Well thank goodness that’s over! I don’t know about you, but 2011 was a weird one.

It was a melee a hubbub of choices, realisations, conversations, applications, squabbles, offers, acceptances, approaches, debates and near misses. I had cleared the decks – ended my long-term relationship with one of the nicest botanists Canada has produced, left a job I loved, stepped away from my much loved annual projects, and decided that 2011 would be a fallow year for me.

A quiet year.

A year off.

Instead of my usual large scale multi-playwright productions I decided to sit back and see who of all the playwrights and artists I have worked with/commissioned/coffeed who would come to me. I decided to dedicated myself to being available to be approached by any/all artists… and I decided I would try just reviewing… or even try to get a job at a theatre company (end my years of hard-slog independence – after all I felt in the need of shelter after a fairly tumultuous upheaval of job/love/life/identity)… I decided 2011 would be small, quiet and I would not launch anything big. I decided that I would spend a year listening and watching… a year of reading and inhaling.

In 2011 I saw 134 shows and wrote 128 reviews (that’s approx 120,000 words). I directed 11 playlettes in 3 months (equating to nearly 3 hours of stage content). I wrote 10 columns discussing the Australian cultural landscape. I met with many people about starting a Writer’s Theatre in Sydney. I held three play readings in my living room. I was nominated for a Sidney Myer Fellowship by some of my industry heroes. I wrote two lots of rehearsal observation for Michal Imielski. I was quoted nationally and internationally about cultural stuff I ranted about – mainly to do with theatre criticsm, sexism/ portrayal of women in plays, the culture of new play development. I was flown to Brisbane to the Australian Theatre Forum to “blog.” I commented on the National Cultural Policy. I commented on the Reg Murphy Centre. I hosted artists and crew and Adelaide’s lady Blogger Jane Howard in my spare room. I celebrated Currency Press’ 40th Birthday. I ate breakfast with Bruce Beresford and Noni Hazelhurst. I maintained my duties as a Board member of Shopfront Theatre AND was a founding advisory board member a brand new artist-run visual art gallery in Dank St Waterloo called Kaleidoscope Gallery run by the delightful Sami Mitchell-Fin. I helped plant a vegie garden in Granville. I surrendered to a new and terrifying relationship which breaks my Cardinal rule of “never date someone in The Industry!” I taught at NIDA (weird!). I delighted in regularly eating cheese and chatting with Kevin Jackson at opening nights. I joined a gym! I attended the National Play Festival. I was befriended by Anthony Skuse and fell in love with him and his partner and their life. I met regularly with Olivia Satchell and Shondelle Pratt for theatre/career discussion coffee catch ups. I visited Vanessa Hughes and Alan Logan in the Blue Mountains. I finally got my drivers license (after being too scared/busy). I started working with 7-On playwrights. I shot a short film. I wrote 14 letters of support/references for artists and organisations.

I ended the year by the river in Karuah, playing guitar with Michal Imielski and singing impromptu songs to a star splattered sky.

That was my year.

That was 2011.

Anyway. What you want to hear is my summary of 2011 in the world of theatre/culture/performance/art.

As you all know I don’t believe in competition in art. The act is pursuit enough.

Also, I’m not in the Sydney Theatre Critics circle. There is no award. I think that the notion of the Theatre Awards (Helpmans and the Theatre Critics Awards) is a bit weird, especially as not ALL theatre, nor ALL performance is attended or assessed by all of them. The shows that are eligible for nomination by the Theatre Critics must be seen by all reviewers – which really only encompasses 20% of actual theatre happening in Sydney – and predominently that of the main stages. And frankly, I don’t really think the main stages need awards and accolades – isn’t getting a wage and being resourced enough encouragement? The people who DO need the encouragement, the in-writing “thank you for your work” are the independent artists, the fringe artists, the emerging artists.

And look, I’ll admit it, I’m not really a critic. Not a proper one, anyway.

I try to respond to a show on it’s aspirations and context, more than my own. I also make work with the people I write up. I never claim to be an authority – but I always try to give credit where it’s due and ALWAYS find something to like about a production.

Here’s a thank you to all those unsung artists who kept me inspired and afloat, interested and curious in 2011 – one pf the weirdest years ever.

Thank you for the discussions, the conversations, the perspectives, the dreams, images, plays, installations and moments of surprise and delight. And thank you to all those who attended shows with me and all those who approached me to work with them – Alana Valentine, 7-On Playwrights, Vanessa Bates, Phil Spencer, Luke Carson, Katie Pollock, Lousie Fischer. It meant more to me than you’ll know.

Here’s a list of some of my favourite memories in theatre from this year.

New Australian plays worth noting and celebrating
Zebra by Ross Mueller
Sprout by Jessica Bellamy
This Year’s Ashes by Jane Bodie
Silent Disco by Lachlan Philpott
Aleksander and the Robot Maid by Caleb Lewis
Transparency by Suzie Miller
Dirtyland by Elise Hearst
Cut by Duncan Graham

Brave work by Emerging or independent Artists
Freshly Squeezed by Stagejuice Collective
Bare Boards Brave Hearts by Subtlenuance
Bite Sized by IPAN
How to Lose Sight by SHH
Cut Snake by Arthur
Confessions of a Grindr Addict by Gavin Roach
Bully Beef Stew by Sonny Dallas Law, Colin Kinchela and Bjorn Stewart
Bonfire by Sime Knezevic
Ama and Chan by Effie Nkrumah and Alan Lao
The Adventures of Alvin Sputnik: Deep Sea Explorer by Tim Watts

Outrageous things that happened in the industry
* MEDIA RELEASE: No Richard Burton Award for New Plays to be awarded in 2011 because there weren’t any “outstanding” plays submitted.
* Short and Sweet being given $1.5 million to continue to exploit, er I mean “expand” their business, er, I mean, “playwriting in Australia”
* ArtsNSW short response grant disappearing THEN reappearing unexpectedly
* Realizing all the literary managers in Sydney are either British or have worked in the UK
* Tom Wright claimed in the SMH: ”There’s patently been a glass ceiling that women directors have hit … I can’t see a similar issue in the realm of playwriting.”

