Whenever anyone dies young it is a massive shock to those left behind and the sudden loss of our friend Mandy Beckwith, at just 47, still feels incomprehensible. There are some people in life who simply have that ‘X factor’ (a term I feel has unfortunately become tainted by trashy TV) and Mandy had it in spades. It makes her loss even harder to bear. She truly was special and genuinely brought joy to the lives of those around her as she was effortlessly funny, genuinely kind, multi-talented and incredibly modest.
An amusing and skilled a wordsmith as, for example, Bill Bryson, she could quite easily have been a best-selling author had she not been content with her lot in life simply regaling the rest of us on Facebook and Twitter with tales of her everyday life in Burnsall.
Single since I have known her and living with her mother, whom Mandy referred to as FPU (female parental unit), she was as far removed from the traditional image of spinster as it’s possible to be. She and Lynn were more like sisters than mother and daughter, a duo that brought joy to the rest of us through her innate humour. It was enormously fitting, though tragic, that she is to be immortalised as The Mad Hatter. Mandy was taken ill playing the role at the dress rehearsal of Grassington Pantoloon’s ‘Alice in Wonderland’ and died later that night, leaving her fellow cast, friends and family bereft.
She was so much more than just a funny girl though and I hope that sharing some of my memories will help serve as a tribute to her alongside the countless other heartfelt stories being shared by devastated family and friends.
The night I met Mandy was a read-through for Grassington Players at Aynham Close, in the days when that was a care facility before the existing houses were built. The year was 2006, the play was Steel Magnolias and this was my directorial debut with the Players.
Not only did she star in that production, she also designed the Steel Magnolias poster and programme which ‘planted the seed’ for us working together professionally later.
In rehearsal – Mandy sporting a crazy wig as M’Lynn
In 2008, Mandy and I performed together, this time in Burnsall. I was Laurey to her Ado Annie in Oklahoma! Yes, she sure as hell could sing too. She always laughed at the photo of our duet back-to-back on a hamper highlighting our size difference! Our shared, fondest memory of that production though was the night when, we stood on opposite sides of the wings waiting to go on after Rodney Roberts’ (aka Curley’s) opening number. An interloping neighbourhood cat brushed against my legs and onto the set: Enter upstage left! Not wanting to dash on stage intrusively in pursuit, I began semaphoring across the set to Mandy ‘Get the cat!’ as he was headed towards her, USR. Not surprisingly, she was at a complete loss to understand what I could possibly mean. A what? Get what? As the audience started tittering, my signalling became even more frantic. Mandy finally spotted said cat, Hamish, nonchalantly strolling across the set in her direction and prepared to grab him. Poor Rodney, giving Oh What A Beautiful Morning his all, had no idea why the audience were laughing as Hamish strolled behind him. The precious scene was captured on film and remains a glorious reminder on Mandy’s Facebook page, for those who can see it, as follows: https://www.facebook.com/mandybeckwith/videos/466908246979https://www.facebook.com/profile/585226979/search/?q=oklahoma #happydays.
Moving on, I remember Mandy turning up on our doorstep in tears one day. She had just been made redundant. At that point I had no ‘number 2’ at Manifest and, given her design talents, I invited her to work with me. And so, for a while, she was an employee. It was a stepping-stone to her starting her own micro business Corvus Graphics, which she ran alongside working part-time looking after tots at the local nursery. Though she had no children of her own, she was obviously great with kids and was an inspirational leader at a club for young archaeologists.
During her tenure at Manifest, Mandy – thankfully a crazy cat woman herself – undertook cat midwifery when Homie (the furry one) decided to give birth on a day when I was out of the office. A few months later she also had to deal with Homie when, after being spayed, she managed to ditch her protective collar, escape the house and rip open her stitches on a rampage in the garden! Poor Mandy. The fact that the same cat is walking over my desk as I type now, while Mandy is gone, only adds insult to injury.
When Grassington Players were given the license for the amateur world premier of Calendar Girls we hoped Mandy would take a part. She would have been brilliant in any of the roles but was not to be persuaded. She did however, design the poster and programme, and in her typically understated but wonderful way, paid her own tribute to the original girls; the beautiful naked back featured on the cover, is, of course, Mandy’s – the photo taken by her FPU in their bathroom.
As Corvus and Manifest, Mandy and I worked together regularly over the years on one-off design and branding projects. As well as being a talented designer she was a consummate professional who always went the extra mile for everyone. Having heard the sad news of her death, one client contacted me this week saying “In my meetings with her to do with artwork for leaflets etc she was always so vivacious and helpful – it seems almost unbelievable and tragic that she should die so young. Please pass our condolences to her family and friends.”
In particular, Mandy was always my go-to designer for creating logos and produced several over the years for my clients. One of my favourites being that which she designed for Armstrong Luty Solicitors. The medical concept I think worked really well to distinguish them as personal injury specialists.
And, yes, my Manifest Marketing logo was her design, which ensures she will remain at the forefront of my mind as I mourn yet celebrate everything that made her uniquely and manifestly Mandy.
Corvus and Manifest at a client’s launch event