Harriet Richardson is a performance artist and, as we shall see, a definitely-not-a-comedian based in London, whose work – such as ‘100 Dates’ and ‘Temporary’, explores themes of love, sex, and intimacy. Taking her performance art as a starting point, she has developed the show ‘Creep’, which she brings to the Fringe as her debut hour. We spoke to Harriet about ‘Creep’, how she developed the show, and why diving into the unknown is the best way to experience the festival.

Can you tell us about ‘Creep?’

‘Creep’ is a show about parasocial relationships and its connection to performing in everyday life. That’s the clever answer. The dumb answer is it’s a show about having an affair with a man from the TV. So it is what you want it to be, I suppose! Aside from what it is to audiences, to me it’s a way to exorcise from my body all the feelings and emotions and things that are going on that feel important to say; you know, performing as a woman, performing as a good person, performing as a an adult, an artist, a performer.

The show takes your performance piece ‘100 Dates‘ as a starting point. How do you go about adapting your art into an hour-long Fringe show?

I think it’s less about adapting it, because it’s always sort of been received by people as a thing that can be easily consumed, and I think that’s because of my background in design and advertising. I’ve always had to know how to speak to an audience or at least convey certain emotions or elicit them so the arts already – like ‘100 Dates’ or the tattoo or all the other pieces that are in it – they were sort of fit for purpose already. And the job was more to connect them in a way where I explained to people why they’re connected, but also what that journey was.

To be honest, it’s been a delight to write because so much of my work also just sort of happens in my house by myself, and to find a way to tell people about it has been really delicious because it’s not a thing I think that most artists get to do; share it with a massive audience. Or hopefully I mean – fingers crossed – a big audience. Or a medium or small audience. I don’t mind!

Where do you get the ideas for your work – particularly ‘Temporary’? Because there’s something sort of ephemeral about a Fringe show, and getting catharsis or evaluating your experiences that way. What was the decision to make it something so permanent?

I mean, it serves me first. I think maybe that’s the main difference that I see between performance art and stand-up comedy, which is why I’m hesitant to ever call myself a comedian. Because I would have done all of these things if there was no one to tell about it. I got the tattoo months and months and months before I ever even said that I’d got it done. I would have done it anyway.

I think most of my ideas are born out of a desperation to try and express a feeling that can’t be expressed in any other way. It just so happens now that it makes sense… [that] this new piece of work, this new artwork, just happens to take the form of a show. So I suppose what I’m saying is it’s inherently selfish because I would use them anyway and now I get to share it.

When I come up with ideas like ‘Temporary’, for example, I had the idea a few years ago. And it was genuinely like, you know, when something comes to you and you sort sit up in bed and you’re like, ‘Wait, that’s exactly how it feels!’ And ‘Temporary’ – getting the tattoos of all the mother’s names of the men I’d slept with – I wanted to find a way to say, ‘This has happened,’ and it will always mean something to me, no matter who the person was, because I find intimacy so intense. But I didn’t want a man’s name on my body because… I just didn’t! I can’t stand the idea of it being dedicated to a man. I had more in common with the mother than I ever did with the son. We both had the same experience of looking after the same man, of being intimate with him in a way but not many other people will experience. So that’s how I came to that.

But it’s also lovely because I just for some reason I’m always coming up with like the most provocative end of an ideam, and that really feels like one of them that splits the room and I tend to be drawn to those.

Would taking your performance to the stage be a logical next step; a progression of the art you’re already making?

I actually choose the form that a piece of work takes based on what feels most appropriate. I had an affair with a comedian, and I’m now doing an Edinburgh Fringe show about it, so I just think there’s a beautiful irony to it. In the same way that the tattoo being on my female body, that is my body, and people will have an opinion about it. It’s the same as sex. I suppose it’s just like the most meta answer to, [the question], ‘Where can this live?’ which is I think is always the best outcome.

What are your hopes for the show? What would constitute a successful Fringe for you?

You’re going to think I’m so stupid because I’ll say this, and I know people don’t believe me when I say it, but I feel like the writing of it, me having written it, and the form that it’s in now where I’m actually quite happy with what it says about me and what it says about these relationships; that’s the success. I didn’t know that I’d be able to do that, and I feel like I’ve personally achieved something that… never in my wildest dreams did I think I would do a Fringe show. Genuinely. I’m from a working class family in Manchester. I thought that art firstly was for art galleries with white walls and rich people to buy paintings. I thought that performers were people that were born into like acting families in LA. I had no idea that I’d be able to do any of it.

