As offices empty and sunscreen sales soar – the festive summer season has arrived with a seemingly endless carousel of parties and social engagements. Now the theatre’s have closed – there are a few of the industry who have a list of 2011 projects lined up… and the rest of us face family Christmas lunch/dinner gently quizzed by family “so how is your drama stuff going?” and “have you thought about an apprenticeship?” and other such brutal questions asked by well-meaning members of your gene pool.

Normal folk – the ones with contented lives filled with relaxing weekends, 9-5 work hours, paid holidays, a structured career path and regular pay cheques – look forward to the end of the year as a time of snooze and booze and lavish materialistic rewards for their year of hard work. For theatre folk it’s a little different.

The two week gap whilst Sydney prepares itself for the Sydney Festival is a time of reflection as it is for others but it is also a time for administration. “To do” lists for artists may involve getting new headshots, tightening up one’s bio, getting a new agent, landing a major gig, invoicing for that last job… Those who think being an artist is a lifestyle of excessive leisure time, relaxation and being paid a huge amount just to sit and think – rarely last more than a year in the business. This industry is not a get-rich-and- famous-quick scheme. In fact as a teenager, I remember reading an article talking about Geoffrey Rush’s “25 year preparation for an overnight success” – a slice of that idea can be seen here: http://www.urbancinefile.com.au/home/view.asp?a=8189&s=Features. It is this time of year which asks us to reflect and evaluate for ourselves (informally) – and to also write acquittals (formally) to those who have granted us money.

In my career, though I have been employed by companies that have received grants for specific projects (The City of Sydney has supported Off the Shelf and Brand Spanking New in 2008 and 2009) – the only grant I have ever received as an individual was for Stories from the 428. I received $4000 from Marrickville Council – which covered the insurance, the “comp ticket allocation” for the Marrickville Council offices, the set design and materials and rehearsal space. The other $14,000 that went into the project came from my personal savings. That project in its first incantation harnessed the talent of nearly 100 artists – and provided entertainment for 1400 punters in 10 nights. I will now spend a good three days writing an acquittal for the Council to prove that the project was completed and money was spent accordingly. It’s times like this I envy actors.

There’s a lot of paper involved. There’s a lot of writing, spreadsheets… and it is due on the 31st December.

As the year winds up – aquittals are due and the news filters out of all those who are heading off to Drama schools. And I think about the luxury of study – how wonderful it would be to be housed in an institution for a year or three, just to focus on theatre. The people who are not heading to Drama school prepare for another year of production – grant writing, residency writing, fundraising, acquittals, contact lists, names, numbers, project descriptions. And if you have had a big year of production, if you have had a big year of making art/theatre – the thought of leaping into that mode of writing, pitching, presenting etc is enough to make you run into a school – or an arts admin job or prison.

It’s funny, schools don’t seem to prepare students for a life of unemployment – they prepare them for employment. Which is all very well and good when you are working – but, how do you deal with the feast or famine of this industry? How do you live a good and moderate life – without feeling seasick from the swing between elation/stress of work and the aching paranoia/fear that you may never do/make anything ever again? It appears that schools are a resting place – not a preparatory place for artists.

One thing that has often worried me is the well-known conversation about people who enter drama schools whilst being in a relationship. The Schools I have heard f warning or penalising those students or potential-students warning them that their relationship wont last. This is something I don’t believe is necessary. It gives the impression that all theatre makers have to be available – all the time. That you can’t maintain a healthy relationship and be in the arts. This is not true. This is rubbish, in fact. I think it is perpetuated by a certain generation. It has been one thing I have struggled with reconciling – as I had bought into that myth that I had to choose between a life in the theatre and a life with a partner. It’s rubbish. You can have both. Both takes work. Both takes time and attention. And I believe both inform each other. Many times in my relationship I have looked to the lessons and guidance of great plays to help me solve and inform my dilemmas. In particular plays (eg Airsick, The Return, The Bermuda Love Triangle, Black and White, it was raining all afternoon) I direct often speak of where I am at personally. I choose them because I am trying to sort out, discover or say something about a relationship. I worry that certain schools prepare our future dramatists by teaching them in a vacuum of emotional/relationship connection. What is theatre but the study of interpersonal relationship? From the subject matter to the collaborative nature of the artform – it’s all about the interpersonal. As I have said for many years – I am in the business of other people.

This year I have provided 31 opportunities for directors, 41 opportunities for writers, sat on two lots of Shopfront’s Artslab panels for emerging artists (providing 12 residencies),programmed 12 shows for the Fringe festival, sat on a board (which included recruiting an Artistic Director and being involved in strategic planning for the company), attended 118 plays, written 55 reviews and 2 children’s plays- all whilst maintaining a day job and my relationship with my partner, known to many as “the botanist”.

For me, there is one thing for certain: If there is one thing my botanist has taught me it is the importance of fallow ground. I believe in artists having a break – and a real break – time to think and digest and dream and develop their thinking. I am going to do as I say next year – and do less. I’m not saying I won’t be working on something – I will be – I just am not sure what that is at this stage. I hope I’ll get approached to direct a fabulous new Australian play… or two. But I’m going to have some fallow time to plan and dream. First, I’ll finish this paper work for Marrickville Council… and this play that I am writing… have a cup of tea…

AND send a huge hug, big kiss out to the people who have made a huge impact on me this year – those that have bought me coffee and written beautiful plays- the reviewers who have held my ego so gently, the actors who have broken and made my heart sing… the people who have abused me or been nasty, those who have attended, directed, designed, applauded, cheered, read, given feedback, told me jokes those that are brave enough to make work – and share themselves… all of you. Our community. How honoured I am to keep the company I keep…

James, Me, Maggie, Tim

BSN Week 2

Week 1 Stories from the 428

The Beautiful Lucy Goleby

Rosie Chase and Miles Thomas

Stephen Peacocke in Stories from the 428

Me and TK Pok

Blueprint at Fraser Studios (with my boss James Winter in front)

Luke Carson, Helen Tonkin, Deborah Thomsen - Off the Shelf

Ian Zammit and Jane Eakin - my directing buddies

Selkirk and Magi - 428 induction

Alli, Phil, Scarlet - OTSers

Hanging with some playwrights - Noelle Janaczewska, Tahli Corin, Donna Abela, Matt Edgerton, Jasper Marlow, Patrick Lenton, Lexi Freiman, Jo Pretorius

Leah McGirr - the face behind all my photos and a truly great friend

Me and The Botanist