The Free List

So much of what we do is invisible: the years of training, the months and months of meticulous planning, the emotional labour of holding space, the unpaid hours of thinking, planning, rehearsing, producing, connecting. When people slide into that ecosystem only at the point where the tickets are free or discounted, when the hospitality is flowing and the vibes are buzzing, it can start to feel like all of that is just there to be taken.

I have the growing sense that people simply showing up, offering attention or saying flattering things - about artists, the company, the strategy - is seen as ‘payment enough’. That access to [exceptional] artists, to performances, to guest lists and conversations is treated as a bottomless resource, rather than something that costs time, money and energy to sustain.

Creative work is labour. Emotional presence is labour. Curating a room, a foyer, a stage - holding a standard, keeping an arts company alive in this country - is labour. When that labour is consistently met with expectation of a bargain, a discount, a freebie, instead of reciprocity, it stops feeling like community, and starts feeling like extraction.

If someone receives free tickets to experience a work of performing art, and can afford it, surely donating at least the face value of the ticket is a reasonable expectation - especially if no other cash donation has been made. Mostly, people on an invitation list can afford to buy their tickets. Donating the face value is a simple, tangible way to show that it is respected and understood that these experiences aren’t free or inexpensive to create, and sustaining them requires individual action.

It’s about remembering that generosity in the form of an offer of a free/discounted ticket is a choice, a kindness - it’s not owed, by virtue of status or any other measure. Artists deserve the same baseline respect we extend to any other skilled profession - think of it as a call-out fee that is obligatory, before the work is done. It is important to financially value the shows, the spaces, the introductions and the experience - and to act to show respect and appreciation of what it takes to keep offering them.

"Best Practice"

Social feeds and email bulletins make the problem obvious. Post after post from agencies, peak bodies, boards and “thought leaders” celebrating governance frameworks, compliance milestones, “sector‑leading best-practice” and new strategic documents - all delivered in a tone that treats artists as background detail, rather than the reason any of their accomplishments exist.

In these communications, the working artist appears as a logo, a photo or a brief success story. There is almost no acknowledgement that outside of the mainstream (i.e. government-funded companies), it is more often than not artists who routinely balance fragile budgets, [fail to] negotiate with venues, manage collaborators, deal with donors, hustle for funding/discounts, read contracts - and hold the morale of companies and boards together while also making the work.

The polite exclusion, in public view

The language of these posts is polished and familiar: safeguarding, due diligence, strategic alignment, impact measurement. There is nothing inherently wrong with any of it. What is striking is who is quoted, and who is absent. Policy‑makers quote executives. Boards quote consultants. Consultants quote each other.

Artists, especially those outside mainstream institutions, are rarely cited as the architects of these ideas. When they do appear, it is usually as decoration: a photograph, a pull‑quote about “passion,” a testimonial about how a program supported their practice - not as thinkers shaping the need for governance, fundraising or policy. The implicit message is clear:

• agencies and non-arts bodies run the system

• administrators and managers keep it compliant

• artists provide talent, stories and images to prove it all matters

What artists are already doing

The picture painted in public communications bears little resemblance to how most artists actually operate.

Outside the spotlight, countless artists are:

• planning seasons and projects with the same strategic discipline claimed by institutions

• constantly re‑budgeting around late payments, lost venues and shifting grants

• managing risk in real time for collaborators, communities and audiences

• building relationships with donors and supporters, often the only people who can communicate the work’s value convincingly

• keeping teams, and sometimes even boards, motivated when resources are thin and uncertainty is high.

These are administrative and executive capacities by any reasonable definition. Yet the communications that set the tone of the sector rarely acknowledge them as such. Artists’ labour is described as “creative input,” while the language of leadership is reserved for those drafting frameworks and policies from a distance.

Who gets to speak, and about what

Who appears as an expert in these posts and announcements? The same names circulate: directors of agencies, senior executives of major organisations, consultants specialising in governance or philanthropy. Panels are advertised with familiar headshots, and the topics revolve around strategy, sustainability, governance reform, innovation - almost always discussed without a single artist from outside large institutions at the table.

When artists are invited into these communications, it is usually:

• to provide a brief “artist voice” quote about how a program came to be

• to perform or speak at a launch or donor event

• to offer a short reflection on creativity, framed as inspiration, rather than structural critique.

There is almost never room for artists to speak publicly, through these channels, about the architecture of policy, about how governance requirements land in daily practice, or about what fundraising actually looks like on the ground. Those conversations stay in the hands of agencies and executives, who then broadcast their conclusions as settled wisdom.

A sector talking to itself

The result is an echo chamber. Agencies and institutional leaders speak to one another in public, confirming each other’s frameworks and applauding each other’s initiatives, while artists - particularly independent, experimental and marginalised practitioners - watch from the sidelines. They see systems being designed around them but rarely shaped with them, and they seldom get direct access to the people who could actually change those systems.

This is not just a question of optics. Public communications shape who is perceived as an authority. When artists are consistently absent from the serious parts of the conversation – governance, fundraising strategy, policy design - they are treated as extras in a story that depends entirely on their work. The sector starts to believe its own publicity: that responsibility and rigour live with agencies and executives, and that artists simply supply the content and the morale.

A healthier communication culture would look very different. It would:

• present artists, especially those outside mainstream institutions, as co‑authors of governance and policy thinking,

• centre artists’ analysis of how frameworks and funding structures actually function in practice,

• give artists direct, sustained space in public channels to speak to donors, decision‑makers and the wider sector about more than inspiration,

• acknowledge openly that artistic labour already encompasses administration, leadership, fundraising and organisational care.

Until that happens, every glossy post about “best practice” governance without an artist’s voice attached simply confirms the same old problem: those deciding the rules still don’t trust the people who make the art to help write them.

Opera’s Misdiagnosis: Why Words, Not Music, Are Its Core

Opera is still being sold as classical music’s most lavish spectacle - a world of large voices, rich orchestras, and famous tunes. It is extolled as an elevated musical experience: symphonic gold dust, gilded with who’s who in the foyer. For many people, the old-world glamour is a turn-off; reinforcing the anti-opera, elite-prejudice tropes.

By treating opera as a ‘sophisticated’ branch of music, rather than a form of theatre and storytelling, we may have misrepresented its nature, and misdirected its audience. Opera’s power has never been its sound alone. The art form’s emotional core lies in words - their rhythm, precision, and capacity to hurt, heal, and reveal.

