British actress and playwright Joanna Pickering, currently working in New York City, is regarded as distinct voice in contemporary theater, after her plays have made an impact in sold out black-box theater in Paris, London and New York. Her path into the arts was anything but conventional: raised in North England, she went onto study pure mathematics in Scotland. After successfully completing her degree, she took a job selling super yachts in the South of France, soon financed herself in acting school and then became nomadic in her travels. It is therefore no surprise that her work as a playwright is described as rich, multilayered, with an absurdist style. In any case, her intense psychological dramas clearly speak with a sharp female agenda
Her most recent projects include a thriller solo show, Crash Landing, set to premiere this winter with a Broadway Tony-nominated team, in which she performs. It is currently previewing to audiences at The Tank in New York City. Then, there is her play It’s Only Rock ’n’ Roll Baby hitting audiences, as well as a one-act Until Death Do Us Part.
Significant attention followed her solo show Lara’s Journey, which live-streamed from a soldout Theater 555 in New York, to more than one million viewers in support of refugees. The play was presented by Ukrainian activists with contributions also from icons including Gloria Gaynor and Kathy Sledge. The play was reviewed at Off-Avignon as “a masterful work that surpasses the other plays.” However, it was her debut one woman show and performance in Don’t Harm the Animals (2023) brought her an award-winning team and her 90-minute commission.
Joanna burst onto the scene with her debut Beach Break (2019) written for Primitive Grace Theater (David Zayas, Paul Calderon), in response to their search for Federico García Lorca’s concept of “duende”: art possessing the truest form of emotion beyond technique. The play was picked, won awards on the indie-circuit, attracted then VP of talent acquisition of HBO, and broadcast as radio play sponsored by HBO. This launched her playwright career and set the tone for what has become a defining hallmark in Pickering’s work — raw emotional force.
A published trilogy: Truth, Lies and Deception followed, with Cat and Mouse, a fast-paced and controversial one-act, keeping audiences debating long after the curtain falls; and Sylvie and Sly, about ageism in Hollywood. Bad Victims, regarded for breaking down rape myths, sold out two runs at The Courtyard Theatre in London, with audiences citing her style as “Kane meets Coward, with a blast of Tarantino.” In 2022, The Endgame, taking place over a game of chess, was said to be “so intense you can hear a pin drop,” prompting a 2025 revival by New Perspective Theater as they stated audiences were still talking about it three years later. Sylvie and Sly is in production for screen, with seven-time Emmy Award-winning director Gary Donatelli (One Life to Live) and starring Emmy-nominated TV star Ilene Kristen (Ryan’s Hope,One Life to Live) and TV presenter Nelson Aspen. While veteran producer Eric Krebs is careful not to sideline the importance of Joanna’s own performance in telling her own stories, he describes her as vitally energetic on stage. Joanna won Best Actress six times as film actress on the indie-circuit.
Yet, rather than picking commercial scripts, she has filmed on cult or socially driven projects. Pelleas, co-starring with A lister Alice Eve screened at The Whitney Museum in The Incomplete History of Protest exhibition. Then, there are the cult films in the rock industry, leading in experimental films (Kubricks by Alan Mcgee) or small roles in Creation Stories by Irvine Welsh, Nick Moran, and Danny Boyle, emanating from the rise of bands such as Oasis (Gallagher fame) and a Britpop era that links back to her northern roots. While excited for the momentum around her new one-woman show, we wanted to draw on Joanna’s expertise in the arts, as an experienced speaker at United Nations and on panels for female agenda, regards the impact of current societal issues on creative communities, especially in the USA.
Thank you for taking this moment to speak with us in between rehearsals for your onewoman show in New York—we welcome you to the magazine and are excited to have you as an ambassador. Would you like to tell us about how you align with our mission?
A magazine whose mission is to redefine and discuss success for artists is important. That interests me. I’m a passionately independent artist who has forged my own path by avoiding the mainstream in order to write freely about what I want to write. When you’ve written five plays about gender inequality, the financiers—especially the men—aren’t exactly lining up to fund them. Instead of waiting, I co-produced and staged my plays myself. Everything changed as soon as my plays were performed, because audiences responded to psychological dramas that revolve around emotional truth—even if the message was harsh. Even if, at first, I was only selling out black-box theaters in New York, London, and Paris with my plays, people started to take notice. Male and female producers and film distributors suddenly wanted a piece of the pie.
What becomes clear from this journey is that you definitely don’t do this for the money. That’s a good thing, because if you want to tell your story without it being distorted, you have to redefine how you measure success. It’s not about the check, especially not in the theater. It’s about how your story touches real audience members. For me, success means that my audience comes up to me in tears to thank me for telling their story, a story they never dared to tell themselves. Or that audience members reconsider issues and change their perspectives. That, for me, is the definition of a successful playwright—and probably of any artist: to provoke people, make them think, and challenge the status quo.
Is that how you would describe your understanding of the role of art, and of the responsibility borne by individuals working in the creative sector, in shaping and influencing societal development?
