CITY VIEW: Taking a new path

David Hudson is the executive director of the Hamilton Arts Council and he shares with HAMILTON CITY Magazine his inspiring journey to recovery after years of addiction.

DAVID HUDSON has been performing, creating and appreciating contemporary dance for over 20 years. He is the executive director of the Hamilton Arts Council and artistic director of the David Hudson Dance Company. Originally from the U.K., Hudson’s formal dance training was conducted at The Laban Centre in London. Hudson has had a diverse career as a performer, choreographer, drag artist and dance educator. A permanent resident of Canada since 2018, he is a volunteer and advocate for people recovering from mental health and addiction challenges, and a proud member of the LGBTQ+ community. He lives in lower Hamilton with his husband and their two dogs. They are looking to buy their first house in the city.

Can you describe the mandate and role of the Hamilton Arts Council?

The mandate is connecting artists, creating opportunity, and inspiring change. The Hamilton Arts Council is 55 years old. It is the third-longest serving arts council in the province, preceded only by the Ontario Arts Council and the Quinte Arts Council. We exist to sustain and develop professional opportunities in the arts. And so that's serving both individual artists and organizations that work in the arts in the greater Hamilton area. The second piece is really about connecting the residents and citizens of Hamilton to opportunities to enjoy and appreciate and get involved in the arts. 

What has been your journey to Hamilton?

So my mother emigrated here with my stepfather in the early 2000s. And from that point, I would go backwards and forwards between England where I was born and Canada. But I was never allowed to stay. So I would only stay six months, and then I'd have to leave. I just lived in this kind of suspended animation. And so very early on, I got a job in Hamilton, under the table, working at the M bar, which was a gay bar on James Street, South. I definitely had a drinking problem at that point. Then I crash landed in Hamilton in 2014. I didn't have a plan but I didn't intend to go back to England. I didn't get any status in Canada until 2018. 

I was living this very – nomadic would make it sound glamorous – life, but it was more just this very reactive lifestyle. My relationship with Hamilton was forged in this incredible time. And I think that Hamilton felt like home very early on. 

How did you get into drag?

The M Bar had a staff drag show. It was a spring fling, and all the staff participated and got in drag. And I've been a professional dancer, so I know how to perform. And so I performed in the earlier 2000s and cost Sterling, that was my drag name, was born. For many years, I did drag professionally in Canada, and then I would also go back to there was a period of time when I would take it back to the U.K. and do it when I couldn't stay here. I won a whole bunch of competitions and I was also Miss Werx.

What was your first connection to the HAC?

In 2018 when I was granted status (in Canada), I had been sort of exploring making work as I was clean and sober. You have to learn to relive life, and especially to move your body, this now, sober body. It was a very different experience. I got a membership paid for by my mom at a gym that was in the Parkdale area. And they had this little workout room at the back. At the back of this workout room, I would just start making movement material. I would create. I’m a bit of a purist in terms of the art of choreography, so I'm creating movement vocabulary. I'm really trying to invoke a different language of movement by exploring different themes. One of the trainers at the gym had some experience in dance. So we started connecting, and they started to help me to form some work into an actual performance piece. And then a guy that I was sponsoring at the time in recovery, he was also out of work and he had never danced professionally, but he had a very real sense of his body and physicality. So we made this duet, this contemporary dance duet, and it explored some themes to do with recovery. I wanted to present that work and a friend of a friend said I should connect with the arts council. And I sent them an email, and they got back to me and asked if I would want to present as part of Hamilton Arts Week, and I was thrilled, absolutely thrilled, to be presenting. I showed the work at the Hamilton Art Gallery, and there's a video of that performance that I did with Richard, and there's a whole slew of people gathered around the outside, just watching and observing. And it's funny to watch that video back now, because there's so many people that were in that event that I now know as friends and colleagues through the cultural sector in Hamilton. But at the time, I had no idea, and it cements to me, the capacity for activities, festivals, presentation opportunities like Hamilton Arts Week, just to help people get connected.

How do you reflect on where you are now?

I still can't quite believe that my life has taken this sort of turn, and I have all these things that I thought were not for me, all these things that I just assumed a man like me would never have. 

I'm realizing today that my life just felt so imaginary for such a long time. You have this idea of how you think your life should be and then I just lived. I didn't realize how long I was just living in this sort of morbid fear that that was never going to be the case. And so for these things to be coming true, these things to be happening in my life today, feels quite miraculous. You know, my job, my relationship, my living circumstances, friendships. It’s pretty cool.