Great online discussions
From www.augustasupple.com -
Whose story is this anyway? The rights and the wrongs of theatrical storytelling.
A small note: Do Good and You Will Be Happy | Phillip Johnston & Hilary Bell
Who reads reviews? Who cares? Why bother?
From www.theatrenotes.blogspot.com -
Review: The Story of Mary MacLane by Herself
From www.noplain.wordpress.com -
Adelaide Critics Circle Awards 2011
From my facebook -
Who do you prefer Billy Joel or David Bowie?
Who gets to call themselves an artist?

Who I read regularly this year:
www.cameronwoodhead.com
www.jameswaites.com
www.missclaraklemski.com
www.kjtheatrereviews.blogspot.com
www.crikey.com.au/life/culture/stage
http://noplain.wordpress.com/
www.shauntellebenjamin.com/
(and there are others I should mention I read – but let’s face it – I don’t think people who write under a pseudonym and conceal their identity deserve/or want recognition, do they?)

Talks and Forums
Tom Stoppard in coversation with Jonathan Biggins
Currency House Arts and Public Life Breakfast at Victoria Tea Rooms
Novemberism Panels hosted by John McCallum – especially Writer and Director when is it war and when does it work?
NIDA Sunday Playwright Forum: Old Worlds, New Horizons
John Malkovich in conversation with Jim Sharman

Artists to watch who debuted/made a splash in 2011/Who to watch
Zoe Norton Lodge (Writer, performer, producer, curator)
Gavin Roach aka “Felix” (Actor)
Erica Brennan (Performer)
Grant Moxom (Performer)
Pollyanna Nowicki (Actor, photographer, artist)
Sama Ky-Balson (Director)
Mark Rogers (Director/writer/devisor)
Helen O’Leary (Actor/writer)
Doug Hansell (Actor)
Bjorn Stewart (Performer devisor)
ISM Playwrights Collective (writers/event organisers)
Paige Rattray (Director/devisor/tour de force)
Vanessa Bates (Playwright)
Katie Pollock (Playwright)
Luke Carson (Playwright)

There is very little that will keep me away from the end of year Artslab showcase. Very little. Even readying a stack of new monologues by 7-on playwrights could not stop me.

The declarations are these: I am a board member of Shopfront Contemporary Arts and Performance, I also have the great honour of sitting on the panel which meets the Artslab applicants to discuss their ideas. I attend the mid year showing, make myself available for coffee and chats with the artists and at the end of each year I write a little to reflect my experience of watching their work, thinking, practice develop.

This year, six artists under took the Artslab Residency – all from differing backgrounds and interests – all with a different emphasis, different interest and different artistic inquiry – all offered six months to discover and uncover the question lying at the heart of their work. And the showcase which resulted is “Slow Reveal: Six New Works in a Timely Fashion.”

Erica J Brennan – A Feat Incomplete
Arriving at Shopfront in December 2010 with a presentation of a story on a laptop – for which the speakers didn’t work. It was a presentation on the seven different types of story. I watched as Erica J Brennan held a faint speaker to her ear and paraphrased her story to us (the panel) a retelling of a story already constructed then broken. She was fascinating to watch. I was glad technology failed. her analogue self was stunning and arresting.
At the mid session presentation (just after I had witnessed her contribution to subtlenuance’s monologue showcase “Bareboards Bravehearts”) Brennan presented a segment of her work at shopfront – a woman with far reaching horns listening to an urn full of water… chatting to a cute and whimsical mushroom – frightened by the audience and confessing a love story yet to be realized.
The final installment (not truly a final installment as I know this work will continue to grow and develop) showed a parallel universe – A man (David Buckley) and the mythical horned story goddess (Erica Brennan) have a sense that the other might exist. What was a simple idea was now very complex – a new found sophistication in technical and physical performance. A woman listens to the water from an ancient urn – a man listens to his teapot. It’s wildly ambitious. There is a sweetness and a softness in Erica’s work. She listens to text as though the sound is more important than content. And sometimes it is. but there is still content there – it’s about story – about ancient rhythm and themes. It is lyrical and meditative. There is a poetry – visual and aural in her work – there is synergy and lightness and surprise. This particular chapter of the development either needed a lot more stage time – more content – or less (content and time) – it was presented in an awkward mid-stage – which I actually don’t mind at all – because I can see it’s growing. She’s still working on it. I like that. And I like that about Erica J Brennan – It shows a confidence and a conviction about there being a long gestation period to creating. Good. I’m glad.

