In the crowded Drama theatre at the Sydney Opera House, you can see the bright shiny faces of the Sydney intelligentsia and arts crowd (and me) – chatting – gently assured of all that is known and assumed – we are a tolerant open-minded, culturally sensitive bunch – we are aware of the impact of intolerance in a society. We know where we stand on issues of racial and religious intolerance. Read more

I have always thought of theatre as an extreme sport – it asks you to push yourself to the absolute limit of your creativity, resourcefulness – it asks you to be sleep deprived, and physically and emotionally exhausted because it is limited by time, space and presence. The transience of it raises the stakes – and the lead up takes a million times longer than the event itself… it is perhaps this fact that makes the role of the playwright so essential.

If you don’t get the content right, try as you might, the experience can be devastating – for the actors and the audience. The play is the thing. Read more

I observe the human in the corner. I watch as his face lit by a laptop, uncovered the detail of a thinking face. He is curled towards his keyboard and a series of light switches on dimmers… a network of cables stream from a table, connected to lights arcing up as baby birds do, mouths screaming out white light. His furrowed gaze focused on the throbbing sound. Occasionally punctuating the voice of an actor with flippant flashes from his camera. Read more

Currently the most talked about production in industry circles- Sydney Theatre Company’s production Of Blood Wedding by Federico Garcia Lorca translated by Iain Sinclair. Read more

In the gentle yellow light, a man assists a woman into a single bed. He sits in a chair, besides the bed. He waits. There is silence. The lights dim.

When the lights rise, they speak. Read more

The world looks different pre-breakfast. Up in the air. Unsettled. Like all the dreams, all the ideas of the world have been shaken up in the snow globe of your head and before breakfast, the pages of thought are still in flight… and before breakfast there is the anticipation of what the day will settle. Read more

On a cold Sunday night, rugged up and ready, I turned the collar of my coat up and find my way to Old 505 Theatre. Read more

“Mary Street. It is dawn. The dawn light is a sort of thin violet colour, similar to evening, but with the feeling of it rising.
The street is still and quiet, not quite woken up yet.”

We sit in silence as the world of Lally’s Katz’s play is wheeled out before us… garbage bins on wheels and the weekly routine that unites us all. Read more

Aaron Sorkin – have you heard of him? Read more

I know nothing about football. Nothing. I am the loneliest person in a pub during trivia nights when the questions are asked about so-and-so… I have no idea. None. Read more