What was it like to take on the executive director role in January 2024?

It was an extremely steep learning curve even though I had been in the role of artistic director. And I think what made it survivable was that we (along with program director Megan Divecha) had the humility to ask questions, and we didn't presume that we knew anything. We just knew that there was this weight of this organization, and you realize very quickly that there are many people across the city of Hamilton that in some way, have had a relationship to the Hamilton Arts Council. 

What has been your top priority?

I think the main thing is a consolidation of vision. That has been a real challenge to really consider the brand of Hamilton Arts Council and to begin to bring that back to the forefront. I think when I transitioned from artistic director to executive director, I almost realized that the work I had done in the programs was almost too successful in a way where each of these programs had these very strong identities, and the fact that it was all you had lost this sense that these programs were being delivered under a vision of a single organization, and so there's been kind of this process to shift back, and that's still ongoing. 

What's the most challenging part of your job? 

The most challenging part of my job is the constant fear that it's not enough. I know what no sounds and feels like when you apply for funding for a program. I know what it's like when you tag a large or credible organization in something on social media and they reshare it, and how exciting that acceleration is. And I know from personal experience, what it's like when that doesn't happen and so, I think the acute awareness that I have of how limited resources are or the shortfalls or missteps… the impact of that worries me. It's this sense of what was being presented to us to work with, the people that we engage with, the inspiration and the stories that come forward, the time and the energy and the insight and the love and all the things that go into that. You know, I want so much to handle and explore it and give it all of its deference and due. And I'm not able to do that we, as an organization, we don't have the capacity. And that's what, you know. That's for all sorts of reasons, the challenge. So the hardest part of my job is living with that, 

What's the most rewarding or fulfilling part of your job?

When you see artists doing what they do brilliantly. The best part of my job is talking to artists. I love it. I love learning about them. I love creating space to chat about their process and understanding what's important to them and just hearing them light up when they talk about their work. I know what that feels like. And so getting to spend time with artists is hugely uplifting.

How would you describe Hamilton as a place to live and work and create for an artist?

From my perspective, Hamilton is really, really fast paced and in the cultural sector, there is so much happening. There's so much happening to a point where it's quite overwhelming. I think in some ways, it's a very exciting scene, but I think it's hard to navigate. Since the pandemic, the way that people want to consume, the arts – music, film, theatre, dance –  I think, has really shifted. The sector is quite fragmented, diverse and disconnected. The arts scene in Hamilton is dense. It's layers of the layers of history, and then these layers of like newcomers to Hamilton, and it's all like, and it's all just kind of plonked in together. Oh, you're the arts and cultural sector. And, yeah, no, I think it's, I think, I think it's why we end up, in some ways, why the art centre ends up siloed, is because that's the only way people can, kind of, like, comprehend it, right? 

How did you come to be a dancer? 

I definitely had this show-kid attitude and character, but that also wasn't something I ever really felt like I had control over. When I was a kid, my parents were involved a lot in community theatre, and my mom was involved in choral groups and singing, and so that was always very present. And then at some point, I went into ballet class, and after that, progressed more to like theatre school. I had this sense of discipline and how to move my body from my initial dance classes. And that first teacher at that theatre school went on to become my professional mentor. As a teenager, I did work experience with her dance company and I hung around. I learned about lighting and sound and how to run a theatre from just being this kid in these black box theatres. And every time these professional dancers sat around stretching, or whenever they would warm up and do class, professional class, I would be there doing class at the back. And they drove all over the country delivering these workshops and classes, and I would go with them to the class. And you know, it was the very best kind of education that you could get. 

I never wanted to be this incredible dancer and dance artist. I just loved it. It's where I felt the most in my body and in my skin and it was fun. Dance came easily to me. As a male in dance, doors opened for me. I got a scholarship to the Laban Centre in London, which was incredibly prestigious. My parents and family were super supportive in the practical sense, but also really supportive in there wasn't any concern about, or you should have a real career. There was an appreciation for the arts and artistry and creativity.

I left the Laban Centre right before I was due to graduate. That was part of, you know, emotional psychological collapse. It was a really intense period of time. I had established a relationship with alcohol at that point and it just came undone. And I walked away. And I moved to Lincolnshire in England, which is in the middle of nowhere, and I went to live with with a dog breeder of a particular breed of dog that I had always had this fascination with. I lived on a farm in the middle of nowhere and left things all behind. 

