Carving in Snow

Sometimes a person, or a nation, isn’t very good at expressing what’s at core. It’s why we have artists. An actor sacrifices a moment of their own life in order to give us a story of ours. A playwright scaffolds that sacrifice. The 50 stories of ‘Dear Australia’, a project of Playwriting Australia that livestreamed from 30 organisations between 2-5 July, express a moment in history when a pandemic changed everything. They tell of the cracks that opened up, and of the darkness and light revealed. They are, in turn, confronting and comforting. Together, they are a revelation and celebration of Australian voices. They deal with where our nation is and where it might need to go. I can’t think of another manifestation of theatre in Australia that has enjoyed such a remarkable coalition of forces working so whole-heartedly towards a common goal. How did we get there? To get an even 50 playwrights, we thought we’d ask 25 organisations from across Australia to each select two pla

[This article was published in The Weekend Australian on Saturday 28 March 2020] Crises can change behaviour permanently, sometimes for the better. For example, the need to share work around during the Great Depression helped kill off the six-day working week, creating the ‘weekend’. Unexpectedly, we discovered something we liked, and kept it.  Sometimes there is light in the dark. Enforced social distancing over the coming months might also change some behaviours. We will have a different relationship with time, and some people will cope with that changed relationship better than others. Here are ten ways to make friends with time, and maybe lighten things a little. They won’t pay your bills, but they might help you wring some advantage from adversity, for you and for others, and maybe permanently. One. If you bought tickets to a live performance that’s been cancelled, consider donating to the artist or venue instead of asking for a refund. You’ll feel better. You’ll help e