From Newbie to Volunteer: My Art-Fueled Adventure at Middlesbrough Art Week (Part 1)

Last year, I was the new kid in town, freshly unpacked, slightly disoriented, and trying to figure out if the local chain shop sold my favorite brand of instant noodles and a head full of questions like “Where’s the nearest food court?” and “Is it always this windy?”. That’s when I first heard whispers of something magical: Middlesbrough Art Week. I wanted in. But I had no idea who to talk to, where to go, or whether showing up with a paintbrush would be considered helpful or mildly alarming.

Fast forward one year, and voilà, I wasn’t just attending the art week; I was volunteering for it and hosting Live-Action Role-Play sessions. That’s right, I went from “confused newcomer” to “official art wrangler,” helping run one of the North East’s most vibrant creative festivals.

🎨 The Volunteer Life: Glamorous? Not Quite. Rewarding? Absolutely.

As part of the volunteer squad, we were the unsung heroes behind the scenes, costumed in HiVis and lanyards. We counted heads, protected precious artworks from curious fingers, and made sure visitors had a smooth, art-filled journey. And what a crowd it was; toddlers toddling, teens TikToking, pensioners pondering, and everyone in between, hopping from site to site like it was a cultural treasure hunt.

Each volunteer was stationed at a specific location, so while I didn’t get to see every exhibit, I sneaked in mini art binges during breaks. My main stomping grounds included:

•  Weapon and Wound  

•  22 Carat Gold

•  New Graduate Artists & Open Call Awards

• And Where Now 

• Apartheid Apartments

  
  

  

🖼️Art Meets Humanity: Moments That Made Me Pause.

Now, let’s talk about the real magic: the people. Because while the art was stunning, the visitors were the living, breathing masterpieces.

• Three Generations, One Screen: One day, I noticed a family, grandparents, parents, and kids sitting together, mesmerized by a video piece on burnout and machine learning. It was a quiet moment, but it hit me hard. Art doesn’t care about age. It speaks to anyone willing to listen. Sure, interpretations vary, but the conversation? Always open, always fluid.

  
  

  

• Tiny Artist, Big Dreams: A little girl and her dad stopped in front of John’s paintings. She saw something familiar, something that echoed her own drawings. Her joy was radiant, her shyness endearing, and her dad’s pride practically glowing. It was a beautiful reminder that art isn’t just for galleries; it’s for anyone with imagination and a pencil anywhere.

  
  

  

• War, Abstraction, and Beauty: On a rainy morning, I welcomed a couple to a video exhibit about the Ukrainian warfront. I warned them about flashing images and graphic content. They stayed for half an hour, watching on loop. When I asked for their thoughts, the woman said, “It’s about war, but abstract.” Her partner added, “And the world is still beautiful.” I couldn’t have said it better myself.

  
  

  

• Gold Rush Kid: A 6-year-old boy burst into the 22 Carat Gold exhibit like it was his personal playground. He asked why the painting wasn’t finished and where the actual gold was. I had no answers, but his curiosity was pure gold. He wanted to touch everything, asked a million questions, and reminded me that wonder is ageless.

  
  

  

• Bus Seat Romance: An elderly couple asked if they could sit on the bus seats in the graduate exhibit. They were giddy, joyful, and clearly having the time of their lives. Later that day, they found me at another site, remembered our morning chat, and thanked all the volunteers. My heart? Officially full.

  
  

  

• Apartheid Apartments & Spirited Debate: At the site of Apartheid Apartments, a group of young visitors came by and shared how much they appreciated the artwork, especially the way it was presented. That sparked a lively, yet controlled debate (yes, the civilized kind) about the subject matter and the bias often inherent in politicized art. We didn’t agree on everything; far from it, but somewhere between the disagreements and philosophical detours, we found common ground. We talked about the nature of humankind, the uncomfortable necessity of war, and how art can both reflect and refract the truth. It was one of those conversations that sticks with you, like glitter after a craft session.

🛠️The Not-So-Glamorous Bits (Still Worth It)

Volunteering wasn’t all poetic moments and profound conversations. Sometimes, we had to:

• Wake up sleepy screens (some displays liked to nap).

• Gently redirect overenthusiastic kids from touching the art.

• Do basic housekeeping to keep things tidy and welcoming.

These small interventions were the glue that held the show together. Not glamorous, but absolutely essential!

🍩 The Grand Finale: Snacks, Laughs, and Lessons

On the final day, we had a refreshment hour—aka the unofficial Volunteer Olympics. There were snacks, soft drinks, indoor games, and lots of laughter. It was more than just a party; it was a team-building, feedback-sharing, memory-making moment. A perfect ending to a week of creativity, connection, and controlled chaos.

And that’s Part 1 in the bag, where I juggled headcounts, dodged curious kids, debated the politics of paint, and shared quiet moments that felt anything but small. Volunteering at Middlesbrough Art Week wasn’t just about keeping things running; it was about witnessing art do what it does best: connect, challenge, and surprise.

Stay tuned for Part 2, where I trade my volunteer badge for a visitor’s hat and dive headfirst into the art itself—plus my overwhelming role as host of the LARP sessions (yes, live-action roleplay and contemporary art do mix). Spoiler alert: things get even more colorful, more critical, and a little bit theoretical.