The more theatre I see- the more plays I read- the more I feel the groaning weight of history, of scholarship, of stories, of “words, words, words,” that I don’t know- haven’t seen productions of. I have limited experience of Chekhov- having only read The Seagull, Three Sisters and The Cherry Orchard… lucky for me Uncle Vanya will be making his way onto stage at The Sydney Theatre Company in November this year- saving me an afternoon hunched over a yellowing and somewhat brittle penguin edition. But largely my relationship with Chekov has been theoretical- and not practical. I didn’t see Cate Blanchette as Nina in 1997… I dd not see the original Russian production nearly 100 years earlier in Russia. I have however had the opportunity to see Siren Theatre company’s The Seagull at Sidetrack Theatre this month. more…
Last Friday was a crazy day. I made the decision to do some life maintenance- you know, pay bills, clean the bathroom, make lists, look at the lists, then cross things off the list once completed. I thought I’d bake some muffins, my neighbour had handed over a hand of blackening bananas for me to transform into soft warm morsels- something I love doing. I bake muffins for a couple of reasons- one is the fact that I spent my teenage years in a banana growing region of NSW- so the banana recipe of my family is a sacred one, another reason is during times of stress and crippling workload- sometimes you need a task which has clearly defined and a conquerable beginning, middle and end (indeed an end which results in eating), another, I find it the easiest way to remind the botanist that though he is knee-deep in PhD writing- that I still exist and he deserves treats for tackling evolutionary science in such a rigorous/focused way. In fact, in a lot of ways I express myself through muffins. I spent last Friday, doing work- I wrote a review, had tea with two very interesting visual artists: http://timandrewart.com/ and http://www.bendenham.com/ , enjoyed the sound of aggressive rain on the leaves of the trees in my garden, had a scrumptious pasta dinner, replied to a metric tonne of emails, paid rent, answered enquiries of a theatrical nature… and bundled myself up, battling the elements to see Peter Brook’s 11 and 12 at the Sydney Theatre with Mr Waites. more…
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I wanted to see this production primarilly because of the Letts’ fever that seems to be apparent in theatres across the world. As a part of the playwrighting zietgeist, Tracy Letts is a familiar name… and will continue to be in the coming months as Steppenwolf’s production of August: Osage County is brought into town by the STC… (not to be confused with the production by the Melbourne Theatre Company last year)… Pulitzers will do that to you, I suppose. (And don’t bother to ask Kristina Keneally about Pulitzers- she’s still trying to work out if plays are literature.) Anyway, in a country that isn’t Australia, which is The United States of America, Tracy Letts has written plays, been awarded money and prizes for them, and now is enjoying stage time at The Griffin Theatre “the home of New Australian writing.”
Like last year, Griffin Theatre Company programmed as a part of their Independent season an early play by Martin Crimp- around the same time the STC was also showing a Martin Crimp. This year it is a Tracy Letts fest, – so I decided to catch the show. It’s an interesting strategy of Griffin’s to have the independent wing introduce a writer to the general public- the earlier work of a writer, in an independent season- before they fork out the serious dollars for the STC production of the new work by the writer. A part of me finds it useful for people to see the growth of a writer- a part of me finds it irritating that there isn’t more diversity, especially when so many living Aussie Writers hunger for the space that the Griffin used to provide them with. more…
Sunday was a big day. Not just any Sunday- but a pretty special Sunday- the day for industry and peers to come and offer their support, thoughts, feedback to the four new works which have been in development through Queen Street Studio’s Script development hothouse “Off the Shelf”. more…
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I make no bones about being an avid supporter of new work- of any kind. In fact I take pleasure in the hunt to find new scripts brimming with new ideas, new approaches to theatre- I love the hunt for new work- I often refer to it as treasure hunting. I love new work because of its unknown parameters. Its dark hidden corners and its undiscovered territories- I’m not afraid to go there and encounter a play on it’s own terms- and although some writing is not to my personal taste I can always admire the playwright’s tenacity and bravery in contributing to the long winding history of theatrical story-telling. It’s not easy. It’s often painful and unrewarding. more…
It’s an exciting time for Sydney’s independent artists.
