probably have been a nun so I could be spared all the jousting and just be left alone with my books.
Does belly dancing belong in museums?
Absolutely. Like a lot of little girls, I wanted to do ballet but I didn’t have the feet for it. Compared with western traditions, belly dancing is back to front; you don’t worry about what your arms and legs are doing, it’s all about the middle.
I brought it to Egyptian sessions at my last museum and the thrill is the same for me as comedy performances or standing in front of 30 year 3s and talking about the Victorians. It’s also a brilliant excuse to buy lots of sparkly things.
What is the purpose of the partnership?
Of the 135 groups that have visited Ripon over the past two years, just three took in both the cathedral and the museums so we’re working on mutual marketing and cross-site tours that tell inter-related stories.
Who is Eustace, the subject of your children’s book?
He was an apostate monk who became a pirate in the early 13th century. When he died leading the French fleet against the English during the first barons’ war, bells rang out across this country because he was so unpopular.
There are simple stories in the book and young readers are encouraged to decide which ones are true. I left out some of the grislier ones, such as the tale of him giving his enemies pies made of tar to make their teeth stick together.
How do you use stand-up comedy in your work?
Doing my PhD, I started a discussion group that re-enacted ancient texts and then along came Bright Club, comedy evenings designed to engage young audiences with university research. If you make someone laugh, they tend to remember what you said and may go and find out more for themselves.
What’s so funny about the Middle Ages?
I had a routine about how the death of chivalry was a good thing because knights in love were incredibly irritating. Guy of Warwick, for example, supposedly fought dragons in order to win the hand of his fair maiden but once he met her, he fainted and refused to talk to anyone, like a sulky teenager.
From her point of view, he’s a passive-aggressive stalker, not a knight in shining armour. I talked about him as if he were an ex-boyfriend so audiences can think about why it might not be such an ideal romance. If I’d been alive then, I’d probably have been a nun so I could be spared all the jousting and just be left alone with my books.
Does belly dancing belong in museums?
Absolutely. Like a lot of little girls, I wanted to do ballet but I didn’t have the feet for it. Compared with western traditions, belly dancing is back to front; you don’t worry about what your arms and legs are doing, it’s all about the middle.
I brought it to Egyptian sessions at my last museum and the thrill is the same for me as comedy performances or standing in front of 30 year 3s and talking about the Victorians. It’s also a brilliant excuse to buy lots of sparkly things.