Grant Moxom – The Space Has Been Left Intentionally Blank
Grant is a friend of mine. I declare that openly. I have known him since he was a pup of 19 and a testamonial from him is on this site. That doesn’t mean I automatically like his work – or understand his aesthetic. It merely means I have cooked him dinner and we’ve shared bus rides, car rides and seen shows together.
Grant’s application we did not discuss over pesto penne in my backyard before he walked into the room at Shopfront. He had told me a sketch of an idea once presented at UNSW – of seeing how permissive/ameniable audiences were in sharing things about themselves. The application he presented was a hope to develop and explore that idea. I sat in the room. i wore the headphones. I listened to Grants voice reveal some things about himself that I had not heard before. It was intimate and strange. And there was an aspect which was curt and prescriptive.
The development showing I wore headphones again – this time at the industry showing. I was a little out of sync and I didn’t understand some of the instructions. I think I messed it up a bit. But I delighted in the chaos and the intricate descriptions. I gave feedback about gestalt images.
The final showing was very sophisticated – he had refined the instructions, had plotted and planned a stage show for all of us to see and 7 people to participate in. There was a strange and sickening moment when the headphone-wearing audience members stripped him, then whacked him on the back and it appeared as though they may be given the instruction to beat him. This was very confronting – I’m not even sure if any one else saw or felt that moment. I did. It raised a whole swelling mass of questions for me about permission and art and compliance. Would they as active/instructed audiences beat Grant with the stick, if the head phones instructed? Even if he gave permission for them to? Would we as passive /voyeurs be OK with sitting there watching them beat him – knowing full well that they are under instructions, from the man himself, to do so? I was then confronted with the question of free will versus determinism – how much is determined before we even walk into the theatre? How much of our accepting or rejecting anything a performer has to say has to do with our prejudices – for example a prejudice against a man with a goatee and long hair for one audience member was repulsive – but to me – everyone knows I’m a sucker for a man who looks like Jesus. But how much does even THAT superficial prejudice effect our reading and viewing of a situation? Interesting. But the work didn’t go there – perhaps it didn’t need to for me to have this overflow of questions.

Lucy Watson – Slipping
Lucy Watson. I met her after seeing her in the Pact Ensemble end of year work. Her application was amazing, imaginative, brutal, funny, smart. I don’t remember much – but I remember her hacking with scissors at a foam body she had sculpted. She was funny, prepared, curious, brave, surprising and creative. I remember feeling delighted and envious of her future. And I like how friendly yet awkward she was in the interview with bits of foam caught in her hair.
At the showing there was something different going on. A piano. A moon. A window sill. A letter. A mask. A pinata of glitter. I remember there being a lot of paint and colour and words. But I couldn’t tell you the story. It was more of a montage of theatrical experiments.
The final showing was quite different, once again. Beams of light fan out from the steps in the back room of the theatre space. Before long, feet white and long step down. There is a suitcase. She speaks. She tumbles and gasps at the suitcase. balancing and tumbling. I find it hard to focus on whats being said. I find it difficult to watch the bruises on her legs as they grab at the case. I’m not sure of the story – but it feels like the sound of words is more important than the content. I take that as my cue. I listen to the words as a score – not as a communication of language. I watch her. She finishes. She walks up stairs. She is gone.

Bernice Ong – Requiem
Bernice showed the panel at her interview a series of images from her visual art installations. She has moved into performance art – or living installation art. There was a picture of her washing her hair in milk I think… and photographs of oceans projected in a room. A stunning portfolio of work and ideas. All presented in a tidy and quiet voice.
The mid year showing had us in a waiting room she had created. Free to watch her roam and chew on chips – a baggy panted vagrant. A screen flickered on the wall. It was scarey, weird and boring – and surprising. I really liked it. And it’s OK that I didn’t know why.
The final work was in black and white. A whole room arranged. Traverse staging. She sat. Brushing her teeth with milk. A stack of TV screens a video of a cockroach kicking its legs at the sky, spinning and racing about before dying. Mozart. A requiem for a king. The threat of playing a violin – it felt like many moments of anticipation and preparation. Very different. Less casual than the showing more purposeful – rigid. More performative than the other – and different – but not necessarily “better” or “worse” – just a different take on a similar question: What is it to wait? What is it to watch? What do we chose to watch? How are we involved and implicated?

Rachel Weiner – Homunculus
Arriving for her interview last year – I had already seen her dance work in a version of Woyzeck at Downstairs Belvoir. She seemed very organised and in fact, I don’t mind admitting I was in awe of her sprite and bright manner.
Her mid-term showing was very formal. beautiful. Classical. Controlled. I felt a disconnect with her work – as it seemed too proper – or a little bit cerebral – less instinctual. Less well, something that I as a non-dancer could relate to. You see, I’m not a dancer. I don’t know how to read dance. I don’t know how to dance – so I look for the dancer’s face to see how they feel or think. this is because I know nothing about dance. Rachel’s performance seemed a little, well, like anyone could have made/danced it. I wanted to see more of her. I told her that.
The final show had developed out of sight – like Rachel had discovered a new language of movement in space – three beams of light that illuminate the space as she runs across the stage. New shapes, new moments, a relationship with light (more than just being lit). I felt she offered us a portrait of the red shoes which was unique to her… which was as much about physical pain/fear as it was the fear of being vulnerable.

Rachel Roberts – Eater
A very quiet, shy artist with a huge intellect. Her presentation found us (panelists) sitting on a floor attempting to wrap a present and write in a card within two minutes. Birthdays are horrible. And parties especially. She’s right. I agree. She was going to look at guilt, obligation and celebration. Interesting. A part of the Applespiel collective (which was born out of Wollongong) Rachel has a fair amount of experience in the realm of devising and questioning the world.
The mid year showing was an extension of that idea – now in a fully realised party situation with a pinata, gifts, coloured popcorn, exclusion of some guests. She rose onto the table in a red dress as we, the audience peered through the window.
The end of year – absolutely nothing to do with that. Completely new work based on the myth of the minotaur, and this time working with Bodysnatchers co-founder Mark Rogers (also from Wollongong). The writing credit goes to them both. The work is grand in scale – epic, mythic. (As a side note -interestingly, at the time of seeing this I was working on a piece called Ariadne by Verity Laughton – yes something in the air in regards to the minotaur stories) Her beautiful, powerful body elegantly stands – disco lit or draped in a silky robe. I follow the story – but only just – poetry takes over and it’s more about the lilt and lift of her soft voice. A text which may be a riveting read – but which I suspect might be best read slowly and softly to oneself on a quiet Tuesday night. Beautiful if not just for the stage imagery.

‘So?’ I ask. ‘What then? What next for these young artists?’

Where does this leave the six artists? What have they made/learn/discovered about art/making/being an artist? What do they hope? What will they do? Where next?