Yes. I truly believe art has the power to resonate with people and change issues in our world. If you remove that mission, you work in sales or marketing or advertising. A masterpiece in my opinion is something that cuts out all that noise. Irrespective of it making money, the message hits home to those who need it. It unites and uplifts the audience, whether it’s to say they’re not alone, or to give a voice to those who have been silenced, or to hold a mirror to behavior we want to change, or simply to make them feel good. If you can do it in a way that isn’t preaching but the audience go home and talk about the work afterwards, to discover a message, that’s delivery and impact. That is the role of art. It provokes conversation on topics we usually hide from, to instigate change.
And the responsibility?
Regards the responsibility of it? I think that the responsibility is to support the underdog, the ones who need a voice on a bigger platform, but again we have to be careful. I am against any form of censorship, so we have to be open minded to all content, even if you disagree with its point of view. The expression “I may not agree with what you’re saying but I defend your right to say it”—we have lost that in current times. We have an equal responsibility to fight to get that back; that it’s okay not to agree and to have an open debate. I believe art must retain the right to have an element of danger and be controversial. The biggest responsibility is also for those financing, to dare to put narratives to stages that are controversial stories. I believe anything that can happen in real life, can happen on stage. I am not afraid to go to the heart of the matter and hit you in the gut with it. I am not afraid to do this even when someone tells me you can’t put that stage. Well, guess what? I just did.
That’s in reference to your play The Endgame?
Yes. The Endgame, is a play about acquaintance rape. It kept a board of theater directors out for days for being too risky. Why? Because a woman plays chess with the guy who raped her. If you think that is risky, you have no concept of how 97% of all rape works. The producers went there in the end, and I can promise, after seeing the play, you think twice before saying to a victim ‘it can’t be true: why didn’t you go to the police?” I’ve led you through a twist-bending drama and now your own views are up in the air.
The mission there is simple; it’s to help people understand a narrative from a better female-led viewpoint. But, rather than politics, I want to do it through a dramatic entertaining experience, not shoving socio-politics down anyone’s throat. When did that solve anything? I also believe we have a responsibility to get off social media and screaming into an echo chamber. Create the artwork and drop it on your audience — that’s my job — responsibly done.
What advice do you have for brand new artists starting out navigating this in current climates?
Unless it’s a rebellion and you’re ready to fight, don’t go into the arts. The need to create and the fight to survive has to be greater than all the rejections and mainstream disparity that’s going to beat you down. You do art because there is nowhere else you fit in. If you fit in somewhere else and can make money in a way you enjoy, you’d be better off there. Otherwise, you have this fire to endure hardship until it becomes your creative gold. Then, it becomes, absurdly fun. You, also, need to share your personal work to other people, which is torturous. Success can’t be defined as earning money, not at first, as that comes and goes due to a fucked-up system that devalues artists while demanding their art—so it has to be defined as continuously completing that journey of endurance in order to regularly share your work with an audience.
The work is the super power—the story—not any one person. The work is more powerful than anyone around it, including the author. All it takes is the message of the story to resonate with an established figure, who will perform or direct or finance or produce the work, and a journey emerges, bridging the disparity and inequality gap of the industry.
In Germany, as in many other European countries, the creative industries face a persistent structural challenge: they rarely present themselves as a unified sector. Despite their considerable economic relevance, creative professionals are often perceived merely as isolated individual actors, a perception that results in significant systemic disadvantages. From your perspective, how does this situation compare to the United States, and in which direction do you see the American creative industries evolving? Is there, for instance, any meaningful form of solidarity between major, financially successful cultural figures and lesser-known or emerging artists — and if so, how does this solidarity manifest?
USA is a whole other ball game where you are expected to play the game. There is a lot of hypocrisy even in the liberal sector as it is diluted with enormous wealth at the top. It takes that enormous wealth to make it in USA—not first and foremost talent. I remember being told it takes only a million dollars for a campaign to become famous in your field. That system creates a closed circle that’s almost impossible to penetrate unless you’re born into it, or have someone who can open that door, or bankroll it. Once a system depends on gate-keepers, you’ve created a model that thrives on power, status, and easily breeds corruption and exploitation. This means any individual artist who is emerging, without that elite inroad, the system itself makes them instantly exposed and vulnerable. If you do manage to break in, and show a story to those powers that be, money governs content. The execs want the story that made the last box-office hit, not the one that needs someone to take a fresh risk on it. That means minority-led narrative is less financed–the female lens is less known.
But here’s the positive in terms of evolving—most stories that break the box office, even at that level of commercial market, were not forecasted. They were uniquely controversial and came out of nowhere, with one person taking a risk on a unique narrative. And audiences love diverse stories. The money people don’t always know what they want or what’s going to be a hit, other than clinging to past trends. What hits, every time is fresh, personal, emotional truth in
storytelling. Only the storyteller or creative owns that power.
And for finding solidarity?