An exciting time for those who are brave enough to throw themselves into the big, deep unknown.
It’s an exciting time for those teams who have been in rehearsal the last 4 weeks, refining and developing their scripts for the first taste of the Sydney Fringe… in the Off the Shelf showing this weekend… more…
Photo: Leah McGirr
A huge congratulations to Sam Strong for scoring the Artistic Directorship of Griffin Theatre, at the SBW Stables!
I struggled through the door of my apartment today with a wad of window envelopes from my mail box in my mouth, brief case in one hand, my keys in the other, mobile phone wedged in the gap between my ear and my shoulder. I was on a whimsical spontaneous phone call to my parentals who are in their beach-side town 8 hours drive north from here- as my mother asks me if I knew this “fellow”who got the job at Griffith… I am puzzled. I have just come from an OFF THE SHELF rehearsal- I am hungry. Tired. Listing the things I have to do today. “Griffin” she corrects herself. “No” I said. I hadn’t heard. My throat tightens. (I thought I was so in the loop- clearly not- my mother with a newspaper in a tiny north coast NSW town proves yet again she knows more than me). “Sam Strong?” She said, as though it was the weirdest name in the world. (which is funny when you consider her daughter’s name). My throat unclenches. “Awesome” I say… and it’s a genuine relief. “He’s a great guy.” After the phonecall I open my mail- a letter inside announcing his appointment. I check my email there’s an email from James Waites with the press release attached. “Cool” I think to myself as I relax… “Griffin is is safe, strong hands.” more…
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In the black space of Carriagework’s Bay 20 is a woman. A chair. A collection of wicker baskets. An overhead projector. A Computer. A collection of props: lace, flowers, shoes. Scattered in clumps of colour. Heavy black curtains are drawn at the back of space. Lights shoot across the space. The audience scuffs in, some of them chatting, some still wrapped up in scarves- it’s a cold night, some audience members are silently staring at the woman as she fiercely gazes out into the auditorium- two assistants encircling her- positioning her. Folding and unfolding. Dressing. And undressing her. Tilting her head. Moving her hands. Forcing her to tap her foot. There is music playing- the sort that sounds like a female crooner- torch songs- epic love ballads about thwarted romances, broken hearts, longing and survival- one I don’t recognise- I don’t recognise the songs. It’s music from the Phillipines I don’t understand the lyrics. I don’t need to. I understand the feeling. more…
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A flurry of text messages had been flying around. “Did you hear some playwrights have decided to hold their own night on Monday? Are you going?” “Are you going to the playwright’s thing?” “How do I RSVP?” In the past few weeks, I had been casually thumbing through newspapers at cafes when waiting for my coffee, to see if and when and how the topic of the absence of a play shortlist for the 2010 NSW Premier’s Literary Awards had been noted. Not really… one article from Bryce Hallet:
http://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/books/playwrights-snubbed-by-award-judges-20100516-v6aa.html and this one from Marc McEvoy http://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/books/playlist-for-judges-in-search-of-a-premier-shortlist-20100412-s413.html
No response from Kristina…
more…
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“Don’t throw the past away
You might need it some rainy day
Dreams can come true again
When everything old is new again!”
In 1981, in Australia, there was a three day conference for Women in the arts to discuss issues facing women in the creative arts. Nearly 30 years later, there was a day dedicated to the issues raised last year “Where are the Women?” for a variety of practitioners (directors primarilly) and those working in the Major Performing Arts Organisations to talk about strategies to enable a better representation of female practitioners in key creative roles in mainstage productions. Representation came from far and wide- and like that of the Philip Parson’s lecture/panel discussion last year, featured some of Australia’s most formidable female talent. more…
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