Firstly, I’d say they are digesting the feedback – the praise, the questions, the criticism. Then perhaps the will abandon or shelve the work – or keep it flickering on the side – or voraciously plan for a fringe tour? The point for me is this:

All came into Artslab as artists.

What they were given was 6 months to discover what they like/want/need to make the work that they want to make. They had room to fail, room to grow (same thing, really) Room to push themselves, to invest in themselves. They might have made some grand creative relationships – they might discovered who or what they want to work or and with (or not) – and that is all wonderful.

I refuse to rank or identify the artist with the greatest talent – as all have huge potential – ALL have something unique to offer- and that is themselves.

My wish for all of them is that they rest, learn to pace themselves, appreciate their achievement, celebrate their inconsistencies and shortcomings, keep in contact with those that inspire them, remain invigorated by all the possibility and above all else remain insatiably curious.

Underbelly Arts has nothing to do with the TV show. It won’t confront you with guns or nudity – frankly, it’s too cold. It’s an arts festival. An arts festival which dares to ask two key questions:

“What would happen if you brought up to 150 artists together under the one roof for ten days to develop new work?

What would happen if you then opened this process to the public, allowing them behind the scenes of art in the making?”

Saturday. A blue-sky winter’s day, it’s cold and I’m grateful for my coat and sunglasses in equal measure. I have reserved the day to be a cultural tourist, adventuring to an island in the middle of Sydney. Accompanying me is a retired magician, who happens to be a fascinating conversationalist and an irrepressible artist in his own right. Though I am not overly familiar with this style of performance (hybrid/dance/devised/visual/installation/alternative etc…) I have been put in charge of our adventure to Cockatoo Island. It’s a caffeinated whirlwind. I’m not certain of all the details – but I figure that with all the buzz around the festival, if I get lost/stuck/confused someone will help me.

I am completely uncertain of what I’m doing. Firstly of the ferries – I had a schedule – it flew out the window as soon as I was swayed into a veggie burger lunch with James Waites post Tim Andrew’s Art talk in The Rocks…

And like all good adventures, uncertainty is part of the fun. It’s the extra zesty something that keeps us living, I believe, It keeps us gripped to the seats of our own lives as we wonder “how on earth did I get here, and how is this going to pan out?” I live so much of my week strictly scheduled and tightly wound – sometimes uncertainty creeps in… but mainly it is scheduled. So today – an alternative art consumption philosophy – “Be aware, be prepared and surrender your plan.”

This blog post will be full of names… I’m warning you… this is not because I am deliberately trying to be annoying (that’s a surreptitious motivation) … you’ll see my point at the end…

The aim was to head to the island, but before long I certainly found myself running and frolicking about to catch the 3.10pm ferry from circular quay with Clare Grant… on the ferry there was Pip Smith, TK Pok, Talya Rubin, Larry Heath, Rosie Fisher, Brad Syke… to name a few- media, artists, producers, punters, academics all squashed together on a boat as we dipped into the crannies of the harbour. Balmain. Woolwich. Cockatoo Island.

We escape into a sprawling fan onto the island in direct hunt of our tickets.

Bumping into Nerida Woods.. I even spy Alice Osborne – I don’t say hello – It’s just nice to see her there…

When we arrive the security and festival volunteers including Rowan McDonald are yelling that the island is at capacity and we have to wait. I can’t wait. I’m on a mission to see 100 years of Lizards! We are let in, we head to registration, Julia Lenton publicist extraordinaire has wrist bands at the ready – we are banded like artistic doves and race off to witness art.

100 YEARS OF LIZARDS
Patrick Lenton has a bizarre brain and I love it. Prolific and passionate and wildly imaginative, Lenton’s gift is for winding stories up into a tight ball of yarn and threading through it bizarre and brilliant unexpected figurines and puns that curl up into tendrils of circumlocution. “Scientists, a ranger and an ancient race of Lizards live and love on an island”… if you think of Jurassic Park. Then you stop thinking about Jurassic Park and you start thinking about Margaret Thatcher and what she would look like dancing to the Bee Gees… and then you force some mildly cheesy flashbacks – you get close to what this piece is like. Still in it’s infant stages, but with inventive costumes hand mastered ( or collected, and curated) by Bridget Lutherborrow, 100 YEARS OF LIZARDS was perhaps the most traditional of the performances, drawing on a rich tradition of vaudeville and revue comedy.

then.. bumping into the director of 100 YEARS OF LIZARDS, Scott Selkirk… we were off to have a look at an installation -

XUAN (Spring)
A vietnamese soup kitchen hemmed by a moat of yellow cherry blossom trees and purple decorative cabbage..as people made soup and handed it out to the patient or the stubborn.. a Vietnamese spring flower festival, on an Australian Island in winter… wha? “Wha” indeed. That’s the whole point… the unexpected displacement…

Then racing to -

INFLATE MY HEART WITH 1000 GUSHES OF WIND
OK. I was uncertain with this one. which I think we missed or perhaps I lead us to the wrong place… a large white inflatable art work twisted in the space – video art projected on the wall – I felt small and wanted to touch it.

walking past

SPATIO-TEMPORAL ANORMALIES, SPATIAL DISTORTION & THE PERSISTENCE OF VISION.
Domestic objects frozen on pedestals, re-contextualised with sound and video smashing around them.

A quick hello to Chris Ryan and Clare Britton…

Then in the street I bumped into Jess Bellamy and Chris Summers (playwrights) we babbled and bantered – they recommended a show by Jimmy Dalton. I scheduled it in… but not before a refreshment stop in 124… Little Creature Pale Ale.. more chatting in line (the horrendous queues are wonderful for chatting)…

DATA_SHADOW
In a long room had a large and brightly coloured video art installation. A coloured flickering quad sectioned display of colour – an installation as an ode to digital photography – claiming to be about memory – I think it’s also about mind-clutter. It seemed fun – and too much.

