If you’ve written or silently agreed with anything on Facebook recently that insinuated that the youngest members of Halifax’s theatre community aren’t some of the hardest working, most intelligent, most inclusive, most innovative and resourceful people in the community than it’s very likely you don’t know these young artists. Therein, I think, lies the problem.
I left Halifax for Toronto in September, 2014 and I thought I was leaving forever. My grandmother and my dog had other plans and I came back in August, 2015 when both were first diagnosed with the illnesses that they ended up dying from. The Halifax theatre community as I knew it, from when I was a teenager through to that Fringe of 2014, had never seemed to me to change dramatically. People came, and people went, of course, we grew older, an influx of younger people came in every year as they graduated or did Fringe for the first time, and theatre companies were born and died and were reborn, and they, too, grew and matured along with us. It all seemed gradual to me. It was like watching a kid grow up that you see every day. I was only gone for eleven months, but something happened while I was away and I have no idea why or how it happened, but somewhere between December 2015 and Fringe 2016 I had an experience that I had never had before in Halifax. I walked into the Bus Stop Theatre and it was packed with all these new people I had never seen before. “Who are these people?” I remember thinking to myself, “Where have they all come from? Where are all the people who are usually here? What’s going on?”
I don’t know where they came from or why they all descended upon Halifax’s independent theatre community all at once, but from that very first day I saw them, this “Next Generation” of Halifax’s independent theatre, I knew they were already profoundly talented. All of them. It’s in my best interest to do whatever I can to keep these artists in Halifax. I want to to be the person who reviews their shows, I don’t want to give that job to Kelly Nestruck when they move to Toronto because the Bus Stop Theatre got torn down and turned into a condo building called “Bus Stop Plaza.” I like writing about exciting, high caliber, innovative and magical new work. I want there to be theatre companies equivalent to 2b and Zuppa Theatre in Halifax twenty years from now. That’s in my best interest too. I want to live in a city where good theatre happens regularly. That’s not a pipe dream. That’s literally the kind of city we all live in right now- from Neptune Theatre’s The Bridge to Matchstick’s Joyride to YPCo’s She Kills Monsters and Villain’s Fox and Steady Theatre’s MacBeth to Hello City, good theatre is happening at every level and, frankly (as someone who has been writing about theatre in this city (on and off) for eleven years) this feels really rare, really special. I don’t want to hand what I firmly believe could be Halifax’s Golden Age for Theatre over to Toronto, Edmonton and Montreal because Halifax didn’t know how to keep one venue alive.
Jeremy Webb has shown time and time again this season that he understands that it’s also in Neptune’s best interest to make sure that Halifax has such a strong community of emerging artists. He’s committed to casting local, to programming plays written by local playwrights, and to provide remount opportunities for strong, local productions, shows that often begin at The Bus Stop Theatre. It’s in his best interest that the Halifax theatre community be able to offer him a wide array of outstanding local work to choose from. During the recent Neptune Season Launch, attended largely by Neptune’s subscribers, he made a passionate shout out to The Bus Stop when he announced Neptune’s new partnership with the Halifax Fringe. It made me tear up because I don’t remember ever hearing anyone speak about The Bus Stop Theatre from the Fountain Hall Stage before. That kind of allyship seems so simple and easy to do, but it can feel profound.
It’s in the best interest of every actor who lives here, whether they be fixtures of Fountain Hall or someone who is about to graduate from Dalhousie next month to have a thriving independent theatre community. I remember when Ben Stone, Alex McLean, Christian Barry, Anthony Black, Sue LeBlanc and Richie Wilcox were emerging artists. In their first shows they largely worked with peers their own age and friends they knew, as most emerging artists do. Many cannot afford to hire Equity actors at the beginning of their careers, or are creating work entirely because they need to make their own work to hone their crafts, to build their profile in the community, and to do the work they want to do (or any work at all). Yet, as these artists and their companies grew, eventually they began to employ all sorts of different artists and created work that a huge array of actors were excited to audition for or to collaborate with them on something new. If you are familiar with the work of Halifax’s current emerging artists you already know that in a few years people are going to be clambering to work with them. The more strong emerging theatre companies we have today means more strong established companies tomorrow, which means more work opportunities for everyone. That’s in everyone’s best interest.
I’m an old Millennial and I’m sick to death of the attitude that it’s always necessary for young people to experience what was gruelling for earlier generations. My grandmother didn’t want me to have to spend my childhood cooking, cleaning, and taking care of other children like she did. She wanted me to go to University because she was never given that opportunity, and she saw my education as an advancement for our family. We don’t tell new parents not to use carseats because our parents didn’t use them and “we survived.” We don’t advocate for children working in mines or factories because we’re sure it’s a “character building experience.” If we all worked together to make things a bit easier for this generation of theatre artists than it was for me and my friends I wouldn’t scoff and say that we were depriving them of living below the poverty line, burning out at twenty-five, living in their mom’s basement at 34 (hi!) or being so discouraged, poor and full of anxiety that they gave up on theatre altogether and went into something else. I know, you probably did all of those things, and you, despite the odds, made it. Congratulations, genuinely and honestly. But, think of what you could have done with a little more support, as talented and industrious and full of perseverance, sweat, grit and determination as you are. Think about all the people we have lost to other cities or other vocations along the way. How many of them were artists of colour, women, members of the 2SLGTBQ+ community? How many important, brilliant, unique, voices did we lose because it’s so hard to make a living as an emerging artist and also be an emerging artist who has the time, ability and resources to do good work in this city? It’s in all our best interests to make sure we don’t lose these voices. Also, If you’re being 100% honest with yourself, how much of why you “survived” has to do with your family’s economic status, a connection that you had that opened a door up, the colour of your skin, or literal luck. I’m here, unpaid, writing this blog because of all of the above.
In the same way that I think kids using car seats in the car benefits everyone in the community, despite the fact that you can’t go back in time and put me in one, I think that better opportunities for young artists also benefits this community, despite the fact that these didn’t exist “when I was their age.”
If you know the youngest among us, you already know this: they’ve already worked so hard, put in their time, proved their worth. They’re literally trying to save The Bus Stop as I type this. If you’re still skeptical, I encourage you to seek out their work and see for yourself.
I came back to Halifax because I wanted to be here for my beloved, sweet little dog and my cherished, extraordinary, grandmother at the end of their lives. They’re both gone now. I could be in Toronto writing about theatre there, but now I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go because the theatre community here feels electric, it feels like it’s on the brink of something new, something monumental, something huge and exciting. I want to be here for that. I want to be the one who writes about that. I want to be here because Jeremy Webb is the Artistic Director of Neptune Theatre. I want to be here because of Old Stock and Kamp and The Princess Show. I want to be here because of She Kills Monsters. And I want to be here because of the wide array of shows that I’ve seen both during the regular theatre seasons and during Fringe from the emerging theatre community that have deeply impressed me, that have left me feeling inspired and hopeful and thrilled. I want to get to watch them and their theatre companies grow up. I want to be here for that.
