Clemency Burton-Hill: ‘I can say now, after my brain injury, that music can save a life’
The broadcaster on a new documentary about how music helped her recover from a catastrophic haemorrhage, having a tricky name, and why ‘Arsène knows’ would be her dream tattooClemency Burton-Hill, 43, was born in Hammersmith, London, and brought up by her mother, casting director Gillian Hawser, alongside her two older half-brothers. She has performed internationally as a violinist, acted, written five books, worked as an arts journalist, and been a regular BBC classical music presenter and broadcaster since 2008. In January 2020, she suffered a brain haemorrhage caused by an abnormal connection between arteries and veins in the brain. A new BBC Arena film, My Brain: After the Rupture, about the experience and her recovery and aphasia, will be shown this Friday. She lives in Washington DC with her husband, James Roscoe, and sons Tomos and Joe.My Brain: After the Rupture is an astonishingly honest film about your brain injury. How would you describe it?The reason it exists isn’t because I suddenly thought I’d like to have a documentary about my absolute fucking nightmare. Sorry! I do swear these days. At no point have I been one of those people who feels as if I hold any interest. But as a journalist and a broadcaster who had lost all my ability to speak and to write, I did realise that I had this unbelievable privilege to tell this story.In what sense? Unlike most brain injury survivors, I had a platform, or knew how to get the wheels turning, in terms of telling people how something like this could happen. I also had this very strong sense of wanting to do something useful for the community of people who have had brain injuries, especially as we still don’t know what is going to happen to me ultimately, or anyone else.This documentary gets incredibly raw and personal at times. Was it important to you to show the toughest moments?It felt really important that none of this was sugar-coated. Yes, what happened to me was extraordinarily rare and random and weird and wild, and here’s where all the platitudes and cliches come out, but we just don’t know how long we’ve got. We don’t know what is going to happen in five years or five minutes.But there is hope in your film, too, especially when you start playing your violin again.Yes, we didn’t make a film to make people depressed. I didn’t want people to think, oh God, I’m going to have a brain injury [too], so I’m going to go away and just watch kittens on the internet instead! Continue reading...
The broadcaster on a new documentary about how music helped her recover from a catastrophic haemorrhage, having a tricky name, and why ‘Arsène knows’ would be her dream tattoo
Clemency Burton-Hill, 43, was born in Hammersmith, London, and brought up by her mother, casting director Gillian Hawser, alongside her two older half-brothers. She has performed internationally as a violinist, acted, written five books, worked as an arts journalist, and been a regular BBC classical music presenter and broadcaster since 2008. In January 2020, she suffered a brain haemorrhage caused by an abnormal connection between arteries and veins in the brain. A new BBC Arena film, My Brain: After the Rupture, about the experience and her recovery and aphasia, will be shown this Friday. She lives in Washington DC with her husband, James Roscoe, and sons Tomos and Joe.
My Brain: After the Rupture is an astonishingly honest film about your brain injury. How would you describe it?
The reason it exists isn’t because I suddenly thought I’d like to have a documentary about my absolute fucking nightmare. Sorry! I do swear these days. At no point have I been one of those people who feels as if I hold any interest. But as a journalist and a broadcaster who had lost all my ability to speak and to write, I did realise that I had this unbelievable privilege to tell this story.
In what sense?
Unlike most brain injury survivors, I had a platform, or knew how to get the wheels turning, in terms of telling people how something like this could happen. I also had this very strong sense of wanting to do something useful for the community of people who have had brain injuries, especially as we still don’t know what is going to happen to me ultimately, or anyone else.
This documentary gets incredibly raw and personal at times. Was it important to you to show the toughest moments?
It felt really important that none of this was sugar-coated. Yes, what happened to me was extraordinarily rare and random and weird and wild, and here’s where all the platitudes and cliches come out, but we just don’t know how long we’ve got. We don’t know what is going to happen in five years or five minutes.
But there is hope in your film, too, especially when you start playing your violin again.
Yes, we didn’t make a film to make people depressed. I didn’t want people to think, oh God, I’m going to have a brain injury [too], so I’m going to go away and just watch kittens on the internet instead! Continue reading...