Research on lyrics and emotion suggests that opera’s power lies precisely in what some music-lovers seek to avoid: the direct, named, narrative emotion that comes with word. Opera closer to theatre than symphony: driven by character, situations and language made extreme - speech pushed to the limit of human sound. When composers set words to music, they don’t decorate. They taste, test, stretch; make it dangerous. The music exists to enrich and expose what lies beneath the words, not to replace or obscure them.

In opera, words can give music its edge, fixing meaning and provoking emotions. A melody can move and suggest, but a line of text tells us why this particular betrayal, this hunger, this ecstasy, this loss. Opera magnifies these moments by joining language and sound until neither can exist without the other. It is not music plus story, but a collision of both, generating emotion that feels too large to contain.

The convention of singing in foreign languages may have carried prestige and made international exchange easier, but it has also come at a cost. Reading sur-titles disconnects the audience from the stage. When comprehension or concentration slips, reactions are out of sync, and empathy recedes. The result is an experience absorbed through the mind before it reaches the heart. Opera’s emotional clarity depends on linguistic clarity; when that is obscured its deep impact falters, no matter how impressive the music, or how astounding the voice.

Opera’s enduring gift is communal vulnerability - and starts with a willingness to feel. In recent years, after the disruptions of pandemic and political tension, audiences have sought familiarity and comfort. Companies have relied on well-travelled repertoire and nostalgia for box-office security. Attendance post-pandemic is still faltering. The problem is not that people dislike opera; the majority of our population don’t know anything about it. New generations will listen to anything - genre is blurred, if not irrelevant, in the soundtrack to their lives. Courting music-lovers seeking beauty and comfort is pointless, with open and inexpensive digital access to music of all kinds, anytime, anywhere. Opera’s deepest connection lies with story-lovers seeking truth, and people seeking live, human interaction.

Those drawn to difficult words and complex narratives - readers, theatre-goers, writers festival-goers, podcast listeners - are opera’s natural allies. They already crave the kind of meaning that music alone cannot provide. To reach them, opera must reclaim its identity as verbal theatre. The music speaks to questions embedded in each work: the moral sacrifices, the conflicts of power and love, the choices that undo us. Librettists, playwrights and translators are not support staff; they are central collaborators in reawakening opera’s emotional precision.

Opera is, and always has been, an art form of confrontation. It shouldn’t encourage background listening or polite distance. The combination of music and language, voices and relationships, makes feeling unavoidable. In an age of the seeking of distraction and comfort, opera’s insistence on intensity may be exactly what our cultural life needs.

Opera’s future will not be secured by turning up the volume on spectacle and scale, but by claiming (and supporting…) its full identity as an art form where music serves the drama of thought and feeling.

Text above: Mary Motorhead by Emma O’Halloran and Mark O’Halloran.

Australian Premiere: March 6-13, 2026 at Malthouse Theatre, Southbank, Victoria. Australia

The Necessity of Meaning

Two weeks later, and I am still awe-struck by The Royal Opera’s recent performance of ARIODANTE, directed by Jetske Mijnssen and conducted by Stefano Montanari at Covent Garden. Händel has never seemed so short - I truly wished it would keep going. An enthralling; devastatingly beautiful performance. The production demonstrated what opera can be when virtuosity becomes a vessel, rather than a display.

An inspiring, rare fusion of musical, physical, and emotional integrity - unexpectedly great: this was no museum-piece Handel embalmed in affectation, prescribed style and technical reverence. Although the vocal, musical, and technical skill on display was astonishing, the production was what opera should always be - a living act of communication, in which every character, every phrase, spoke of an urgent need to reach beyond the source material and into the heart of each person in the auditorium.

Emily d’Angelo’s exceptional and fearless physicality created a ‘real’ Ariodante, torn between strength and vulnerability; vocal lines were played and stretched to sound less like ornament and more like thought made audible. Around her, the other characters were cleverly moved with collective intentionality - every silence weighted, every glance deliberate.

The orchestra of the Royal Opera House gave Händel’s score a driving elasticity and jolting emotional pulse. Händel can often seem long and repetitive from the audience chair, but not this one. Not a single note, phrase or gesture was performed merely “for show.” The audience collectively held their breath numerous times.

This synergy - of sound, movement, and psychology - countered a persistent anxiety I’ve been carrying: that singers today believe their careers depend on perfect reproduction of the vocal material, or, of how the repertoire has “traditionally” been done.

I’ve observed too, that emerging singers in particular, often believe their purpose lies in perfection according to the score, or an academic matrix, when their real work is the discovery of their own insistent artistic voice. A voice that comes out of meaning itself - the overwhelming necessity to communicate what lies within, around and behind the music. The need to articulate what deeply matters to a human being, a stranger, for the artist’s own survival renders technique alone underwhelming. In our Australian operatic culture, sticking within limits is encouraged, and often rewarded. Administrations, naturally, prizing safety over artistic risk, send a message to performers - in stage and in the pit - that they should do the same.

This ARIODANTE made the case that collectively going out on a limb makes opera work. Its emotional charge came from a shared sense among performers and orchestra that meaning, not the mechanics, must lead. That conviction, combined with skill, discipline, and beauty, meant the drama danced and pulsed with modern relevance. Love, honour, desire, and self-knowledge emerged not as indulgent abstractions, but as lived, urgent conflicts.

ARIODANTE reminded me of the deeper purpose behind technique. Although standards must be met and proficiency constantly sought, perfection, in the mind of an artist, is inert. Meaning moves. This for me was opera at its best.

Sound, body, and imagination acting together - transcending its own grandeur and becoming what it was always meant to be: an art of human insistence and urgency.

“Feel what I feel”, these artists seemed to say. “Know what I know - and be changed.”

It was extraordinary. I felt the way I hope people feel when they come to one of ACOCO’s shows. Blessed to have been there.

Don't look back...

Defining Australia's Unique Operatic Voice

Is presenting opera as it was intended by old, deceased composers merely indulging in nostalgia?

In the realm of the contemporary, where presentation, creation, imagination and ideas converge, there is a vitality that thrives and grows through discomfort. Opera is a life-force that propels us into uncharted territories. While acknowledging the importance of the foundations upon which skilful singing, playing and musicianship are built, we must also recognise that these foundations have to be brought into the present moment if they are to resonate with people around us - and importantly, help make opera more sustainable.