INFLECTION THE BROKEN RECORD
In the opposite room – something was happening. Bits of story pinned to the wall. Written in texta. There’s a narrative i don’t have time to read. Clearly I should have spent more time preparing for this. There are people standing around a mannequin, there’s gaffa tape, black plastic bags, junk. Men in hoods and dark masks – interchangeable. There’s photography happening but I’m uncertain if it is a part of the piece or greedy voyeurism. It’s dark and intense. there is throbbing sounds – electro-static hum. I’m not sure where I’m supposed to stand – or what to do. So I lean up against a wall and watch. It feels as claustrophobic as fight club. A blonde woman half screaming, half singing forces sound out of pain clenched mouth. It’s intense. there are dolphin torches. And then there is an explosive moment in a vase with red liquid. I walk out wishing I had known more before I’d walked in the room. My mind races – what did I just witness? A ritual, a death? Abuse? I’m uncertain.

Leaving there I nod at James Beach, say a quiet hello to Alice Cooper and make my way to see something up and around the hill…

A hike up the hill with Cat Jones, we banter and chatter and share the things we’ve done and seen at the festival – it’s clear I’ve not scheduled very well – somehow I’ve missed Julie Vulcan’s SPOTLIGHT BUNNY – the car’s battery was flat – and anyway, it was for an exclusive audience of 4. So I missed it.

V
There’s a large and grateful preamble by Jeff Stein listing all the contributing artists to this performance. There’s a huge video projection – video art. A being in a large chicken/rabbit suit made of white bin liners – feels like Donny Darko, that is, if Donny Darko’s dad was a chicken. There’s a book with a V on the cover. Chanting. Pulsing, hypnotic – an aria? Latin? pages are torn from the book of V… puffs of smoke hiss out of a sandstone building. It’s beautiful, mesmerizing and spectaular – and to me a comment on doctrine and history – but then again I’m not certain that’s the intention.

by this time the sky is the type of dark navy blue that often is mistaken for black… we walk down the hill… it’s time for beer and a bite to eat… and more art. I wait in line for food and beer say g’day to James Winter… say hello to Emily Morrison and Max Rapley… it’s light conversation until:

AWFUL LITERATURE IS STILL LITERATURE I GUESS
It’s the fun and cool Applespiel folk as they dance a dance of books – as thick, trashy tomes hang above us like the knotted ropes that hang off walls of a boot camp. They dance. They confess. They question. They explain. They’re patient when the drunk old guy starts singing into a microphone unexpectedly. They read erotic sections from trashy novels. They’re cool. I’m not. That’s ok. It’s something I am certain about.

There’s a wolf whistle and there on an inflatable couch is Caleb Lewis and Melissa Mathiesion. Sitting there, Scott Selkirk takes a photo of us sitting on the black inflatable couch – Michal Imielski, Melissa Mathison, Caleb Lewis and me… there’s an interesting chat about the failures of theatre brewing… but it’s time to see more art…

RUN!

SHIMA
And there it is…
A woman in a long white dress moves as the heavy machinery melts and warps behind her… a square of light… she wrestles with her own hypnosis. I’m breathless twice over. I find a seat, I settle down. On the seat. I settle in myself. It’s soothing. To watch her is to feel love for your own ability to see. Two artists from two very different islands – David Kirkpatrick (Australia) and Anna Kuroda (Japan) – create a visual expression about feeling home… sleep, restlessness, ritual, energetic boundlessness. The minute and lyrical detail of her hands -beautiful. The sound washes and hold us. We are alive in this moment as this figure glows and spins and weave… it feels… it feels.. it feels like pre-sleep thinking. She picks a posie of flowers light with LED lights and we watch. Dance and sound perfectly matched and married.

Afterwards congratulating David and Anna, chatting to Howard Matthew (Shopfront’s new co-Artistic Director), Saskia Vromans…

Marveling at the attendance – all the people I saw and spoke with, listened to, was helped or guided by, entertained by, exposed to… what an incredible community. What a breathtaking event… what a festival! What a celebration of art and expression and ideas and love and bravery and silliness and opportunity!

There is a feeling of uncertainty still washing over me… had my strategy been silly? What was it I just experienced? What did I think? What did I feel? What did I like? What does it mean? What is it for? Why do we do this, we humans? Who stand around standing and talking and pretending and making?

You know, I’m not completely certain about that either.

But there is one thing I am certain of – regardless of the reasons for and against, and the lines of enquiry, we (the arts community – punters and makers alike) are bound to each other through common experience of exaltation, joy, visual delight and also uncertainty.

And that is one of the most beautiful things I have come to realise.

No matter how tenuous and uncertain, life, art, career, love, friendship, stability is – art happens. And you’ll deal with it.

In December last year, I had the privilege and delight of hearing form some young artists applying for an Artslab residency, their dreams and visions of their art. It is one of those deeply awe-inspiring positions that I have found myself in, reading, responding and investigating an artists work, before it has even begun to materialise.

Its a terrifying prospect for most – talking confidently and clearly about hypothetical art.

And for me, an exhilarating experience to listen to artists as they attempt to articulate their practice. And it’s tough. Because sometimes applicants say what they think you want to hear. And sometimes a well placed “I don’t know” means much more than an ill-placed “I am certain of this…”

The Artslab Residency is a 6 month residency for emerging artists (under 25 years of age) to explore an idea for a show. For me it is one of the things that Shopfront does best – asks artists to think about what they want to do/say/discover/experiment with… and then facilitate them on that journey. This is, as far as I’m concerned the best way to develop artists. Whilst many courses may facilitate skill-based training, and some residencies leave artists completely alone (to perhaps descend into perhaps disappearing into themselves), Shopfront is artist lead and guides curiosity and pushes artists to risk more, think more, say more.

