Contact, Ghost Stories, and 56 CVs: Two Days at Upgrade Yourself Festival

Day One: Contact

Rain had halted the city and I arrived slightly frazzled to Upgrade Yourself Festival: Somerset House’s biannual creative careers event. The aim? Breaking down barriers and building confidence for underrepresented, aspiring creatives aged 16–30. The festival hosts a range of free workshops, career-building activities and talks that connect emerging creatives with industry experts.

I interrupted event producer Ibukun Adebambo and Kwame Dapaa mid-conversation. They were toying with last-minute doubt — a scene that is often re-enacted three minutes before an event opens. Fashion photographer Kwame Dapaa is known for luminescent images with a hint of malaise. He’s taking headshots throughout the weekend. Ibukun is a genuine sweetheart, and their ethos for the festival is to create ‘comfortable spaces’ for meaningful encounters. I was immediately transported to my teens, spent trekking from the edge of East London to events like these — programmes where I, a young person with absolutely no access to cultural institutions, was given a window into the world I now inhabit.

“You've smashed it,” I told them. “People will come.”

To override my usual introversion, I headed straight to the drop-in mentoring session. I sat down with writer-producer Hannah Patterson, who traverses theatre, TV and film. We spoke about the necessity to upskill and remain agile in the face of rejections and economic downturns. In a time of heightened need, the arts continue to face funding cuts due to decreased budgets from central government and fewer financial resources post-lockdown. Research by the Creative Industries Policy and Evidence Centre revealed that less than 10% of film and TV creatives are from working-class backgrounds (May 2024) — a statistic not helped by the cost of living crisis.

While economic shifts and structural barriers persist, I appreciated Hannah’s call for ‘holistic career moves’ that incorporate the financial realities of the industry into decision-making. This chimed in nicely with the workshop How do I create a budget? In this practical session, run by Savena Surana of the Grand Plan Fund, guests were supported with financial planning and finding funding sources — in short, practical solutions to our monetary woes.

Whilst certain spaces focussed on the individual's responsibility to create a sustainable career, others pointed to cooperative routes. RIOT SOUP, the creative collective for women of colour, have responded to institutional red tape and freelancer isolation with self-organised and communally funded exhibitions showcasing the work of their members. Their intimate roundtable discussion brought together queer Shakespearian actors and advertising girlies — which sort of blew my mind. But this type of cross-fertilisation permeates Somerset House, whose studios host diverse creative practices. During the roundtable, Elisha Mundy, a brand consultant who ran a mentoring programme at the design agency TMC, noted the importance of bringing “the next generation of creatives into the fold.”

How exactly we do this was explored in the panel discussion From me to we: Using community as a tool for change, facilitated by Mitzi Okou, founder of Where Are the Black Designers? Featuring Kodjo Glover and Heba Tabidi, both panellists generously shared their wins and struggles around community building. Heba Tabidi, founder of Space Black, spoke of leaving room for “fluidity, space and slack” as a means to remain responsive to the needs of the communities she works with.

Whilst eating my burger, I reflected on the first day through the lens of the seminal text Times Square Red, Times Square Blue by literary theorist Samuel Delany. Delany frames “contact” as a sociality distinct from networking. In my understanding, the two can coexist — although contact is emotionally resonant. It defies the hierarchies and power relations prevalent in society. The festival programme fostered the conditions for genuine encounters, evidenced (in part) by my decreasing shyness. Jokes aside, the line between experienced and inexperienced, or friend and stranger, felt permeable. Upgrade Yourself differs from other creative careers events in that it hosts live, practical and porous spaces for meaningful connection.

I left to perform at a cabaret night in Clapham, of all places. On my journey, I thought about how we need multiple spaces to be nourished — in the face of personal, professional, and economic storms.

Day Two: Catherine, 56 CVs and Ghost Stories

On the final day of the festival, I’m feeling fluid and open. Kwame is serving football realness in what might be a Chelsea FC shirt circa 2010 — neither of us can confidently say. Alongside his two fabulous assistants, Catherine Morton-Abuah and Sami Zubri, he’s created a warm vibe in what could otherwise be a daunting space. His headshots will become the poster for a future club night, promo for an upcoming tour, or the centrepiece of a new CV. It’s important that Kwame is here, because working with him would be financially inaccessible to many young creatives. But images are an essential part of connecting with future audiences, employers, and collaborators.

I asked one of the event support staff, Anna-Clare Chappell, about the CV Clinic. Like most of the stewards, Anna-Clare has a creative practice — she’s a singer-songwriter and composer. I was apprehensive about the CV Clinic because I have about 56 CVs for various jobs, all locked in different clouds. Anna-Clare, sensing my hesitation, was encouraging: “Just go, everyone’s been coming out of there with something.” Totally unprepared, I fumbled through my inbox to find a presentable CV, while conveying my dreams to Mike Radcliffe, a patient managing director from Represent.

