“He (August) was writing in the 1980s about a family in the 1950s, and we’re still engaging with something that exists and should still work for us in the 2020s. He was ahead of his time. DANIEL BAILEY
Bailey has built a reputation as a director committed to telling stories that reflect the experiences of Black and marginalised communities. From Red Pitch and August in England to Booty Candy, his work has explored identity, community, sport, culture and the experiences that shape people’s lives.
Now, Bailey turns his attention to August Wilson’s Fences, his first production of an American play. In this interview with ALT A Review, he discusses discovering Wilson at college, his journey into directing, developing audiences, working with Lenny Henry, and what drew him to Fences.
Bailey also reveals how music and the idea of generational cycles have influenced his production, while discussing his approach to making audiences feel welcome in the theatre and his advice for emerging directors.
ALT: What made you decide to get into directing and writing?
DB: I didn’t quite know what to do when I was younger. I was good at drama, alright at science and good at sports, so I had a couple of avenues. My teacher, Mr Sill was really inspiring, as was another teacher, Miss Rosenblatt. They pushed me towards the performing arts route.
I just fell in love with it. It was a way for me to express myself in a way that I didn’t know how to. I wasn’t the greatest academically, so theatre felt like a route for me to express and articulate myself.
I started seeing the world through theatre and learning a lot about the world through theatre. It felt like the vehicle that was going to help me understand the world. We all need something that helps us understand the world. For some people it’s religion, for some it’s sport or reading books. For me, it was theatre.
I pursued that in college through performing arts. I had loads of good teachers, particularly Serena Wilson and Adam Fie, who kept pushing me. I did a bit of everything, acting, directing and writing.
I didn’t really see many young directors who looked like me making work. I always thought you had to go down the acting route, so I did some acting and then started seeing directors like Kwame Kwei-Armah, Paulette Randall and Michael Buffong. I thought, they’ve been doing it since they were young, so maybe I can too.
I had a few acting friends and we formed a group, started making things and sharing them with the public. That was really the route.
ALT: Fast forward to your first professional piece and seeing it performed on stage. What was that moment like?
DB: It was incredible. I blur the lines a little about what was the first professional piece because it was something we’d shared with the public, something I’d written and developed with a bunch of my friends.
It felt like a professional debut because we got loads of people to come. Some people from the Young Vic came to see it, as did people from the National. Even though I was just starting out and didn’t quite know what I was doing, we were able to use the ticket sales to pay the creatives, so that felt like my first gig.
It was nerve-wracking trying to share something with people. I’d done music videos before, but I’d never really done theatre for the public.
I was learning so much through the process that I never really had time to embrace what the feeling was. I was just pushing through.
Going from making that work to a professional gig in a more recognised theatre felt like something. It felt like I was introducing myself, but also introducing the community of people who came up with me to the theatre, because a lot of those people came to see the work.
It went from something that felt quite nerve-wracking to something that felt almost like legacy building.
ALT: Talk about your time as Associate Director, first at Theatre Royal Stratford East and then at the Bush Theatre. What did you learn from that experience?
DB: I became an Associate at Theatre Royal Stratford East first, and that was part of Kerry’s way of ushering a new generation into the theatre.
There were a lot of times when he asked me what I wanted to do. He was the first to make me an Associate, before Birmingham Rep, which later made me an Associate too.
It meant a lot of responsibility and a lot of time working with new and developing artists, building a community of people coming through. I wanted to take a lot of that thinking and learning from Birmingham to the Bush Theatre, which is home for me. I’m a North West London, West London boy, so it felt like coming back home.
Lynn had already been thinking about developing young talent and bringing that through, and I’d been doing that too. Going to the Bush allowed us to fuse our ideas together and create something that felt like we were moving the culture forward, bringing people in and starting new relationships with buildings.
It felt phenomenal to be around that at the time. Our programming did pretty well, and it feels like it’s paying dividends now. We’re seeing all these brilliant artists out doing their thing, and it feels like we were at the helm of that to some extent.
ALT: Looking at some of your work, from Red Pitch and August in England to Booty Candy, what are the stories you like to tell?
DB: Someone at the Bush once said, “If it’s got something to do with magic realism and Black people, Dan’s going to be on it. Anything to do with sport, Dan’s on it.” I can see there’s a bit of a pattern.
For me, it was always about how we share the various experiences of Black people. I wanted to share the experiences of Black and brown people and marginalised communities with audiences that were predominantly white or predominantly British.
I wanted to say, here’s another alternative to who we are and what we are. If you look at all my work, you can see a through line, from the work I did in Birmingham to the work I’ve done here in the UK and abroad.