This showing is a midway point for the artists – an opportunity to air ideas or fragments – set deadlines, engage with audiences, ask questions and have questions asked of them. At the end of the year (and residency) there will be a showing of the final(ish) works. This midway point is traditionally rough, ready and may unlock, uncover a new direction or reassure and affirm the artistic enquiry of the artist. What ever it is – the showing is a great opportunity to air ideas.

I won’t linger too much on my response to the work – as I think I said all I needed to say to the artists – but I will give a small summary of the enquiry.

Lucy Watson – Paper Moons
A window, the moon, light, letters, pinatas, pianos, masks, a puppet, a persona. Watson’s enquiry centres around the idea that our experience of the world fluctuates between creation and destruction and attempts to examine the affect stories (and modes of storytelling) have on us. There is a huge pattern of thinking behind Watson’s work – and she draws on centuries of stagecraft and style in an attempt to attract us to the idea of failure, guilt and destruction. At times naive, at times curious – the narrative of WHAT was being said seemed less important than the HOW of it being explored. Big ideas. Lots of ideas. Lots of beginnings. Lots of concepts and images…

Bernice Ong -Takers
We, the audience is herded into a waiting room. A woman enters, eats some chips. There’s a TV on. Some magazines on a table.
Live performance. Digital recordings. Recorded sound, live sound. Audience. Performer. Expectation, satisfaction. We have permission to watch yet something feels dangerous. it’s us. It’s our fear of confrontation. We are waiting for something – and are we ready for it when it comes?

Rachel Roberts – This is a Birthday Project
Sneaky through the window peering into a world of lanterns and birthday cards and garlands of multicoloured fun – Roberts is beautiful in her dress. Its a party. She vomits something out the window. Only some are invited in. There’s an awkward moment. Blank faced we are told to leave. the presents are left unwrapped. What is social horror? What is social expectation of when manners dissolve due to the hideous, awful truth that birthday parties just aren’t that much fun.

Rachel Weiner – Movement (Flesh/Body x Surface x Texture) + Light + Sound = Untitled Rred
Flesh in space, hard surfaces. Red shoes and a length of carpet. There is something formal and regal in Weiner as her body folds and arcs under light. There is something very scientific about this piece – the mathematical equation of what art/movement/spectacle could be. The result is strangely cold and formal. We are after all, up close and personal with a dancer (usually held aloft on stages in tu-tus) and now we are watching with critical cold eye. I yearn to find the heat or warmth in her.

Erica Brennan -Dythirambic
A mythical woman listens to water in search of a story. Soon she is joined by a tiny, jolly mushroom… trapped and frightened by the audience – her privacy is shattered and before too long an escape is futile. Instead she confesses love or an intensity towards a lover (in the form of a larger mushroom) that seems like love. It feels brave and confessional and classical – but more than that, it seems real. And seeming real is sometimes more potent than reality itself.

Grant Moxom – [THIS SPACE HAS BEEN LEFT INTENTIONALLY BLANK]
Turning on the audience. Moxom turns on us. Turns us on. He turns on us by asking us to be the performer. some are given headsets. The headsets are turned on. (Thank you.) Moxom is a master puppeteer of flesh and mind as he makes direct request for action – the rest of the audience watches. I find myself kissing a stranger. jogging on teh spot. Drawing lines in chalk. Wearing a leather jacket. Trying to find my lover. I’m watching my fellow performers “will I do that soon?” I ask. Moxom instructs me. I willingly surrender. He thanks me. Examing permission and collision and emotion – actions are driving the performers. The audience making meaning when they can, if they want to . Are we free agents? What is the value of free will? Is there anything but synchronicity?

All interesting. All different. All unique. All fascinating. All in different stages of development of the ideas, images, questions…

The important thing to remember in the creation of a work – is that there is often no-end to the creative process (a horrible realization when dealing with a transient art form) – and the audience defines a performance as a performance. The artists are now probably trying not to think about their work- next up they are involved in the creation of Machine Atlas (Shopfront’s major project) and will revisit and refine their ideas when they are creatively topped up.

And I can’t wait to see more.

More about the ARTSLAB program can be found here.

Producers Authors Composers Talent. PACT. A space which has been crammed full of names/projects/ideas in Sydney’s alternative theatre landscape, rich with history. I remember meeting Patrick Milligan (Spike’s brother) at the PACT 40th celebrations some years ago (I had written something for a troupe of “ordinaries” that ended in them busting out with glitter and enthusiasm into a dance number to Petula Clarke’s “I know a Place”… anyway… ) and learning about the early days of PACT when it was in Pitt Street in a squat, effectively. It had been set up by a bunch of alternative theatre makers and over the years has developed into the current “Centre for Emerging Artists” – NOT a youth theatre.

In the past year or so, PACT has had a change of guard. Previously, and for quite some time Regina Heilmann and Chris Murphy had been joint artistic directors, and in a brave an bold move Cat Jones (some may know as a writer, producer, curator with an interest in live interactive art and performance works – I know her through Electrofringe, TINA) has taken the reigns. Under Cat Jones the direction and identity of PACT has been reinvigorated. A fresh coat of coffee’n'cream coloured paint, new signage a clean up of the space, a new website it all represents a new positioning for the organisation – and it isn’t merely superficial – it reaches into the structure of the organisation, the board. In the context of spaces that are branded as “Centres for emerging artists” – ATYP and Shopfront are two examples. PACT is now moving into territory which may have previously been regarded as the turf of The Performance Space – facilitating artists as a space for hire (something a little trickier in the grandeur of Carriageworks). Acknowledging perhaps, that to emerge in Australia as an artist can take 10 years, PACT’s ensemble comprises of 18-30 year olds who have sought out creative and professional development.

