Cutting Out A New Fringe

So here we are again. 5AM seems like a reasonable time to head home, eating has stood down to make room for free wine, running between shows and taking calls from increasingly fatigued media types.

I’ve never blogged about festivals before. Too wary of saying anything untoward about a show, a venue, a person, a blog, a newspaper, a broadcasting corporation, one of my colleagues, one of my team, how everyone at fringe towers fancies men, how eating falafel every other day feels very comforting, how one gradually loses their mind and then finds it again deep in a venue specialising in physical theatre and invisible trapeze hidden beneath a secret door in a letter box.

My idea was to try and capture the uniqueness of working arts festivals. The sudden change of pace, the ability to get up for work and be productive after 4 hours sleep and too many glasses of wine on an empty stomach. The idea that everyone suddenly knows someone everywhere and it’s not odd to have several places where one knows there will be company. And good company at that.

The consuming factor of festivals, for me, is the idea that someone super random may make some kind of discovery, see something wonderful they wouldn’t usually – and all through no particular art or design. The simplicity of open arts means that working within a festival makes me no different from a punter; if it did, maybe I wouldn’t have had a muffin thrown at me from the stage to pull my concentration into check in a dozy moment mid show on Thursday night.

In the last week, I have laughed, pondered, seen some amazing dance moves, discovered Dave Callan is the best man in the world, stood in the pouring rain to put the Fringe on the tele box, seen a willy, seen glittered breasts, diluted my hangover into a 30 minute walk to work rather than a full day blackout on more than three occasions, been annoyed at people’s poor wording and sometime objectionable behavior, been cheered by umpteen more people’s great wording and supremely wonderful behavior. I have yet to cry; that day may come. I have yet to make a complete idiot of myself in front of someone off the tele; that day will come.