It is essential to honour the achievements of past generations, but attempting to emulate their successes or replicate their paths is surely a futile endeavour. The context in which they thrived has long since changed. Even over the past ten to fifteen years, the international landscape for operatic work and artists’ opportunities has changed dramatically.

It may be considered an unpopular perspective, but the quest to find "another Melba or Sutherland" in Australia might be symptomatic of our cultural cringe - a belief that we are unworthy unless we emulate the successes and expectations of the past. In addition, the funding structures that exist to fund this past ‘ideal’ tend to favour the traditional and unadventurous.

Since the early 1930s, arts leaders - including the National Theatre's Gertrude Johnson OBE - have bemoaned the exodus of talent to the UK and Europe, believing the expertise for artistic development was right here in Australia, and that audiences robbed of local talent were deprived of developing meaningful connections to Australia's artists and the art form.  Other disciplines - including science - bemoan same: overseas exodus of the über-talented.  

Perhaps we could stop stockpiling money in multimillion dollar trusts that use income from investments to focus on individual success. That investment is ultimately pointless if it sucks investment out of the onstage, impactful portion of the sector - and there are fewer and fewer jobs.  Underlying ACOCO’s constant evolving programs is the fervent belief that Australian artists, irrespective of age and situation, should be able to support themselves and build a life here. Taking money off-stage to support individuals sees the best early and mid-career talent moving overseas to find work - or worse, give up.

Opera in America and Europe is evolving, becoming increasingly irreverent, culturally attuned, respectful of diversity and accessibility.  In the UK, their world-revered institutions are facing life-changing funding cuts and identity crises - poor leadership choices over decades have left companies like ENO without a niche to claim. Consequent artists difficulties - undeniably impacted by Brexit - in sustaining careers is resulting in an artistic exodus - not only by British singers, but by the international cohort as well.  We need to be funded in Australia to creatively explore ways to employ Australian artists to collaborate and engage at grass-roots - the focus on repertoire of the 'old masters' to find an international spotlight does not effectively develop emerging and established talent for serving the public, particularly in our part of the world. The ‘invisible impact’ of excellent, inspiring public performance has been lost in the discourse.

In light of the challenging and changing landscape of our times, we must ask: 

How can we capture the essence of Australian culture and spirit in our new operas?

Where is the audaciousness, the vibrancy, and, perhaps most crucially, the genuine connection with the audience of Australia today? 

Who is responsible for providing for Australian principal artists the framework to forge a sustainable careers based in their home country, if not our tax-payer funded companies?

If we persist in gazing across the centuries, and across the seas, repetitively executing the same paths and routines, we risk stifling the potential for opera to be part of an authentic expression of Australia's identity. The future of Australian opera lies not in mimicry of old masters, but in embracing the present, exploring new frontiers, and forging a path that resonates with the hearts and minds of contemporary audiences - through imaginatively (expertly?) working with our talented and skilled artists. The artists we are training, rewarding and investing in do not have to sing or compose like Puccini, or Verdi or even Mozart to make a valid work of operatic art. Opera is so much more than the old masters. The model of trying to make new talent fit the old mould is well and truly broken.

From the horse's mouth: finding out you're, essentially, unseen

Recently, I was at a big birthday party, and had a brief conversation with Adrian Collette, CEO of Creative Australia. Our history spans decades, from his days as a baritone in the Victoria State Opera chorus to his current position at the helm of Australia's principal arts funding body. Despite our long acquaintance, our interactions have been infrequent, with our last formal meeting in 2019 to discuss our then decade-old company; our achievements and goals, and potential for government funding.

In the noisy atmosphere of the party, Adrian posed a question that has since haunted me: "Why do you keep going?" After an initial joke about not being in it for the money (my own private dig at the 85% discrepancy between his salary and mine), I could see he was waiting for a ‘real answer’, and I provided a heartfelt response: about my unshakable belief in the transformative power of operatic storytelling. His genuine response - a hand squeeze - belied the complexity of what this interaction represents, and I have often thought about it since.

It struck me that this exchange highlights a real disconnect between arts administrators and the artists they're meant (paid) to support. There is no platform for artistic leaders to meaningfully engage beyond their own bubble - meetings and conversations with the fortunate “top [due to money] tier” are rare or non-existent, unless you’re part of the multi-year funded that can bring dollars to the table, no correspondence is entered into... The situation also affects the submission-based, so-called ‘peer’ review - arms length process as inadequate for not only funding, but for informing policy and strengthening advocacy - how can anything progress, without conversation with people outside the bubble?

That the CEO of Creative Australia needs to ask such a fundamental question of an artist with 30 years of significant experience in the sector is troubling - not only for in the existential sense that my [hard, poorly paid] work in providing jobs for artists and unique experiences for audiences has been unseen and misunderstood by those that represent artists at the highest levels - and that those in leadership and making decisions on behalf of the arts sector actually lack a deep understanding of artistic motivations - and real artists’ challenges.

Perhaps this goes some way to explain why Creative Australia funding criteria and processes often favour short-term, neatly-packaged projects over sustained artistic development; failing to recognise the long-term commitment and benefits brought by experienced artists in the small to medium organisations - especially to complex sectors such as opera. Perhaps if this question needs to be asked, then the current system doesn't adequately incorporate artists' voices in policy-making processes, leading to the gap between funding decisions and artistic realities. I have often thought the funding system prioritises easily measurable short-term impacts over the less tangible long-term cultural value of developing - and keeping pace with - the living art form.

This interaction highlights an urgent need for a more robust dialogue between artists and administrators, boards and advocates - and a long, overdue re-evaluation of how arts funding is approached and allocated. While the persistence of artists like myself is a testament to the enduring power of opera, it also underscores the need for a system that better understands, supports, and nurtures the sector, for the benefit of artists and society as a whole.

Without these conversations about artistic direction - and the artistic freedom funding provides - as well as the direction of the operatic art form more broadly, the funding system remains disconnected from the realities of artistic practice. Breaking this cycle requires a fundamental shift in how the opera sector approaches dialogue, funding, and support for artists at all stages of their careers - but particularly, urgently now, in mid-career.

Focusing on the endgame...