Tell us about your journey with addiction?

When I left university and moved to the middle of nowhere. I tried to move myself forward. I just didn't seem to be able to progress in the way that other people could. And you know, they talk in recovery about this demoralization, this disillusionment, and I understand what that means. Alcoholism is not just what's happening when the alcohol is in your hand. For me,

I could desperately see how I needed to show up in my life, in work, in relationships. I could see the kind of son and brother and friend that I wanted to be, but my actions would always say something entirely different. I had all sorts of narratives in my head as to why that was: Why was I different? Why was I crazy? Why did the party always go on a bit longer for someone like me? I kept thinking that the next thing would make it OK. If I could get the job, or if I had enough money, or if I had the right relationship. What I did know without even realizing it, is that when I would drink, I could breathe. When I would drink, and this has just become apparent to me, I feel like I could carry the weight of my personality. 

I was a bad influence. I’d be great in rehearsal, but then I want to take everyone out afterwards and get absolutely smashed. I had a colleague who ended up getting cuffed and carted away by the police because I kicked a passing police car and he stepped in to defend me. I was wild and irresponsible. Being out drinking, even from a young age, would put me in all sorts of dangerous and questionable situations. Even as a teenager, I was waking up in different towns and cities and be actually afraid of who I was with and how I would get back. But the consequences were never enough.

My family was in Canada by this point, so I was going backwards and forwards between the two countries. In Hamilton, I was introduced to drugs, too. I felt like I didn’t belong anywhere. I was in a relationship with someone, who has sadly passed away, who should have been in a recovery program. And when two people like that are in a relationship, and there's money to drink, it's the most beautiful thing in the world. But when there's not, then it's violent and it's angry, and it's fights in the street and falling out of cabs and rolling across front lawns and by that point, everything has shifted. 

You feel like you're slipping away, but you just don't know how to come back. I have a very vivid memory of one time when he had me pinned up against the wall by my throat. And I remember thinking, at least I matter enough, at least someone can see me. You're not making decisions about your life from a place of balance or wellness. I was along for the ride but I didn’t want off at that point. I carved out a big part of my identity in alcohol. 

How did recovery come about for you?

I was living as a carer for my grandmother in England, as well as being an educator and dancer. But, of course, I have zero money, so I lived with my grandmother, but she needed a lot of help. I had a deep-rooted love and affection for my grandmother but I would be at the bar, and she would need me home at her dinner time. But I would just keep staying and drinking and then it’s two or three in the morning. I've spent all the money, for a cab, and I've got, like, an hour and a half, two-hour walk back to my grandmother's. I had this desperate need to show up for my grandmother, or my job in education, for the companies that I wanted to dance with. And then just this inability to really follow through. Most mornings I would spend just weeping at the bottom of the shower. You just live in this constant state of hangover. And I still don't know that I'm an alcoholic. I just think that I'm stupid. And it looks like I don't care enough, and yet, how come I care so deeply? 

So my grandmother one night has an accident. She must have fallen in the night and hurt herself quite badly, and thankfully, she had an alarm, and she must have pushed that alarm and it and there were paramedics that came to the house, and apparently they came upstairs to try and wake me up, and they couldn't. So I actually woke up the next day to a text message from a family member saying, ‘Don't worry, grandma's in the hospital. No one blames you.’ And it was the first time I thought, maybe there's a problem. I looked up support programs. There was going to be like a 12-step meeting that night. I had no idea what that meant, but I just decided I was going to go. And it's funny because it was being held at the local mental hospital in this big Gothic building. I went and I liked it. Everyone was nice and they talked about alcoholism as a disease. And I thought, this just has to be my fault. But I kept going and it made me feel better for that hour. Each day that I went, that thing inside of me that was just in agony, kind of quieted. 

But then one night at the bar I was drinking again and  I was right back where I started. I just had this pain inside of me. I didn't know how to ask for help. So in 2014, I had this bright idea that if I could just come to Canada, if I was with my family, everything would be OK. I arrived in Canada, July 1, 2014 and by November, I was pulled out of an apartment on Herkimer Street by my older brother. I’d been prostituting. I sent him a message saying, ‘Can you help me?’ I was frightened, and I hadn't been frightened like that for a long time.