So the achievement for me is doing it.  [But] I’m still human, so obviously if someone gives me a horrid review I’ll still feel it. But the reviews are so secondary to the personal achievement of having made something that feels true and honest and I can be proud of. And I know that sounds like what a parent say on parents evening, but I can’t tell you how true that feels.

And I really do think the barriers to entry with the Fringe particularly as well, and going into it not knowing… I think had I known actually how much it costs. And not just monetary, but the dedication, the stress, the competition with friends, and all of this stuff. I think had I known… I’m just glad that I didn’t because I’m not sure that I would have done it. But now I’m so glad that I had! Short answer: doing it is the achievement!

Is the show pretty much locked in or how much room have you left for it to evolve and adapt during August?

I think I always wanted it to be fluid in the sense that performance art is that. So, with ‘100 Dates’ I didn’t know what the person was going to be like or say. That was I think what keeps it exciting for me as an artist and it’s also the most honest form a connection can take, is [that] it’s not planned. So I’ve got structure to the show. I mean, I’m happy with the structured bits that weren’t changed, but there’s parts in it where I won’t know how they go until the day. I don’t want to ruin it, but something happened to me less than a month ago; I was trying to think of an ending for the show, and I kind of had one but I was like, ‘There must be something else,’ and I got a message from a man whose mother’s name is on the tattoo. It felt like the universe going, ‘Here’s your prize!’

You’ve touched on some of the negative aspects of the Fringe. What is it that you’re most looking forward to about of Fringe itself?

I think it’s a complete gift that all of these artists can exist in one space for one month. I just think that in itself is an achievement. But you can’t say that and then not talk about the classism and, like I said, the barrier to entry; not just financially but the backgrounds [represented]. It’s incredible because there’s so many different people in a space, but are those people representative of all of the artists in the UK, in the world?

I really do feel quite bittersweet going into it because I’ve met people who would thrive in that environment who will never get to go unless some sort of miracle happens. Sorry, I’m focusing on the negatives!  The positives are I guess that incredible artists are here. I have a tendency to date male comedians, which I’m really, really going to try and keep under lock and key this year, because I don’t need to write another show!

I think also, I live in London and I can’t wait to be in Scotland. I fucking love Scotland, and I think people forget because it’s so Fringe, but you forget that you’re going to be in one of the most beautiful places in the world for a month, eating haggis and tattie scones, so I’m actually really enthused to be somewhere else. Because I also think that’s the essence of coming up with new work, is being in a different environment with different people. So yeah, I’m really about that.

Besides ‘Creep’, can we expect to see you perform and elsewhere during the Fringe?

Absolutely not! [laughs]. But for the reason I decided on quite early on. I was really worried about getting sort of Playdo-smushed into the shape of being a comedian and I’m deeply not a comedian. So the want to please friends, or help someone out, or see if I can do 10 minutes has been pushed aside by the fact that I know that that’s not what I’m meant to be doing. I think the show is storytelling really. I find it difficult to tell a story in 10 minutes, and I wouldnt want to put anyone through that. But always ask me; it’s nice to say no!

Are there any other shows or performers at the Fringe that you would recommend that perhaps wouldn’t get the attention that they otherwise deserve?

To be quite honest, because of the amount of energy and time and things that [‘Creep’ has] taken from me for the last year, I’ve been blinkered so I haven’t taken in as much as I would like. However, the opportunity is therefore at Fringe because I got to go and see them.

I know a lot of the sort of self-made artists like, for example, Spencer Jones who’s doing ‘Dogs‘. I’ve seen that a couple of times and he supported me in the preview I just did and he’s absolutely fantastic. He’s such a good example of someone who’s making it work, from making every single prop himself, and he just has this ethos that I just am obsessed with where it’s like, ‘I’ll find a way!’ you know? And I think that that’s so beautiful to see because it’s absolute opposite of a clown who’s doing an advert for Meta glasses, you know?

Who else? I mean, I don’t want to say because I also think the beauty of Fringe is that you don’t go to the ones that people recommend. I know that’s probably weird saying that in an interview about going to the Fringe, but I think the beauty of it is you turn up, you go and see something that you normally wouldn’t go and see, and it might change your life. Or you might think it’s shit, but that’s the point, isn’t it?

‘Creep‘ is at Below at Pleasance Courtyard from Wed 5 to Sun 30 Aug 2026