Yesterday I was designated driver for a carload of Rising Artists to perform a series of promotional pop-ups on the Mornington Peninsula. A practical attempt to drive awareness of our events in the region as part of our upcoming unique and ground-breaking international Festival of Opera and Song. (Which, because we don’t have funding AKA advertising budget, is not selling as fast as we’d like...)

I listened to their conversations with genuine interest, and at some times concern: with more criticism of the landscape, the companies/potential employers, and multi-faceted dissatisfaction than the sector itself should probably bear. Not confined to the artists in the car, but rather more generally, the vibe of “feeling hard done by” because of self-belief in a particular talent is not healthy for morale - nor does the focus on what’s perceived as missing - money, time, attention - encourage the broader community support we all need.

The opera sector is currently navigating turbulent waters, and, as young people step into forging their careers, it's vital to understand the landscape - because bitterness can easily become the default. Opera companies worldwide are grappling with significant financial pressures that directly impact their ability to pay artists at hey-day 1980-90s levels. The people in leadership positions, with the exception of government-funded institutions are usually working for minimum wages - or less. They’re not sitting back making a profit off young talent talent - usually, they are invested in sustainability and vibrancy for their chosen, beloved art form - despite every sensible reason they should do something else (for more money).

Over the past two decades, or more, government funding for opera in Australia has significantly decreased in real terms. Simultaneously, box office revenues are on a downward trend as audience numbers dwindle. To compound these issues, rising costs are outpacing income growth for most companies. These financial constraints have forced opera companies to make difficult decisions, including budget cuts, reduced programming, and workforce reductions.

There's a pressing need to make the people around us care about art, artists, and their careers - and face the reality of paid career development in opera has changed dramatically. Companies simply cannot afford to fully fund the career development of every talented graduate. The number of available roles and opportunities is limited, and competition for positions is fierce, even for chorus roles. If an emerging artist is not working regularly with OA, then they need every possible stage performance experience they can get, without feeling dissatisfied.

It's crucial to understand that opera companies are not deliberately exploiting young artists. Many are struggling to survive themselves, and are grappling with systemic challenges that are not easily solved. Maintaining morale and motivation requires acceptance: that building a sustainable career may take time and persistence, that graduating doesn’t necessarily make you job-ready in this career - and that maintaining a professional career in opera will always require many more hours than you will be paid to do. Art is work - but more than a lot of it - practice, skills development, learning, coaching, rehearsing, research - is unpaid.

The opera world needs unique passion and talent, but it also needs understanding of current realities. By approaching careers in the 21st century with realistic expectations and a willingness to adapt, belief in the value of contributing to the art form's future while working towards building a fulfilling professional life can underpin the hard and often poorly compensated work. The face-value injustice of which fades into insignificance, when a transformative exchange - which a single person could not have achieved on their own - takes place between art, artist and audience.

Opera in Australia: Time for a Bold New Act

This is a wide-ranging thought-dump which I started, and can’t properly finish - I have Christmas shopping to do - (and an international opera festival to bring off on a shoestring…)

After three decades of producing, performing, and wrestling with opera funding, I've got some [more] thoughts on why our beloved art form is struggling. It's not just an Australian problem—opera is facing challenges worldwide. We have much to learn from overseas models, but the Australian answer will need to be hemisphere-specific. We’re not like other societies, and there lies our biggest opportunity.

The Great Risk Aversion

Opera's biggest enemy right now is the establishment fear of taking artistic risks. This has led to too many performances that look the same, companies losing their unique identity, and audience confusion about what opera is (and why their taxes should support it.)

The Australian Opera Dilemma

We've got a serious case of ‘checkbox programming’ in Australia. Funders, managers and administrators are increasingly calling the artistic shots. Well-meaning policies are stifling artistic expression. The funding stagnation situation primarily falls on the shoulders of government and its agencies, who, correct me if I’m wrong, are paid partly to dish out the dollars, and partly to be advocates for the companies they fund - through securing tax-payer funds. Whose failure is it, that working conditions for Australian artists have declined dramatically (pardon the pun…) over the past 20 years? (The complex issues of governance, boards and systemic legacy are substantial topics are reserved for a separate discussion.)

Opera Australia faces its own challenges in claiming a strong and unique presence. It is tasked with appeasing the establishment, holding on to its national profile - as an international player, adhering to government-set cultural policy, while also dealing with the corporatisation of their ‘rightful’ home as the national company - the Sydney Opera House. The pride when citizens of other countries speak of their opera houses and substantial seasons is not insignificant. A performing arts centre is a building, and they’re everywhere, but an ‘opera house’ says the art form is sincerely valued. The Sydney Opera House is a physical manifestation of the place that opera has traditionally (well, since 1973…) held in the Australian psyche. Touring is all well and good, but shouldn’t come at the expense of the main event.

The Collaboration Trap

The co-production model for opera seems to have backfired. Audiences struggle to differentiate between companies, which undermines their ability to cultivate strong artistic loyalties—essential for advocacy and support. This approach has also diminished the diversity of artistic offerings. While partnering with other government-funded opera companies to co-present productions seems convenient and practical, the primary focus on cost-sharing rather than prioritising audience impact or long-term vision has harmed the overall health of the opera sector.

Here’s a radical idea: perhaps collaboration works best if the contributing parties are unequal. Otherwise, the offering is the same old to the same old.

In my mind, it makes little artistic sense for Australian companies to collaborate on staging standard works like Mozart or Verdi operas, no matter how exciting or progressive the creative leadership might be. It is not that difficult to do a cost-effective staging of a 200-300 year old opera. After all, there are many prototypes. Co-producing new commissions however, deserves a pooling of resources, offering a meaningful opportunity to contribute to a lasting legacy. Such collaborations benefit the entire Australian opera scene by bringing new works of living creators to life—pieces that might not otherwise be produced—and often making them accessible in multiple locations. Partnerships/collaborations beyond the opera sector, such as with animation, cutting-edge design, cine-theatre, or art orchestras, are particularly valuable, and enrich the art form significantly.

Artistic Direction: Missing Ingredient

There's a real fear of letting artists, especially singers, have a say in decision-making. We’re people who live and breathe the art form - we don’t feel a need to apologise for opera being complex and multi-faceted. Some of us are not just pretty voices —we've got brains and ideas for connecting with Australian audiences too, but we rarely get to sit in the room where policies and programs are set.