I wanted to share where we came from and the experiences we had, and particularly to share Black British stories. I’ve seen a lot of American stories, and this is the first time I’m doing an American piece with Fences, but I was very conscious about that.
I’ve had offers to do American work before, but I was so keen to share our experiences first. I’ve seen a lot of my contemporaries and peers doing American work, so I was thinking, where do I fit into this ecology?
It was, what is our Fences? What is our The Mountaintop? What’s our Sweat? What’s our version of an Arthur Miller? That’s the through line I can see through my work, although I think that’s changing a little now.
ALT: What was it like directing Lenny Henry in August in England?
DB: Lenny’s great. I grew up watching Lenny on TV, and I also saw him in Fences in 2013. Lynn and Lenny had a relationship from her time at the Donmar, and I had a relationship with Lenny from my time in Birmingham.
Lenny actually put me onto a TV job back in the day. August in England was such a powerful story about Windrush. There were many stories happening at the time, but his felt very specific to what was happening for us in the UK. His being a West Midlands story felt like me paying homage to my parents and those who came before me in our community.
It was extraordinary working with Lenny. He’s so calm and so cool. He wrote it and acted in it, and I thought him taking off each of those hats would be a challenge, but he did it with such ease.
The beautiful thing about Lenny is that he grew, and he’s still growing and learning. It was so easy to get into a room with someone of that stature and status who could be perceived to have an ego, but that ego wasn’t there. He was just about learning.
He was asking, where do I learn? What do I need to do? How do I do it? How do we best serve this piece and this story, which is a humongous story for all of us?
ALT: As a director who is very specific about the stories you put on stage, how important is it for you to see a more diverse audience?
DB: From when I was at Theatre Royal Stratford East, to Birmingham and the Bush, I always felt like I was changing the demographic, or at least serving a certain demographic when it came to audiences.
I was always interested in people coming in and feeling welcome in a theatre. I would say I’m definitely audience-focused.
I’m about the story, of course, but I’m also about how an audience experiences those stories. For those coming in for the first time, in order to feel welcome, you need to have that hand or that olive branch.
My productions usually have a bit of an olive branch. It will always be there, whether it’s a party with the characters where they notice the audience and bring them in, or whether it’s from the very beginning. There’s always an awareness that we are in a theatre, that we are making something with you and that we want you to be part of it.
If you don’t want to be part of that, that’s fine. But you being in the theatre alone is enough for us to welcome you and feel like you’re there with us.
For me, it’s about welcoming people and the way we tell stories. From our culture, we acknowledge everybody in the room, from the youngest to the oldest. Everybody is acknowledged, and there’s always a part of a story that seems like it’s speaking directly to you. I’m always interested in finding that within a production and sharing it with an audience.
That idea has stayed with me from when I started. How do we share our stories with audiences? And if you’re not from that culture, how do we still give you a helping hand to understand it and come with us on the journey?
The more I work here and abroad, that’s always going to be the case. How do I offer that hand to those who haven’t perhaps seen a production I’ve made? And even if you have, how do I offer it in a different way?
ALT: When did you discover August Wilson, and how did you land this project?
DB: I discovered August Wilson in college. I had a brilliant teacher called Sabrina Wilson at Hammersmith College, and she introduced us to a number of Black contemporaries who were writing work. The majority were American, and August Wilson was one of them.
I think the first August Wilson play I read or purchased was Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom. Then Fences came, and I purchased Joe Turner’s Come and Gone.
When I got into Birmingham Rep as a resident assistant director, Dominic Cook sent me Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom, but I’d already got it. That was my first introduction to August Wilson.
Then Fences came along. I saw the 2013 version after reading it, the one with Lenny in it and Tamir Moody and Cody, along with many of my friends. I loved it. It was an incredible production.
I then became more interested in the Pittsburgh Cycle and reading more of his work. What really interested me was the man behind the work and why he wanted to tell those stories.
I thought it was in alignment with the reason why I tell stories, looking at the underbelly and saying, these people shouldn’t be demonised. These are people who are actually phenomenal and, given the chance, space, energy and resources, will make incredible people or, at the very least, make incredible drama.
With Fences in particular, we spoke about it maybe two or three years ago. I spoke to Constanza with the hope of putting it on. A year or so passed because we couldn’t quite get an alignment with the producers, production dates and venue.
Then I spoke to Constanza again and said, look, Headlong would love to do it. I would love to do it. I have a different idea about what I’d want to do with this production. With Constanza’s blessing, she said, yeah, go ahead. I think the estate and Constanza were quite happy with the production we wanted to put forward.
