Good afternoon. Welcome. I’m Ms Augusta Supple and I am a graduate of the University of Sydney’s Performance Studies department.

All those years ago I was immersed in a department whose focus was/is viewing performance (please note the word “performance” – as opposed to the word “theatre”) from an ethnographic point of view. I very casually involved myself with the identity of the “academic ethnographer” as I saw myself (or had aspirations of being…at least in my involvement in SUDS) as a practitioner sitting inside the goldfish bowl of academia. I thought if I was outside ethnography – I was inside practice (and no, it doesn’t work like that – if you are outside academia, it doesn’t automatically thrust you into the realm of practice.) It has taken me many years of struggle to recognise that my unique position in the theatre community (no, Ms Croggan, I assure you, I won’t use the word “industry”) is that of practitioner who feels like an outsider in my own field part practitioner part ethographer in my slashy identity as a theatre documentarian (read “blogger” – yes an ugly word, Mr Waites) /producer/new Australian play activist/artistic director/writer/commentator. Read more

I sit on a board. As opposed to sitting, bored. They are different things. I don’t know why or how – I doubt it’s genetic – but I love meetings. I love strategy. And I love supporting emerging artists. So it makes perfect sense that I should sit on the Board of Shopfront Contemporary Arts Centre. Read more

I braced myself for the blinding white north- snow and fur trimmed hoodies. Actors huffing into their hands and rubbing them to keep them warm… Something overly patriotic from the US perhaps?

No.

Instead, the debut play from a young writer DC Moore whose first production stood on it’s feet Upstairs at the Royal Court Theatre in London in 2007. On the opposite side of the world, three years later, ATYP’s Under the Wharf season in conjunction with Raw Hide, houses an intelligent and taut production, crafted by the eye and ear of director Janice Muller. Read more

Fresh out of Drama school, fresh in Sydney. Bright eyed and bushy tailed- four directors (Fiona Hallenan-Barker, Justine Campbell, Marcel Dorney and Travis Green) embark on a Directing Collaborative, pool resources and vision for the challenge of producing Howard Barker’s The Possibilities at the freshly revived Sidetrack Theatre. Read more

Debbie Tucker Green’s Dirty Butterfly is no easy night in the theatre. But then again, not all theatre is written to be easy. At the heart of so many stories are cautionary tales- unimaginable feats of bravery (or stupidity)- often parables wherein instinct (lust, desire) overwhelms logic and duty to disasterous ends. Launguage – sharp. Direct. Poetic. A rhythm that hypnotises through repetition- like a needle stuck skipping over the same black grooves in the vinyl. It feels scratched. The language- the delivery. Is Scratched. Scratchy. Sentences are clipped- but not neatly. Like a pen franticly scratching it’s ink-blood on the back of an opened envelope. It sounds like. Like? It sounds like. The play sounds like rapid fire gunshots. Read more

It’s not easy taking a punt on a new play, and the scariest punt imaginable is the play which is absolutely positively new and from an absolutely positively new writer. In this case the sleight of hand is interesting: and the context is interesting. The Griffin Theatre Company and Sydney Theatre Company have joined forces to produce Anthony Weigh’s new play “Like a Fishbone.” Read more

And so it continues… The Sydney Theatre Company’s crusade into International reputation with Eugene O’Neill’s Long Day’s Journey Into Night.

Sitting between Blanchette’s Streetcar, and the Upcoming productions of Steppenwolf’s Production of Lett’s August: Osage County… and Thorton Wilder’s Our Town… AND Philip Seymour Hoffman’s production of Sam Shepard’s True West… we now have the great William Hurt opposite our great Robyn Nevin in Eugene O’Neill’s Pulitzer Prize winning play.

It’s a very “International” season, isn’t it? Look at the new play from China! Look at the award winning theatre company from Israel… and Turkey! And see- the inclusion of the greatest Mexican playwright! International. No… it is! Don’t you get it? “International” is the new word for “American.” The cultural empire envelopes our language- we are unable to call things what they are. Our voices corrupted. Our great plays relegated to an occasional airing or the HSC compulsory reading lists- or relegated to independent theatres without money, without visibility.

It breaks my heart. Read more

This is the first play I have seen that is a part of B-sharp this year.

This is the first (and only) New Australian work included in the B-sharp’s first half of 2010 season. It has taken 4 years to write- and was commissioned after Jonathan Gavin won the Philip Parson’s award for Moment on the Lips- which enjoyed much acclaim at Darlinghurst Theatre. I have deep admiration for Jonathan Gavin’s writing- those who saw Tiger Country at Griffin know the power and terror of Gavin’s realism. They know his slick wit and his big heart. They know him for his structural perfectionism- his dialogue… I will now declare my hand: I know Jonathan Gavin somewhat- I know him as sweet and aloof, charming and calm- I have worked with him in 2 different incantations in the last 7 years- I am facebook friends with him- but not “share recipes/ call in times of crisis” type friends. I have long admired his writing. Having said this, I had no idea what to expect of Bang…

Every so often a play comes along and knocks you sideways. Takes your breath away and you are left winded by the feeling that your heart just grew too big too fast. You are silent because you are frightened and in awe. You have been transported and your mind reconfigured. It happened for me with Andrew Bovell’s “When the Rain Stops Falling” and it has happened again with Jonathan Gavin’s “Bang.” Read more

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. Read more

The promotional poster for Henry Rollins’ Frequent Flyer tour says “Knowledge without mileage equals bullsh*t” and has Rollins depicted as a screaming torpedo- speeding across the city skyline. It’s a great poster- and reflects the show beautifully.

Before now, I had not ever encountered his work- not in any conscious way- I just spend a huge amount of my waking hours seeking out new experiences- recently I have embraced visual art as my new obsession- and have been consuming history and theory of art in vast binging quantities, insatiably slurping it up with an unquenchable desire to know, see, understand, experience more… Mostly I spend my time reading new plays- I read everything I am emailed by playwrights… and other things too- scientific papers, the back of cereal boxes, letters to the editor, shopping lists left on trains- anything… and before now, I had heard of, but not seen Rollins- I had heard of but not seen his band/s- ignorant. Utterly ignorant of what I was missing. Read more