There is a prevailing mistrust of the artistic vision, not just within the sector itself, but in the corporate/business/philanthropy world. I encounter suspicion regularly around what an artist or artistic company might ‘take’ or have to gain... I don’t think it is overstepping to say artists always give more than they take. And that an artistic vision is a just that - a dream of something that might be, with compelling ideas (but not necessarily the whole team) of what it will take to get there.

Has anyone else thought that the popularity of music theatre have something to do with the language it’s performed in…?

Or,

Perhaps Australian audiences don’t go to the theatre to read…

English National Opera (ENO) was founded with a clear mission: to make opera accessible to a wider audience by performing foreign works in English. The company's commitment to singing in English was seen as a way to enhance the emotional connection between performers and audiences, alongside accessibility for the so-called “working-class”. ENO's decision to deviate from its original language policy has contributed to a loss of identity and connection with its target audience - losing its footing with the hearts and minds of its audience, and ultimately, its funding.

The success of opera companies often hinges on their ability to balance artistic integrity with accessibility and cultural relevance, a delicate equilibrium. This challenge is faced by opera companies worldwide.

Germany - still providing Australian opera singers with their best hope of an ongoing salary:

As much as travel - and performing in another country - is a thrill, for many of the most talented Australian artists, it is their only hope of job security. Disconnection from culture, family and lifestyle is a prospect to be faced by anyone who happens to reach that distinguished level of artistic accomplishment and wants to sustain a career. In 1930s, prominent Australians bemoaned the talent drain. Almost 100 years later, it is still happening - our best artists are, mostly, on the other side of the world.

In contrast to the declining opera sector in the UK especially, Germany's opera scene has thrived (comparatively…) due to its willingness to embrace artistic risk. This success is not solely due to government subsidies or cultural connections - it is bound up in a fundamental trust in bold, artistic visions. German opera houses have consistently encouraged productions that challenge audiences and push the boundaries of the art form. Despite the criticism of ‘Regietheater* by those who are invested, personally or professionally, in ‘old opera ways’, opera’s survival doesn’t lie in what has already been written, but in what is being done now - because that’s what people come to see.

*Regietheater—directors going wild with interpretations—is a divisive topic - mostly, the criticism is from people privileged to know what composers and librettists might have originally written. Without new takes, we're running a musical museum - if you’ve seen it once, you don’t have to go back. The risk is of course that some productions might be outrageous, but at least they get people talking and spark curiosity for the next interpretation!

Rethink the Whole Funding Model

Time to Shake Things Up

1. Trust ‘outsiders’. Open up discussions and include ‘the great unfunded’.

2. Stop obsessing over ticking policy boxes. By the time its a bureaucracy states a policy, the world has moved on*.

3. Stop apologising for opera (the art form being expensive, complex, artistic)

The current (announced last week) review of Opera Australia is a start, but we need to think bigger:

1.Take a hard look at Creative Australia first / as well.

2.Question who's really making the decisions that affect not just a legacy, but a secure future for talented Australian artists.

3. Give opera its own, democratic, funding category - state and federal.

(Did you know that unless you’re an already funded state/federal company, you can’t actually apply for funding in a designated ‘opera’ category through Creative Australia? You have to choose to be peer-assessed by a music OR theatre panel…)

*recent events have shaken my confidence in contributing to the building of an increasingly progressive society. I continue to hope, and work towards, riding a wave out of this dystopian nightmare, which has people, instead of loudly blaming tax policies, governments and their agencies, withdrawing from the very thing that works to keep society informed, civilised and kind: arts and culture.

[Wo]Manifesto

From performances in iconic theatres, office-buildings, paddocks, car museums, and underground cellars, I have taken new works, renowned old works and hidden treasures, and imprinted them with our time and place. 

We are living through a time of rapid change. It is an important time to play with and push the familiar to create that operatic storytelling circle that can hold both stalwarts and newcomers. We can’t just keep repeating the past, and for many in Australia, that is what they think when they think of opera. We must grab that connection between where we’ve been and where we’re going, and be champions for a hopeful future: parameters are changing, for the better.

We’re not dealing with people who haven’t seen film or TV or YouTube or music video – everyone who comes into an opera theatre – or performance space – has seen historical drama, contemporary fantasy, verbatim drama – you name it, someone’s seen it, and presenting anything without taking that into account is, well, kind of pointless, because any time we have with an audience member is a bright spark that can be diminished in a flash by boredom or disconnection.

ACOCO is a company with a reputation for always stepping out first, and often beyond what anyone else does – and that comes down to a broad, big artistic vision, with a singer’s soul. It’s not enough to just keep presenting an annual season that conforms to a conventional pattern. That’s been done – and is already done – what excites me is the possibility of making our flagship festival output THE flagship Festival. A brand of opera-music-theatre that stands out from the rest, through strength and variety of artistic concepts, and the team that has a unique capacity to pull together. 

The foundation of any artistic endeavour is a unified, agreed vision for the end result – and artists and musicians, despite their different opinions and backgrounds, do respond  well – or at least professionally - to a big creative vision that asks for their best, their trust and requisite cooperation. 

My global view of sector trends and developments, broad experience of types and standards of productions - from The Met and Covent Garden to Bayreuth, Salzburg, Glyndebourne - all the way to back rooms of pubs in the UK and warehouse shells in the USA – has given me exposure to creative forces, combinations and story diversity that haven’t hit Australia – yet.  Digital – film – VR – immersive engagement, which has broader  - and positive - implications for things like breaking down prejudices, access, sustainability and reach. 

In these times when people have the capacity to pick and choose - and shut out, if they have pre-conceived ideas - ‘Opera for Everyone’ (or anyone, which might be more inclusive), is less about dragging everyone to ‘the opera’, as it is perceived by much of the GP, but enhancing that by taking elements of opera out into the community: making sure there is a presence bigger and bolder that people can’t ignore – and also, aiming to have ‘vibe’ different to other companies. I have many ideas of how to combine the rather conventional skills of most of the artists around us with creative collaborators who can come together on a mass audience artistic vision - not necessarily blockbusters, which assume wealth of the ticket-buying disposable income kind - but available, visible - there for the taking; unexpected, surprising, unobtrusive until someone engages.