ALT: Fences has been made into a film and staged several times. What can we expect from Daniel Bailey’s version?
DB: What we started creating in the room, and what we started thinking about very early in the process, was the amount of music that exists in this play. The music isn’t really highlighted as such. It can feel like a nice touch, but it became apparent that everybody had a song and there was a cycle of this song that goes through the generations, from Troy’s dad to Troy, to his two sons and then to his daughter, Raynell.
I thought there was something really interesting in how we talk about cycles and developmental trauma, and the trauma that people pass through and sometimes pass on unwillingly.
Music does that so well. We can put on a track from the 1920s and hear the pain, love or joy that exists in that music. We take that on and our brains and bodies feel it. It moves through us.
With Khalil Madovi we combed through it and said, here’s a song, here’s a song. How do we elaborate on that?
One of the major stories within the piece is that Troy’s eldest son, Lyons, is a musician. That gives us the opportunity to open the story up to more music.
It isn’t a musical. It’s still a play that will have parts and pieces of music in it. It’s about highlighting that thread of music and weaving it into the idea of cycles and generational trauma, and how we pass things down, both good and bad.
You’ll hear some music of the time and sometimes something that feels more contemporary. I think that’s how we speak to 2026.
ALT: Are you sticking to the original text verbatim?
DB: There’s a power in honouring the text, in the same way that we have other contemporaries like Sarah Kane, Arthur Miller or Peter Brook. There’s something about honouring the time in which a piece is set.
I think it allows us to measure where we are now and how far, or how little, distance we’ve travelled.
For me, it’s about honouring the text and what exists within it. Some of it is going to feel offensive to some people, while some of it will feel super relatable and relevant.
He was writing in the 1980s about a family in the 1950s, and we’re still engaging with something that exists and should still work for us in the 2020s. He was ahead of his time.
ALT: What do Ray and Madeline bring to the roles and to the production?
DB: I’ve admired Ray for a long time. I grew up in the same area as Ray and know some of his family, so I’ve always been aware of him. I’ve seen him in a number of things, one of those being Julius Caesar.
I saw him and was in awe of this guy who felt bigger and larger than life. I think that’s how they describe Troy.
I’d also seen him in another one of Tello’s productions where he was singing and dancing. I thought, okay, he’s got the musical aspect to him, which is really important for this play.
There are similarities between this character, Troy, and who Ray is and the presence that he has. For me, Ray was a nailed-on choice. Every day I spend with him, I can see the similarities more and more, although he’s a more contemporary version.
With Madeline, I saw her in a number of things, including a Shakespeare piece and a recent production of The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind. Lena spoke about the magic of Mads and how she brings such a presence to her role.
It felt like an instant connection. She felt like she was of that time quite naturally, but there was also a contemporary quality that I was looking for. She feels like she can speak to women and young men of this time, older men and audiences who can say, okay, I understand Rose’s position.
Although Rose doesn’t have massive long monologues like Troy, there is still a presence and power that she exudes. I felt like Mads was the right person to carry the role of Rose.
ALT: For anyone who wants to get into directing, particularly when there aren’t a lot of people like us doing this, what two pieces of advice would you give?
DB: I think Fences taught me a lot about resilience and about how these characters have endured so much, and there is still an enduring love.
For directors coming into this space, you need to be resilient. You need to be thick-skinned because the rejections are plentiful. You’re also constantly managing people, so you’ve got to not take it personally all the time.
Resilience is really important to take you through when things aren’t going right, because sometimes things won’t always go right. You’ve got to be resilient and confident in your ideas, knowing that you’re going to take people through, including yourself.
The second thing that’s really important is seeing a range of things. Go and see different art forms that will inspire your version, your aesthetic, your way of making work and your vision.
That’s important so we don’t get stale. I’m always learning and trying to figure something new out. I’m always trying to load up my repertoire with different things.
ALT: In one sentence, can you sum up the theme of Fences for those who don’t know the story?
DB: The theme of Fences for me will always be enduring love.
ALT: What’s your go-to meal after a long day at the theatre?
DB: After theatre, it would usually be late. Unless it’s a matinee, I’d probably go for curry goat, rice, a bit of plantain and some coleslaw.
ALT: Where do you call home?
DB: That’s a very good question. Right now, it’s where my family is, but I think I have multiple homes.
Jamaica and Ghana are the places I’d probably call home.
ALT: Daniel Bailey, thank you so much for talking to ALT A Review.
DB: Thank you so much.
FENCES RUNS 06 – 31 Oct 2026
A Lyric Hammersmith Theatre, Headlong, Leeds Playhouse and HOME Mcr production BOOK