PACT’s ensemble is an important part of training and development for artists, in fact I would claim that very rarely does an artist have the opportunity to dive into the world of ensemble. Training institutions are often forced ensembles where it is understood that at any moment your colleagues may be discarded and ultimately you will be competing for attention and agents on agents day. Shopfront’s ARTSLAB programme is vivacious example of how supporting individuals may subsequently result in a collegiate atmosphere – which is also invaluable. And PACT’s programme offers a great compliment to that idea. Training, discovering, uncovering and creating with a group of artists regularly over a period is a wonderful thing… and it is a great thing that BBM Ltd is supporting this program. (You never know who could be emerging out of imPACT the next Tk Pok, Shagging Julie, Ash Dyer, Jenny Leong (one time Greens candidate for Grayndler), Annette Madden or even Augusta Supple. It’s a great program.

Unsettlings is the latest PACT show featuring the work of the ensemble Alice Cooper, Noni Cowan, Sam Duncan, Wilna Fourie, Jonathan Gurton, Mayu Iwasaki, Grant Moxom, Lisa Mumford, Sean Serpa, Amelia Wallin, Lucy Watson, Maria White. When I arrive at the space, I am given a business cards with the photo of one of the performers. On the opposite side of the card are statements/quotes made by the artists one assumes. In the foyer, as we mill like cattle hoping to be fed – we are aware that we are also milling with the performers. Not in an actorly “I’m performing at you, near you, without you” way – but as humans saying hello – not assuming an obvious role – but this is unexpected -and you should always expect the unexpected at PACT.

The divide between the performers and audience and usual pre-foyer behaviour is redefined. I am chatting to Grant Moxom (one of the performers I know in the show) and talking about how strange it feels to have a post show chat and hug, pre-show. I meet some of the other performers who are in sparkly clothes and red lipstick. We slowly leak into the space at some invisible transitional stage. In the space, we are welcomed by performers who have clipboards and smiles. Before too long, they properly introduce themselves – explaining that the quotes on the cards we received may have given a false impression of who they were. Before long -it is the audiences’ turn to reveal who we are – a chalk line dives the space and audience. As each side of the chalk line is defined we must choose which we identify with – cat person or dog person; MAC or PC; earthquake/blackhole; heterosexual/gay; matrix/inception; good judge of character/bad judge of character; missionary/doggy style; action movie/rom com; etc. After a vigorating leaping about for about 20 minutes it was clear it wasn’t as easy as one may think – especially when asked to quickly decide.

Before long I was safely seated – unsettled – but seated.

The second half of the show was a series of vignettes, images and direct address on the ideas of representation, history, identity, imagination and ancestry, Physical duets and tandem acts of theatre. Strangely no “ensemble” pieces as such – it felt more like a collective of pieces, curated and presented. As I had mentioned previously, you learn very quickly that you can’t really expect anything but the unexpected – and the unexpected this time in the piece was the lack of nudity and fruit abuse (many a watermelon has been dramatically smashed in the space). It was a far more meditative presentation. If you are expecting a puppy, you might be disappointed that you are presented with a goldfish. And I do not mean that in a pejorative way – it is an indication of the tone or the mood. This is the first sample of directing I have seen of Cat Jones – so I have nothing to compare nor to draw from – so I encounter the work on it’s terms… a series of vignettes which seem to establish and disintegrate expectation.

Sometimes emerging artists feel an urgency, a frustration to say and shock and move and confront in violent and aggressive ways – this show resists that tendency. It is slow and measured and at times very quite and very languid and some sections are drawn to uncomfortable lengths. repetitive. Very repetitive – and in watching the repetition you see the flaws (or the innovation) or the progressions (or the regressions.) And that is largely the point. If you expect something, if you assume something – you may be disappointed… and in this case, unsettled.

This piece, like that of PACT’s changing identity in Sydney’s emerging arts landscape is shifting, and for some that is unsettling and for others a welcome change.

It’s been a week since week 2 of Stories from the 428 closed- and I thought it would be nice/handy or interesting to write a little reflection on Week 2- and perhaps on the whole reflection of the project. I am in the process of de-briefing with all the directors about the project (and the process) – and this is always an important part of everything I do- it helps steer my projects, my design, my plan and focuses my passion for new work.

There couldn’t have been a more different experience for the bump in/tech of Week 2’s show. 5 directors completely prepared- wrangling blocking of a cast of 34- and 18 pieces overall. A bigger week- epic in cast and ambition. I can’t say I wasn’t a littel nervous about how this would appear. Double the cast of Week 1 (how DID that happen?) and more works. Where as Week 1 was more introspective (and contained more watery/rain references- yes the bus trips were taken in the rain)- Week 2 was a kaliedoscope of ensembles tumbling out like a morris minor filled with clowns. Two of the writers Lenton and Marlow especially responsible for the more sketch comedy style plays- fun/funny and very entertaining- a very different texture to the literary texts of Freidman and Janaczewska- or the stylistic adventurousness of Corin and Abela… or even the poetic of Erskine and Edgerton. Week 2 fulfilled the design of the project in a much more whollistic way- all writers travelled on the same bus at the same time together (this didn’t quite happen in Week 1) and the directors worked collegiately sharing actors and resources. So in the lead up- this process was working- perhaps the festival feel of the pieces helped this along? I don’t know- but the feel was very different. Not better. But different.

Tech happened. It was fun. Directors ready, clear and excited and ready to solve their own and each others challenges. And I must say that having 5 stagemanager types in the room (one actual, 3 directors who are ex stage managers and a Production manager who is a stage manager by trade) was wonderful and made everything easy.

Dress run with the actors was easy. A little weird having 34 actors to contend with- but wonderful none the less! I was scared I would look greedy or disorganised having that many actors on stage- that I was being indulgent or sloppy… and there were some decisions that needed to be made and I made them (like not having full cast on stage at all times). But it went brilliantly- actors stepped up- directors stepped up- and it was smooth and without a hitch.