We’ve been tugging on the coat tails of UK and Europe especially, training our most talented, and letting them go to the other side of the world so that they can do normal human things, like have a paid job and a career trajectory doing what they’re [exceptionally] good at…

The imprint of time should be felt on opera, just as it is on every other art form.  We have to confront the racist and sexist ideology within these works. The spirit of right now has to inflect everything around how we do it.

That is why ACOCO is developing as the most progressive and audacious company in the country. We go after representation on stage, in the creative staff, in the orchestra – we embrace diversity - and also look at accessibility in terms of how inherited repertoire is handled and what new pieces are being presented.

We have to do what film does – resonate with people in a sense that it connects with them and their lives in someway.  And people don’t expect to like every film they see, or book that they read - they keep going until they find something they love. We have to do that in opera - change the conversation, make the sector less prohibitive - cost-wise, language-wise, culture-wise. It might only be through a snippet of a relationship or a shared emotion or an acknowledgment of trauma – but unless we connect with people – many people – we are going to keep having the same old ‘why do opera, it’s expensive, no one cares’ conversation. 

I want to put that to rest by finding the funding (capacity) to do a variety of artistic projects that make those attitudes obsolete.

Compliments that sting.

Being called 'brave' and ‘resilient’ in the face of a seemingly immovable status quo stings, because it feels like a hollow consolation prize.

While I know the intention behind the compliment is positive, it highlights the growing sense of futility of my efforts against overwhelming odds. It feels like a pat on the back for enduring injustice, rather than achieving meaningful change.

I do appreciate the well-intentioned praise for bravery and resilience, as it acknowledges the challenges I face. However, I find myself grappling with the implications - it recognises my individual fortitude, but inadvertently shifts focus from the systemic issues at hand to my personal capacity to endure them. This subtle redirection diminishes the urgency for any one else’s action.

Being lauded for perseverance in the face of obstacles can feel paradoxical. It reinforces the notion that the responsibility for innovation and artistic delivery rests solely on my shoulders, rather than inspiring a collective determination to overcome shared challenges. This individualisation of struggle, though meant as encouragement, doesn't necessarily catalyse collaborative efforts that could truly advance our artistic output.

While I value the recognition of my efforts, I wonder how we might reframe this dialogue to emphasise collective responsibility, and inspire real engagement in addressing the obstacles we face.

Apathy: the guardian of the status quo...

Stepping into opera leadership was not just a career move for me; it was a mission to connect Australian audiences with our talented artists and to harness the power of operatic storytelling for today’s viewers. As a creative producer, I took on the role of a catalyst for opportunity, nurturing rising stars while challenging established artists to embrace fresh roles. This journey has been deeply personal, rooted in my love for high-quality opera, which began when I received my first professional singing contract, often at great personal sacrifice.

Fifteen years ago, being a female leader in the opera world was considered outrageous. Even with my credentials as a principal artist with our national company, I faced scrutiny and suspicion when I dared to start my own company. The prevailing belief seemed to be that a female singer could only aspire to sing, not to lead or innovate. Yet, each success fuelled my ambition, pushing me to expand my horizons beyond what I had initially imagined.

The path has been as rewarding as it has been challenging. In Australia, an undercurrent of disregard for artists permeates the entire sector. Budget cuts lead to shorter contracts and increased burdens on individual performers, who are often without the necessary support or financial capacity to maintain the high quality expected of them. Only a privileged few can afford the luxury of dedicated coaches and ample preparation time.

Perhaps most concerning is the scarcity of Australian singers in paid, ongoing opera leadership positions in Australia. Since Lyndon Terracini's departure, I may be the only full-time singer-artist in such a role. This represents a significant missed opportunity, particularly for our national company. We have a wealth of experienced performers, yet there is a glaring lack of "talent spotting" for roles beyond the stage. Unlike in sports or ballet, opera lacks a clear pathway for performers to transition into leadership—a gap I have long sought to address.

I am not a self-promoter; time devoted to my work has always been about achieving success for ACOCO as a company of artists and for our audiences, who often differ from those attending the Opera Australia or other state companies. My journey stands as a testament to the untapped potential within our opera community. It is time we recognise the value of Australian female artistic leadership and create structures to nurture it, ensuring a vibrant future for Australian opera - at home, as part of the global stage.

Apathy and narrow engagement have led to a failure to recognise the talent at hand. Perhaps it is easier to ignore the possibility that there might be different—and perhaps better—ways of doing things, in case it challenges everything there ever was... Or maybe the fear of ambitious female artists, reminiscent of the plots of traditional operas and inevitably ending in downfall of someone, keeps the status quo.

As I reflect on my ongoing, unfinished journey, I remain committed to advocating for change within the opera community. By recognising and nurturing the talent of female leaders, and the multiple skills of singers in general, we can pave the way for a more inclusive and dynamic future for Australian opera that spans an entire working life.

Courage of convictions

I was recently challenged on a point of ‘conventional classical music etiquette’ and put in the position of having to justify my directive - to reiterate the contemporary context to get my own way in the face of ‘tradition pushback’. It took me by surprise, because I had assumed that highly experienced professionals in Australia would have been aware - if not exposed to - the types of unconventional practises that are quite commonplace overseas - particularly as companies evolve in presentation of works in non-traditional settings, venues and concepts, and are consciously setting out to break down barriers.

It got me thinking about all of the contemporary opera, concerts and theatre I’ve seen overseas over the past decade or so, and how most of what I’ve seen overseas passes unnoticed - and, as a female stage/artistic director, I am challenged on ‘authority to direct’ more than male counterparts - even conductors (peers) will challenge my concepts and question my feedback. Not all bad; a healthy ideas exchange has never done art any harm. It’s the inherent assumption that the status quo in Australia is the traditional and the correct, that troubles me. Artistic decisions are always informed, even if a directive appears to be spontaneous - always, for me, an artistic decision underpinned by a foundation of expertise/experience, and an audience-centric mindset. Not in terms of subject matter or style of materials - but certainly in vitality and clarity in the end-game of compelling storytelling.

I thought I might try to list as many highlights as I can remember - extraordinary experiences of creators, performers, musicians and creative professionals pushing boundaries and breaking the stronghold of tradition and etiquette - which increasingly, holds meaning only for those ‘in the know’.

