I recently spent 10 days in the UK, dedicated to expanding my artistic practice and benchmarking my developing auto-biographical solo work. This opportunity was made possible thanks to The City of Gold Coast and Art’s Queensland. Here's a glimpse of my experiences and the thoughts that arose during my trip:
I landed in a surprisingly sunny London and took the train straight to The Place to see a work in development from two female artists in residence. We were each offered a cool cordial on entry to the bright loft-like studio space and told if it was too hot we could step outside (one summer’s day breaking the poor unprepared Brits). The comedic duo of dancers took us through the journey of a pregnancy inside a ‘womb party’ including drinking games, balloons and teamwork from the audience. My friend Hannah, who I’d met years before at a dance intensive in Spain, sat beside me. Together we pondered the challenges women face in their ongoing struggle for autonomy over their bodies and reproductive rights. It's been just a few hours since I arrived in London, and I'm already reminded of how much I love this city.
The rest of my trip followed a similar pattern. I raced through London, hitting major venues like The Old Vic, National Theatre, Tate Modern, and the National Galleries. Then, I took the train to Woolwich to see some of the final shows of Punchdrunk's Burnt City. This sprawling warehouse space felt like stepping into a video game with its post-apocalyptic and ethereal rooms. Even after three hours of exploration, I still missed so many spaces and talented performers. Similarly spectacular, was my visit to the Kit Kat Club in the West End, where I witnessed their epic Cabaret. This performance seamlessly blended contemporary dance with jazzy cabaret theatre. I found myself perched high up in the elaborately ornate theatre in the round, completely absorbed in a hedonistic celebration of post-World War I and pre-World War II Germany. It was a stark reminder of our fragile connection to peace, particularly given recent global events.
From there, I boarded a train bound for Brighton, a quirky coastal city brimming with an eclectic arts culture that mirrors its iconic Palace Pier Fair. I spent a week with a beautiful bunch of artists working with powerhouse theatre-maker, Bryony Kimmings, on her rigorous process of developing auto-biographical solo work. She promoted a system of giving and receiving feedback from the start of the creative process. This runs counter to the instincts of artists like myself, who prefer to hide their work until it's perfectly polished. Bryony’s culture of ‘care and share’ really resonated with me. In pushing our fragile ideas out of the nest to fly, or fall, we can create our most meaningful and significant work. Plus, we can support each other to do it.
Back in London I felt the same supportive energy at the Cockpit’s monthly Scratch Night. Here artists can present a quick pitch-like version of their show and receive direct critical feedback from the audience. Audiences were supportive and generous, made up of either theatre enthusiasts or artists themselves. It was wholesome and the strong sense of community and passion for arts filled me with similar enthusiasm. Aside from the epic, what was interesting and appealing to audiences was the personal and vulnerable. As Bryony aptly put it, “People are interested in YOU”. The artist, the person. An interesting reminder of our innate sense of compassion and our deep desire for connection that the arts elicit from us all.
Photo by Kate Taylor
In today's world, marked by polarised opinions, biassed media algorithms, fake news, and a growing sense of social disconnection, people are yearning for authentic stories and experiences. They crave a sense of unity. It's not surprising that I observed many artists, like myself, reconnecting with their unique cultural heritage and sense of place, aspects that were once silenced. As I’ve delved into writing the story of my Lebanese great grandmother's journey to acceptance in Australia over the past year, I rediscovered the inherent ties to my Lebanese heritage. There's a profound sense of belonging that emerges when we embrace our cultural traditions. For me, preparing my family's tabouli or hummus recipe fills me with a bubbling sense of pride, as if some of my ancestors are present with me. This feeling lingers and provides a sense of calm, something often missing in modern Western culture, where individualism tends to be idealised.
During my creative process with Bryony's group, the question I posed that resonated the most deeply with others was: "Why doesn't my body feel like my own?" Many shared this sense of disconnect or a lack of ownership over their bodies. There are likely many reasons for this, but one I've been considering is how part of us is connected to our ancestors. We are the cumulative result of generations past. Healing and understanding ourselves and each other involves acknowledging and appreciating our shared history.
It’s interesting that London, the capital of the country which played perhaps the largest role in white-washing the world, is now one of the world’s most culturally diverse cities. Beautiful stories about unique identities, experiences and cultural histories seem to be ever popular and important to its public. My last day in London I saw the Marina Abramovic exhibition at the Royal Academy of the Arts. One of my all time favourite artists, her work has received acclaim for its radical questioning through daring physical risk performance art. It’s also deeply, shockingly personal. Across her lifespan of work shown in the exhibition she exposes her body, her relationship with her partner, her parents, her Serbian heritage, her sexuality, and her uniquely close connection with her audiences. People flocked to the gallery to glimpse Marina the person, the artist. Her vulnerability has become her superpower.
As I return home and continue writing my own auto-biographical show, I carry this inspiration with me. While spectacular sets, virtuosic bodies, and exciting collaborations can lead to exceptional work, at its core, great art thrives in honest storytelling. The courage to reveal the personal, to lay bare the complexities and uniqueness of our true selves, can touch the heart of what we all seek— a deeper sense of connection.