Two tragedies happened that week, however. One: A director had suffered a personal loss- and had two funerals to attend in one day (wednesday) and as I had hoped- anything she needed the other directors pitched in and supplied. Two: after the dress rehearsal one night one actor (one of my favourite all time actors I have worked with) Mary Sherman, was in a motorbike accident and was rushed to the emergency department of the hospital. The director of the pieces rang me as soon as he heard and we went straight into solution solving- within 2 hours Mary’s role was recast into 4 actors who were in the cast- Cheryl Ward, Mark Dessaix, Matt Charleston, Lib Campbell came to the rescue… I went to the emergency room with a bag of snacks and foods and some of my favourite Little Golden Books to see my beloved Mary. She is recovering well and I have promised to work with her again when she is better- she is a marvellous and beautiful actor and a sublimely genuine and interesting person- the show was very different without her- but talent like her’s can’t and wont be kept down and I can’t wait to see her return to performing once she has had a full recovery.

Opening night glistened. Adrenilin/panic is an amazing thing- the evening was a rollicking adventure of a fountain of energy and fun and set up the week as one where we were turning people away at the door most nights… which was especially relieving as it was a long weekend AND daylight saving changed the times too! I couldn’t be more proud.

Of course the main thing about the 428 Project was the idea of a colleagiate team- a team who worked together to conquer an amazingly ambitious and multifacetted project which was about the community of commuters and artists who live in the area. The idea was about promoting bus travel- celebrating the good bad and the ugly of commuting. Recognising that Australian writers are up for a challenge and willing to work- and WORK HARD… that actors are brave enough to take a punt on a concept and on new work. That directors CAN work together… and really at the end of the project, the tail to this comet continues to streak across my heart.

Remarkably- it was the team who was spectacular- PJ Gahan- ever calm, clear and efficient (a multi tool triumvirate of Production Manager/Stage Manager/ technical Manager), Miles Thomas (Lighting designer), Alison Murphy -Oates (Stage Manager/mother/ friend/ Seamstress/ list maker/ legend), Gavin Roach (Sponsorship Coordinator/comic relief/ caterer/ friend), Julia Lenton (publicist/ marketing manager/ foyer decorator/ confidant/ door bitch/ list keeper/ venue liaison), Gemma Lark Johnson (Designer/ sign writer. prop maker/ costume maker), Karolina Novak (Artist/ graphic Design/ print manager), Jeremy Silver (composer/sound designer/ sound compiler/ APRA advisor) Rosie Chase (composer/ singing teacher/ musician/ counsellor), Grant Moxom (webdesign/cheerleader).

EVERYONE involved went above and beyond- and all I can say is that I am humbled by the energy, the passion, the professsionalism, the commitment, the humour, the community of artists which defied gravity and expectations and made Stories from the 428 what it was. And it is impossible to do anything but remember never to underestimate artists and their ingenuity, their drive, passion and focus- and I am honoured to keep such company.

Thank you to all who came along to support the show… and All the artists and crew on board (whether it was for three months or for one month) – Theatre is what you make it.

Theatre- an artform inheritantly voyeuristic – relying on witnesses in order to exist- is a perfect place in which ideas about surveillance, presence and what it means to be watched can be pulled apart, examined and reconnstructed.

Since the rise of paranoia from governements across the world- and the heightening of security (or perhaps the need of “a sense of”) in streets, on buses, in lifts- the Orwellian Big Brother emerges. What appeared to be a futuristic fantasy is now not only present- but a vehicle for the rise of the “reality TV” celebrity. We are a generation who is constantly under watch- we encourage others to watch us through our facebook status- there is a flattery about being on screens – watching us walk through train gates… we are a curious animal- curious about ourselves in the wider context of the world and perhaps now more than ever as camera surveliance multiplies, and implies the danger which is other people.

The DeConverters lead by fearless Jane Grimley, is a group of performers including Grant Moxom, Amy Wanless, Jaya Sound, Sam Duncan and Sacha Harrison and media artists- Daniel Brown, Sacha Cohen and Ben Storey who have spent months collaborating, workshoping and devising The Witness in The Wall.
This is the first prouction by the DeConverters who have chosen to launch their tour of this piece at Newtown Theatre. For those who remember Newtown Theatre as “The Edge”- home of Kinetic Energy Theatre company for some time- this style of work is not an unusual fit for this space- but for those more familiar with Newtown Theatre as the home of Short and Sweet it may be a surprise for you to attend this style of performance in this venue.

Weaving audio visual materials, live sound (a very evocative harmonica), text (spoken and projected) , Witness in the Wall is a series of vignettes which seek to explore what it means to be watched. This is not the type of performance in which there is a linear narrative- but a collage of ideas and sentiments and moments wherein te performers move through a sequence of mundane and then extraordinary moments- performance as a living gallery of ideas and actions. Playing with the connection between audience and performer- a small segment of direct address is largely terrifying for audiences who enjoy being in the sweetness of the darkness of the audience seating.

Though I must declare that I appreciated many moments of The Witness in The Wall, especially the opening video projection which felt largely like star gazing, the major ideas that came across to me, was not necessarilly the effect of surveillance- but the disconnect people feel in a society where in we are busy watching each other. Through watching we can feel lonely, disconnected, removed from each other… through watching we are alone.

This is a really unique and interesting piece of performance- and depending on where you are in your own headspace- it will reach you in someway, somewhere about what it means to be present and particpating in a world where we are constantly looking out in order to understand what is within.

More Info:
http://www.thedeconverters.com/witness/company.html
Contact :thewitnessinthewall@gmail.com
$10-$20 Rock on up Tuesday-Saturday until September 26th
Book Here http://newtowntheatre.com.au/