This will be a WIP as I brain-dump first, and maybe come back and re-order/add comments later:

I’d say this is a third so far…

PRISM by Ellen Reid directed by James Durrah - Beth Morrison Projects - Prototype Festival NYC

AND GOD CREATED GREAT WHALES written and performed by Rinde Eckert Culture Project NYC

MAI LAI written and performed by Rinde Eckhert Singapore Arts Festival

ATLAS by Meredith Monk directed by Yuval Sharon Los Angeles

WAR OF THE WORLDS by Los Angeles Philharmonic, directed by Yuval Sharon

FIRST TAKE by Wild Up and The Industry, Los Angeles

SECOND TAKE by Wild Up and The Industry, Los Angeles

TÊTE A TÊTE FESTIVAL London - Tosca in a pub

PAUL BUNYAN by Benjamin Britten presented by the ROH Chorus in an out of town arts space

NEW OPERA WORKSHOP Opera America Conference San Francisco

THE FATE OF FRANKLIN AND HIS GALLANT CREW Four Larks

PEER GYNT Four Larks

BLISS

POWDER HER FACE by Rufus Wainwright New York City Opera at BAM

THE MAGIC FLUTE dir by Barrie Kosky in collab. with 27

PETER PAN Royal Opera Covent Garden

LADY MACBETH OF MTSENK The Met

SYNAESTHESIA FESTIVAL MONA

MADAMA BUTTERFLY The Met

PRINCE IGOR The Met

ADRIANA LECOUVREUR The Met

RING CYCLE (Castorf) at Bayreuth

RAPE OF LUCRETIA Glyndebourne

CUNNING LITTLE VIXEN Glyndebourne

THE TWO FIGAROS UCLA

THE RING CYCLE Seattle Opera dir by Stephen Wadsworth

THE CONSUL Seattle Opera

THE PERFECT AMERICAN English National Opera

ROSSINI by Little Opera Theater NYC

FLY AWAY PETER Sydney Chamber Opera

THE ENCHANTED PIG Young Vic on Broadway

THE RING CYCLE Munich

VENUS IN FUR New York

THE RIVER starring Hugh Jackman New York

A BEHANDING IN SPOKANE New York

LA CAGE AUX FOLLES with Nathan Lane New York

HELLO DOLLY with Bette Midler New York

NEXT TO NORMAL New York

THE MAGIC FLUTE by Barrie Kosky Komische Oper Berlin

THE RISE AND FALL OF THE CITY OF MAHOGONNY by Barrie Kosky Komische Oper Berlin

4:48 PSYCHOSIS Prototype Festival NYC

THE ADDAMS FAMILY New York

THE FRONT PAGE New York

ALL THE WAY New York

BENGAL TIGER AT THE BAGHDAD ZOO with Robin Williams New York

BILLY BUDD Glyndebourne

THE CUNNING LITTLE VIXEN Glyndebourne

SAUL Glyndebourne

THE RAPE OF LUCRETIA Glyndebourne

TRISTAN & ISOLDE ENO

THE PLACE WHERE YOU STARTED Mark Weiser Helix/Los Angeles

DIE WALKURE with Placido Domingo Los Angeles

CAPRICCIO with Renee Fleming The Met NY

Don't just bring 'the voice'...

FOR NEW - AND ASPIRING - ACOCO RISING ARTISTS:

If opera singing doesn’t connect with the very essence of the performer, as a human being with a story not just to be told but to be lived and felt and shared - and for that raw feeling to be poured out - the singer can impress, inspire, entertain - but still leave people cold. It’s a wasted opportunity - for everyone, and for the art form.

Every element of opera performance is about capturing the feeling, grasping the intention, making the connection. 

Everything learned from University, from teaching, classes and research - it has no artistic value unless it is connected to communication. For a complex character - audiences want their thoughts, breaths and journey - not ‘just’ the music/text/your voice.

If you don’t do that pre-work: the imagining, thinking, crafting - and you think your sound and musical preparation is enough, we may as well all go home now. We are here - as opera artists -  to make a difference; not to coast by feeling comfortable and safe in what we’ve learned.  

We need to take all that we’ve mastered - the instrument, the tools, the materials, and apply our own unique, laser focused drive to communicate - beyond the singularity of words, music and action. It’s a combination of voice quality and creative flair with applied thoughts and authentic commitment that wins people over. 

Perform as if your life depends on every phrase. Because in many ways, it does.

Opera and injustice

For the past ten or so years, we’ve been hearing a common refrain from philanthropic bodies, as they (and the general population) become more aware of the failure of government to address social injustice - particularly in access to health, education, and breaking cycles of entrenched generational disadvantage.

Today, I was asked to come up with some on-the-spot thoughts about opera and injustice:

With all the money directed to addressing increased social disadvantage and injustice, it certainly seems - from where I’m at - that the decline in support and valuing of performing arts by government and corporates have relegated so-called ‘elite’ art to entertainment for the privileged - through requiring direct economic benefit or impact from human/artistic endeavour. It is difficult to shake the feeling of ‘failure’ brought about by significant decline of government, philanthropic and corporate support for opera - especially non-mainstream opera.

A recent comment to me, upon being inducted in the Victorian Women’s Honour Roll, that “most of these women get paid extremely well for what they do”, reminded me of my naive student days when I thought that those OAM AM etc letters after a name meant ‘rich’. There is no doubt that recognition is reward in itself - a shot in the arm to keep the drive-hope aflame. Lifting and expanding human sprits for little economic reward requires a constant wiring of the brain to articulate ‘value’ beyond financial capacity or stability. It is undeniably wearing to keep ‘begging’ for support for creative capacity - and a platform for our highly-trained and talented artists and musicians - who were once children at school being given access and opportunities - and told that if they worked hard they would be ‘rewarded’ with careers. Anyone who graduated as a performer since the 1990s is realising that is simply no longer the case in Australia - the overseas talent drain is alive and well in opera, bemoaned since the early 1900s!

After offloading my own sense of injustice in terms of a lack of capacity to do more than I do, there IS potential to put contemporary opera to work in addressing injustice:

Contemporary opera can speak loudly for those whose voices are not heard.

Injustice includes lack of access to transformative and inspiring performing art - classical music - theatre - new ideas. Contemporary opera needs funding to be able to take its messages and its social currency TO audiences - not expect them to come to us.

Opera layers the narrative to convey messaging beyond conscious comprehension - sharing human physiological responses beyond the intellectual. Hair standing on end, heart racing etc - these cannot be faked, or ‘willed’ - they happen in spite of ourselves, and serve as a reminder that we are essentially all the same - human.

