I’ve always felt that being a theatre director is one of the loneliest jobs you could ever have…. that and a lighthouse keeper… there is a perceived social-ness about directing- you talk to people all the time- to crew, producers, actors, writers… and if you are smart you listen in equal measure (if not more) than you speak. But essentially you are alone in your responsibility and facilitation of the people you have collected around you… you are not CREW you are not CAST… you are “other”. And your touch should be invisible and elegant- staying true to the story. And at the end of each project I am stunningly in awe of the people I have worked with for their brilliant generosity and bravery.

There is another job which is also fairly lonely- the job of the reviewer or critic… having one sided conversations with a piece of paper (or screen). And sometimes the conversations in foyers or cafes with colleagues (reviewers, practitioners etc) are again one sided- they didn’t see the show- they don’t want to wrestle in public, cup in hand. And I am both…
I have always struggled with my identity as a theatre person- other than to say I am a theatre person- a person who spends time in dark caves- watching people talk- and thinking about what it means in the grander scheme of Australian culture- to audiences- to non-theatre practitioners- what is the universality beyond the industry that is relevent to here and now. And I get tangled up in questions- that sometimes I explore in my reviews when I can’t explicitly articulate my dissatisfaction with something. And I am one of the few floating about who have not been to the Institute- why? Well you can ask them. But I can give you my reason- I don’t think you can be taught how to be imaginative, innovative or creative- I don’t think there is a recipe for “how to be an artist” … and the biggest thing I have learnt to be true is that schools give an entitlement to their attendees- a false feeling of acceptance that is external- perhaps even a legitimisation”to say “I am an ACTOR!” or “I am a WRITER”… but really the most important thing is to give yourself permission to be curious, fascinated and obsessed with ideas. For that is what I think art is – an insatiable expression of ideas- a long winding conversation without end and at the heart a beautiful, unsolvable problem- the human condition. So I am unable to label myself as one thing- I am not just a director or writer or reviewer or board member or programmer or dramaturg- perhaps as one colleague suggested last night that I am a “facilitator”- which is true- I facilitate the talent of everyone who I work with… but whatever I am or my role is- I am completely committed to theatre- to ideas.

Last night I went to the book launch of A Raffish Experiment: Collected Writings of Rex Cramphorn edited by Ian Maxwell – one of my professors when I was experiencing the trauma of my late teens at University (I started University at 17 and finished my honours year a furrow- browed newly-turned 21 year old). So Rex Cramphorn to me was a cork-floored studio I sat cross-legged in impatiently scribbling. But he was a man- and amongst the room of the baby boomer luminaries I chatted to last night – one who meant a great deal to their practice and their development as artists…. too many in that room to name but crammed in the book lined walls of Gleebooks – David Malouf, John McCallum, Maggie Blinco, Kim Spinks, Robyn Nevin, Nicholas Hammond, Louis Nowra, Patrick Nolan, Tim Fitzpatrick, Russell Emmerson, Eamon D’Arcy, James Waites- those who knew and worked with and clearly admire Rex Cramphorn for his love of theatre, life, beauty and french culture. It was a truly inspiring opening address by Louis Nowra- and a touching call-to-literature from Ian Maxwell… who has edited the book… a copy which is now stacked on my bedside table ontop of Stella Adler’s tattered handbook leant to me by a handsome bright-eyed actor, which sits ontop of one of my impulse purchases Edward Albee’s “Stretching my Mind” , which sits ontop of a book on social networking called “Connected”, ontop of a book given to me by Kerry Walker for my 21st birthday “Patrick White Speaks”…
Rex Cramphorn’s writings range from reviews to diary entries to manifestos- and Maxwell has taken time to find amongst the 30-something archive boxes the reflections of a practitioner in progress. In Maxwell’s introduction he sights Jim Sharman as the inspiration:

“Theatre practitioners are like a lost tribe with only an oral tradition handed down erratically from person to person, usually as gossip. Without access to history, the growth of our theatre is inhibited. For while an absence of tradition can be liberating, it can also be wasteful as each generation earnestly sets about re-inventing the wheel (1996)”

Now, I think some re-invention of the wheel is very necessary- as it humbles one to realise that this artform is much bigger, takes longer and is considerably harder to progress than the naieve ramblings of a 20 year old sitting cross legged on a cork floor in a University… and the act of discovering , for yourself, that tradition is important and legacy is essential in – is deeply empowering. And I only knew I was re-inventing the wheel when I stopped straining- looked around and listened.

I have the great fortune of having this hap-hazard history told to me in slithers in foyers, at spontaneous dinners, in email by people I admire- and I don’t know how I became so lucky to be in this situation… but here I am – a recepticle of rumour, history and context.

This book is a gift from the generation who was the new wave- with mid-wife Maxwell bridging the gap- to us the theatre makers of now. A maginificent gift- a reassurance that failure is beautiful and essential- that theatre is important- that the pursuit of art is worthy and fun. That great things come out of small sufferings. (Reassurance to me that I CAN be both practitioner and reviewer). And that despite the inherent and beautiful transient tradition of theatre- there are some written points of reference for us to cling to- Artaud, Brecht, Sontag, Adler, Mamet, Cramphorn.

Thank you to the Centre of Performance Studies at the University of Sydney for believing in the relationship between practitioner and theory- which has largely shaped my thinking about theatre- and I am sure countless others who have benefitted from the teachings of Gay McAuley, Ian Maxwell, Tim Fitzpatrick and Paul Dwyer (to name a few).

Thank you Currency Press- for being as fearless as Cramphorn in publishing a book which essentially reassures that the invention of the wheel is not necessary… and that significant work can come out of serial “failure.”

http://www.currency.com.au//product_detail.aspx?productid=1833&ReturnUrl=/titles-coming-soon.aspx