In the end, I showed him my artist CV and told him I would love to write dark comedy-dramas. We crafted an email that I could send out to industry people, proposing a coffee and a little chat. His thinking being: “Samra, if you can get twenty minutes with someone, you’ll be fine.”

By the Main Stage, I got chatting to Milo, a filmmaker on the brink of leaving the city. At the last Upgrade Yourself, Milo walked up to a speaker from the production company Somesuch and asked for an internship. Milo started in January 2025. That’s Mike’s logic in action.

During a break, Catherine and I somehow managed to implicate artist Corbin Shaw in a series of totally incoherent chats, loosely based around Made in Chelsea’s most scandalous moments. Corbin later spoke alongside Joy Yamusangie and Hannah Hill about their fine art practices — where “taxes” were unanimously named their unexpected burden. For many artists, whether self-taught or university-educated, the business of art is something we have to teach ourselves along the way — how to file taxes, write funding bids, submit compelling applications. The festival offers opportunities, expert advice, and space to upskill.

For those without a wide network or already juggling several jobs, what’s often needed is time and guidance. In the Funding Guidance talk, Tijan Sallah attempted to demystify the process. As Relationship Manager in the London music team at Arts Council England, he spotlighted Ezra Collective and the role the Arts Council played in their journey. Tijan’s point: “We don’t just fund opera.” At times, tight financial resources can cap the imagination. But for those with an ambitious project or developmental opportunity, Arts Council England might be able to offer substantial support.

Alongside the practical guidance, the festival also holds space for ideas that are emerging within contemporary artistic practice. Ghost Stories, Folklore & Inherited Memories was a profound performance-lecture and workshop run by Nia Fekri, Chanthila Phaophanit and Parwana Haydar. As Majalis, the trio organise similar gatherings where the unknown, unutterable and divine are invited into the room. The empty chairs, Chanthila joked, were “not vacant but filled with ghosts.”

Their presentation was essayistic and generous, like Marc Cousins’ 40 Days to Learn Film. They took turns guiding us through their work in relation to the cinematic histories of Afghanistan, Thailand and Iran. The discussion was loosely facilitated, with participants contributing personal and artistic stories about what follows us — and experiences that are yet to be words. I’ve never been in a space that so beautifully intersected critical theory, storytelling and spirituality. It’s the type of space I crave and had never encountered.

There were several tender moments, particularly when Pooja Sitpura, Head of Inclusive Talent at Somerset House, shared that “every time we meet with the unknown, it is a divine experience” — a knowing she learned as a child performing Hindu rituals. It speaks to the process of making.

Pooja’s presence in the workshop spoke to the porosity of the entire festival. The producers of Upgrade Yourself had created a space where facilitators, mentors and speakers stayed long after their activity. There was a dissolution of the hierarchies that often make staff and speakers inaccessible — whisked away before a conversation can truly happen. Collectively, we arrived at the idea that stories, whilst representative, are also a means to shape our sense of known and unknown realms. I spent the entire time bursting with gratitude.

During the workshop, I was drawn to Bea Gemperle, an artist with an internal conflict about whether to return to the Philippines to train or remain in London. For the diaspora, the creative struggle can be the suspension between two planes — here and the country of origin. During one of the talks, Umutoni Thuku-Benzinge, founder of Umutoni, shared how her jewellery business employs artisans in Kenya to create handcrafted gold-plated pieces. Operating between London and Nairobi, she made it clear it was the business’s responsibility to fill the skills and resource gaps needed to continue operating sustainably in Kenya. I resonated with both Bea’s sense of conflict and Umutoni’s ability to straddle continents. With 79% of festival attendees identifying as being from an underrepresented background, I wonder how Upgrade Yourself might continue to foster international creative collaboration in future editions.

Listening to Merry Lamb Lamb’s hypnotic club sounds, I got chatting to Fabiana, a maths student on a gap year interested in dance and performance. I felt a resonance with her. I was reminded of my final year studying economics, trying to work out how exactly I would become an artist. We swapped numbers, with plans to see performances together.

To close the festival, I caught Montana Hall from Run the Check. Whilst packing up, she answered a few questions about Dream the Check, her live jobs-and-dreams board. Montana’s motivation? “To place reality and dreams side-by-side.”

That felt representative of the wider festival: dream and reality, reflection and plan, individual work and collective efforts. These spaces within the creative pursuit are always just around the corner — or the next on stage.

I leave feeling invested in the burgeoning ideas and creative struggles of the people I’ve met. I’m leaving full of ghost stories — haunted, in the best way, by my younger self, who would have loved (although shyly) to be here too.

Upgrade Yourself Festival is Somerset House’s biannual creative careers event for young people aged 16–30, designed to break down barriers and build confidence for aspiring creatives from underrepresented backgrounds. Across two vibrant days, the festival offers free talks, workshops, mentoring sessions, and performances — blending practical support with artistic reflection in a space rooted in access, authenticity, and connection.