He dropped me off at my mom's place, and I remember, she sat up in bed and she said, ‘What's wrong, Davey?’ And I said just enough. The next day, there was this family meeting, which was so bizarre, because all my brothers are there, and their partners. They asked me what I needed. And I was crying. I was crying a lot, and they thought I was crying because I was sorry, but I was crying because I didn't know what not drinking looked like. I was so frightened and I couldn't imagine it. My sobriety day is November the 27th, 2014. I went to a meeting that night.

People in recovery told me to go help other people. So I would ride my bike to Gage Park and sit on a bench and different men would come, and they would sit, and I would work with them in recovery. I would go to the dollar store, buy socks and take them to the detox centre. I felt this entire shift in purpose and outlook, and my life changed. I changed. I knew, in a way that I have never known before, this is the life you can get to have if you just stay on this path. And I had dance, which helps me to make sense of the world around me. It helps me to make sense of other people. It helps to make sense of me to other people. 

What was your 10-year anniversary of sobriety last November like for you?

That was enormous. Ten years is such a privilege. It was huge but not just for me, but for the people around me as well. I mean, I still am active in my recovery. So I have this group of people in Hamilton that have seen me every week for the last 10 years, pretty much, sometimes more often than that. I don't often allow myself the time to take stock. When I look at what has happened in my life over the last 10 years, it's overwhelming, it's humbling and there have been a lot of people that didn't make it. There have been people that are very close to me that didn't make it. So I feel the weight of that. I met my husband, Teddy, when I was three years sober, so he's never seen me drink. So my story is not, oh I had this job, I had this family, I had this house, and I lost it. I just never got there. I burst into tears a couple of years ago when we bought a countertop, portable dishwasher. Like I just never thought that I would own a dishwasher. To me, it's wild. 

How does your lived experience affect your work?

The work that I do, and how I engage with people, how I think about community, is all informed by my lived experience. I'm not going to come in now and pretend like I'm this super well-educated, you know, arts administrator with this background in marketing and finance. No, I just, I really care a lot, and I give a shit, and I and I understand the power of change. I understand the dignity that you can give people to allow them to to start from wherever they're at. The message of recovery is change is possible and everyone deserves an opportunity to show themselves and present themselves. I've been gifted that opportunity in so many different iterations. There are so many times where I could have been written off as one thing or another. I’ve had the privilege of being able to discover myself and my strength.

Is there one artistic experience of your life that really stands out for you?

The Arts Council first presented the Hart dance film series in 2023. It is short dance films created by Hamilton artists, and specifically for Black, Indigenous or racialized artists. There was so much insight in them, with their exploration of movement and art and creativity. I remember the first year the program was presented, and we went to the Westdale cinema. You're seeing these original works on the big stage, each of the artists, there was a bit of a Q&A with each of the artists. I remember, with tears in my eyes, turning to the board president at the time and saying, ‘This is it. This is what we're supposed to do. This is the very core of what I want to do.

What is your ideal way to spend a lazy day in Hamilton?

I struggle to be lazy. That's my internalized anxiety. My favourite way to spend my time in Hamilton is walking with my dogs and my husband and exploring trails and just being among trees and dappled sunlight. We had our membership at the Royal Botanical Gardens, and so we'd go to the Arboretum on Old Guelph Road. And now we have our membership with Dundas Valley Conservation Area. And so we're just sort of exploring more and more of those pockets of sanctuaries to be and breathe. I bought myself an e-scooter last year and my favourite part of my day is my eight-minute e-scooter into work.

What's your favourite meal in the city?

Charred chicken poutine. I’m so grateful the restaurant’s back open.

What's Hamilton's best kept secret? 

I don't know if it's a secret but Pier 8 at 6:30 in the morning. We will go and just walk the dogs along the water there. And I think it is the best way to start the day when you're like me, and you wake up thinking about all the things you've got to do, and all the things in your work and all the ways you're potentially going to fail, I actually think a walk along that water, that waterfront is what I need. There's still lots of development to happen there, but what they've done there along the waterfront is really nice.

What does Hamilton need more of? 

I'm talking from the Arts Council perspective, we need small, independent theatre and arts presentation spaces and more resources for arts incubation. You know, well-supported studio theatres so that emerging dance companies and artists can have the experience of creating work in semi-professional spaces. That supports viability. And also, Hamilton needs more patience. It's in such a rush to become.

What does Hamilton need less of? 

Less arrogance in leadership. It needs less people trying to take up space and dominate conversation, and the landscape and social media. We've come to this place of egocentric white men. I am within that space trying to elevate other voices.