As for solidarity? The quickest way to make something happen is to tell an artist it’s impossible. As soon as I hear the words impossible, I am up on my feet, rallying the troops. You find a team of like-minded warriors. You place your own team players around you, who believe and say yes — we will do this. For my work, it’s thanks to a lot of women’s organizations when I started up.
If an actor comes to me and says I can’t get work as I have a Northern accent; I’m from the North of England — I’m going to understand it’s a hundred times harder. I will fight harder for you to have a role in my work. It happened with talented Alfoie Scott from the North East. Casting was going another direction, and yet, I am a Northern born storyteller, the play is inspired by that time in my life; how can she not be right for this role? We brought her back in at my request for a call back, and she ended playing the role of Layla in my first play, while on a scholarship program to train with The National Youth Theatre.
The main key is to trust and be proud of your identity and your work. It becomes uniquely your tools to success. The mission of your work and themes lead you to the people who will finance your themes, and those people come to you; you chase no-one. You can have great collaborations between superstar mainstream figures and emerging artists, because the work is the super power—the story—not any one person. The work is more powerful than anyone around it, including the author. All it takes is the message of the story to resonate with an established figure, who will perform or direct or finance or produce the work, and a journey emerges, bridging the disparity and inequality gap of the industry. As for those who aren’t your people, no matter what they promise, it’s going to be challenging. Burning bridges isn’t a bad thing if you’re being underestimated.
Specifically, the political climate in the United States is currently marked by pronounced polarization. The right-wing seat of power that has emerged exerts substantial influence within the Republican Party and is frequently accused of moving toward authoritarian tendencies. Conversely, Republicans often accuse Democrats of embracing dangerous forms of socialism or even communism. How does this polarized environment affect the broader creative landscape in the United States?
There’s a lot of distracting noise, mainly online. It’s draining to create in. Social media can be overwhelming and polarizing, making it challenging to navigate public discourse, no matter where you are on the political spectrum. The use of AI memes does not help. I wish everyone would get off social media for politics and direct their energy more vitally. We are locked in the arms of a crazy society, where blame culture, cancel culture, and denial culture rules on both sides, and the weapon is social media. It’s all becoming propaganda and people are puppets to it without realizing. While it feels warranted to express outrage online, it’s polarizing the problem more and more. That’s what algorithms do. Add to this, no one can read more than the first line of anything anymore. There’s no critical thinking anywhere, which is the pinnacle of art, philosophy and a democratic civilized country. That will always hurt creative output — as it’s a societal dumbing down and a censorship of free thought.
Aside that, there are also real and huge problems for the broader creative landscape. What is happening in USA, is arts grants and funding are being cut, which directly affects artists and the stories that can be told. Diversity programs are scrapped, which is great for everyone sick of woke and censorship, unless, of course, you’re a black female losing your job. But again, it comes down to the same rebellion of creatives. We never had it easy, we thrive in adversity and we prosper against the odds all the time. We will now. Artists have to stay calm, focused, and do what we always do—make art that speaks for those in need.
At the same time, many immigrants living in the United States — the very people who contribute to the country’s cultural and economic dynamism — express fear of what’s happening with law enforcement. Entire industries are anxious because they depend heavily on international labour. As a British actress and playwright working in the United States, how do you perceive this situation?
The situation is tense. You’re asking this to an immigrant in the USA. Let’s just say I am sensibly cautious to give interviews. That’s all you need to know about the reality. However, I am not afraid to say, I feel strongly about the lives, safety, justice for all citizens, including immigrants, based on recent events. Diversity has always been the framework of our greatest and most vibrant cities, and filling them with terror and resistance is now proving not to be the key to safety. At the end of that day, I love America. I am very proud to work there, but as everywhere in the world the current political landscape is stressful. I don’t want to have to talk politics. I want to do my job and make art that resonates with the cultural values I embrace.
Finally, may I just ask—is there a largely shared stance within the creative community regarding immigration, and if so, how is this position articulated in practice?
Last night, I watched a great play called Chinese Republicans produced by Roundabout Theater written by Alex Lin. As the title suggests, it’s a clever play looking at identity in the USA, through the lens of Chinese republicans. My friend Jodi Long performs alongside a great cast. My own play Lara’s Journey is about a refugee’s journey, performed by Yeva Sevriukova, who legally came to the USA when Ukraine was invaded by Russia in 2022. As artists, our stance is not about articulating politics. It’s about expressing humanity. That’s what’s missing worldwide, but not in our artistic work and not in our creative communities. Artists are always the first to resist. We bring matters needing attention to global platforms and that’s what we are all doing — bravely telling our stories. Helping other emerging artists tell their stories. Stories of humanity. Stories that evoke empathy and compassion. It may be a tough landscape, but in terms of our artistic calling, we are more in demand than ever before.
Thank you for talking and good luck with your new show. Any last comments?
If you’re in New York City — March 12th at The Tank Theater for a special preview of my new show Crashlanding—nothing is as it seems in this one. I won’t say anymore. Thank you for having me and to your readers.
Remember folks — more love, less hate, everywhere.
