Behind the Barn Doors: Subcircle's Artist Residency in Biddeford, Maine
- Brick + Tides
- Jul 9
- 6 min read
On Guinea Road, an old barn has become a place where artists find something increasingly difficult to come by: time.
The first thing I did after climbing the stairs was take off my shoes.
Scott McPheeters had already slipped off his. Niki Cousineau had done the same. Nobody asked me to, and I never saw a sign. Standing there in socks on the smooth birch floor, it simply felt like the right thing to do.
Only a few minutes earlier, I had been walking through the first floor of an old barn. The beams overhead were rough with age, the walls still showed thin slivers of daylight between weathered boards, and a gifted old wooden shoe rack hung from reclaimed wood as a quiet reminder of the building's past.
Upstairs, everything changed. Fresh pine covered the walls and ceiling. Giant windows filled the studio with late afternoon light. Beneath my feet was a professional dance floor, carefully built to cushion the bodies of artists who spend hours rehearsing, falling, turning and beginning again.
It didn't take long to notice that the most carefully restored part of the entire property wasn't the farmhouse or the barn itself.
It was the room where artists create.
Building One of Maine's Most Unique Artist Residencies
The farmhouse at 97 Guinea Road was built in 1810, ten years before Maine became a state. Long known as Shamrock Farm, the property spent generations as a working farm, and may be remembered by locals as the former plant nursery. Today, the old farmhouse still watches over the property, while the barn has found an entirely different purpose.
Like many people who grew up in York County, I've driven past this property more times than I could ever count. Sitting just before the S-curve on Guinea Road while heading from West Street to Meetinghouse Road, it's the kind of place you notice without really seeing. During the summer, leaves hide much of the barn from passing traffic. In winter, it's easier to spot, but you're still more likely to be watching the road than looking into the trees.
That may be why so many people have never discovered what happens here.
Every summer, artists from around the country arrive on Guinea Road carrying dance shoes, instruments, cameras, notebooks and unfinished ideas. They come from California, New York, Pennsylvania, Illinois and beyond. For ten days, this quiet corner of Biddeford becomes their home.
Building the Place They Needed - Artist Residency Maine
Today, Subcircle operates one of Maine's most distinctive artist residencies, but the organization began in Philadelphia in 1999 when Niki and Jorge Cousineau founded a performance company built around original work. Niki, a choreographer and dancer, partnered with Jorge, a theater designer, to create productions that blended movement, sound and visual storytelling. As the years passed, another collaborator became part of that creative family.
Scott McPheeters first met Niki through Union Church in Biddeford Pool, where Niki's mother served as pastor. He hadn't even started studying dance when he first watched her perform.
"The first time I ever saw improvisational dance was Niki performing for one of the services," Scott told me. "Then we ended up in the same community."
That community eventually became Philadelphia, where Scott immersed himself in dance and joined Subcircle as a collaborator in 2008. Years later, it was Scott who called Niki after finding an old farm for sale in Biddeford.
"I'm going to look at this property," he remembered saying. "Would you guys be interested in starting an artist residency?" Niki replied that starting a residency was already a long time goal of theirs.
Neither of them pretends the next chapter happened easily.
The buildings needed years of work. The barn had to be emptied. Fundraising became part of everyday life. Friends showed up for community barn raisers. Slowly, the upstairs studio began taking shape while the rest of the barn remained largely untouched.
Looking around today, that decision feels intentional.
The downstairs still tells the story of the farm.
Upstairs tells the story of what the farm became.
What Artists Really Need
Most people assume artists dream about larger audiences or bigger stages. Listening to Niki and Scott, I came away believing they value something much simpler.
Time.
Every resident arrives with a proposal describing the project they hope to develop, but that proposal isn't treated as a contract.
Artists apply for a residency with a specific project in mind, "But if they change their mind, we're not going to hold them to what they said they were going to do. They should use it how it best supports them,” said Niki.
She paused for a moment before saying something that quietly explained everything they have built.
I kept thinking about that sentence long after our interview ended.
In almost every profession, people spend their days answering emails, filling out paperwork, managing schedules and solving problems. Artists aren't any different. The actual work of creating often gets squeezed into whatever hours remain. Subcircle exists to reverse that equation, if only for ten days.
An Invitation to Witness the Process
One of the things that makes Subcircle different is that visitors aren't invited to watch polished performances.
They're invited to watch unfinished ones.
Throughout the residency season, artists open the studio to the public, sharing work that is still changing.
Some pieces are only days old. Others have been developing for years. Audience members ask questions, offer observations and sometimes influence where the work goes next.
"When people engage with the performing arts, it's usually going to a final production," Scott said. "It's different to come and engage with an artist who's still asking questions about the work."
He smiled before adding, "The audience ends up being part of the mapping of that project."
That philosophy feels remarkably consistent with everything else about the property.
Still Artists Themselves
It would be easy to assume that building an artist residency became Niki and Scott's full-time creative work. It hasn't.
Scott teaches dance and choreography at local colleges including Colby College, Bates College and Bowdoin College and is currently teaching at the internationally respected Bates Dance Festival. His students arrive from different backgrounds and experiences, creating a steady exchange of ideas that naturally finds its way back into conversations inside the barn.
They both continue making work of their own.
This October, Niki will premiere Some Other Body at Mechanics Hall in Portland, a full-length performance she first imagined nearly six years ago. The project explores memory, aging and the stories our bodies carry with them over time. Live music will be performed by her son, Willem Cousineau, alongside Philadelphia musician Mason McAvoy.
"It's a piece that I conceived so I could continue performing it as I age," she said. "It will change as I age as well."
Scott has spent months serving as rehearsal director for the production.
I couldn't help thinking back to something Scott had told me earlier in the evening. More than twenty years ago, he had watched Niki perform at Union Church in Biddeford Pool before he ever imagined becoming a dancer himself. Today, he's helping shape her newest work.
Some collaborations don't happen quickly.
The best ones rarely do.
The Room Upstairs
As our conversation ended, we wandered outside to take photographs.
The evening light settled across the fields surrounding the old barn. A gentle breeze moved through the tall grass while the giant studio windows reflected the last warm light of the day. Looking back toward the building, it struck me that the upstairs studio may have been one of the most thoughtful rooms I've ever been in.
Every improvement serves the artists who use it. The oversized windows replace artificial lighting with daylight. The polished floor protects dancers through hours of rehearsal. The shoes left quietly at the door remind visitors that this room deserves care because it cares for the people working inside it.
Driving away, the barn disappeared behind the trees almost as quickly as it had appeared.
Tomorrow, hundreds of people will round that same curve on Guinea Road without realizing what sits just beyond the leaves. I understand why. Until this week, I had been doing exactly the same thing.
Now, every time I pass that old barn, I'll think less about what it used to be and more about what it has become—a place where artists are trusted with something increasingly difficult to find: enough time, enough quiet and enough room to create something new.
Many thanks to Niki and Scott for their time on Wednesday, July 8, 2026 in Biddeford, Maine.
To learn more about Subcircle, visit their website (www.subcircle.org) and follow them on Instagram ( @subcircleresidency )