Collecting thoughts for a 10minute radio interview

ACOCO sings our stories of today, and tomorrow. 

ACOCO is committed to creating opera that is vivid; reaching the heart of our contemporary, diverse and unknown audience: inspiring anyone. Age, gender, sexuality, cultural background, politics - what does it matter? A human in a seat is what ACOCO wants. An 80 year old or an 18 yo - or anyone - experiencing contemporary opera  by our company for the first time is a win for ACOCO.

Is presenting opera by old dead composers in their original form presenting ‘opera’ or exhibiting nostalgia? Giant retrospectives sell, but do they provoke, propel…?

Contemporary - in presentation, creation, ideas - brings a vitality and even a sense of discomfort - I see that as a driver for human endeavour - conquering, mastering, trying - that’s life-force. I’ve never been one for complacency - or being told not to dream so big. What’s the point in having people with less imagination and courage telling you what will or won’t work? If I’d listened to those types of people - those who played safe and are comfortable only when all around them do the same - I probably wouldn’t have finished high school.

An opera singer may enjoy singing 500 performances of Tosca because it is comfortable, but I’d rather see people step up out of their comfort zones, musically, theatrically - and that also goes for the audience. 

Experimental opera/music theatre is a whole other box - and one I’m happy to leave to other people. My artistic choices are informed by what I like and see to be working elsewhere: stories compelling, music dramatic and effective - and the odd beautiful tune or harmony, rhythm or colour to simply connect instantly with people never goes astray. 

We can revere past generations’ achievements but trying to emulate or aspire to anyone else’s success or path is pointless - the context in which they flourished no longer exists. 

Looking for another Melba or Sutherland is symptomatic of the Australian cultural cringe - subscribing to the ‘old view’ that we’re not any of us worthy unless we can be as it was in the good old days. 

Contemporary opera in America and Europe is exciting - increasingly irreverent, astounding in creativity/artistry, culturally aware and respectful of diversity. 

Here in Australia we have new companies who still set out to do what everyone else is doing - where is the Australian identity and culture in that? Where’s the progress, and the vitality, if we keep doing the same things over and over?

FRANKLY: I’m tired of convincing people that the work we do is worth someone’s time and money - invaluable even - 

If people don’t buy tickets - and stop devaluing the artists by expecting tickets for free or ‘for a bargain’ - they’ll have only mediocre in the future. Quality is backed by foundations, and it costs money. It doesn’t just appear due to talent or instinct, or come out of nowhere. Everyone involved has to become more engaged in getting people into those seats. A name on a brochure, unless a world-leader or influencer, is not going to get people out of their houses. The social aspect needs to be led by everyone - those involved and those who value - to create an inclusive and celebratory atmosphere. Too much sitting back, posting/sharing online, and expecting the world to change - IMHO…

About the works to be presented on Oct 3:

THE LOSER - a flawed human being confiding in each audience member. Some of the details are shocking but you don’t want to miss a word - satirical, surprising and with a biting wit that gives way to cathartic laughter.

TO HELL AND BACK is a more conventional two person dialogue told in present and past tense. A fly-on-the wall view of a complicated relationship between a mother and her daughter-in-law. Both of the beautifully drawn and musically crafted characters make it easy to ask yourself - what would you do?

The nature of the artist

It is important to remind ourselves about why we work so hard, dedicate and sacrifice so much, for very little certainty and security. With the added complication of this widely misunderstood and sometimes maligned art form that is opera - in Australia, in the 21st century.

The pandemic and its associated difficulties have brought about soul-searching and harnessing of purpose like no other. Artists and academics caught floundering in the face of government and societal structures which offered little support for the very nourishment to which most turned during lockdowns. The internet did bring us closer together - connections across continents and collaborations from afar - but opportunities vanished, career trajectories stalled, funds dwindled and earned income vanished: our worth reduced to what we were prepared to sacrifice to keep ‘in the game’. We - artists - face constant existential crises - often asked “as clever people” why we don’t “just do something else”.

In that often-asked (and disrespectful) question lies the difference between artistry and creativity.

Someone suggested recently that essentially, being an artist was simply another creative profession. That personal and financial sacrifices for creative work were a choice, and not necessary: for you could simply apply your ‘creative’ talent to a less-demanding (and commercially-viable) form. It struck me that this attitude is wide-spread - reflected with governments renaming Arts Ministry to Creative Industries, feeding into a lack of understanding and valuing what it means to be AN ARTIST in society - as opposed to a creative professional.

By definition, artistry and artistic ability is the cultivation of skills and talents honed towards creating works of art. In short: art is an original - unique creation, with the intention of sparking an emotion or response in the person watching/listening etc. Creativity and creative ability is defined as the skill of pooling together different elements to find a solution to a problem. A perfect example is advertising - creative thinking and originality geared towards delivering a business result. The two are NOT the same, although they overlap.

Art and creativity share similarities, but the pursuits and deeper skill sets are different. As an opera singer, a belief in the individual voice as unique - both in sound and something to share and say - the belief in one’s worth as AN ARTIST and devotion to the development of artistry is at the core of sustaining motivation.

Call me romantic, but I believe most artists on the other hand are ‘called’. We all call upon creativity in various aspects of our lives, and most certainly complex creative thinking is part of producing any work of art - particularly so for the greatest of all collaborative performing arts: opera. Creativity can be applied, but artistry is, for the most part, other-worldly.

Artists are here, not to solve a problem or produce a commercial result - nor to necessarily ‘make sense’ - we’re here to connect, inspire awe, provoke dialogue, and sometimes, to surprise; othertimes, to charm

“It is one thing to get all the notes right…it is another thing to play the thoughts within the notes, the light around them, the darkness behind them, the silence at the end of the phrase. That is what inspires awe.”

ALEX ROSS, "The Art of Fantasy," The New Yorker, Mar. 17, 2003

CHARM:

To subdue, control, or summon by incantation or supernatural influence; to affect by magic.

Smoke and Mirrors

“15M FOR THE ARTS”, they scream. “SUPPORT FOR ARTISTS” they cry. The media doesn’t report with a critical eye. They print what they’re given - because it has all the hallmarks of a “good news story”.

When I receive the notifications, I hungrily drill down into the detail - pick out the bits that might apply, check the web links (always the announcement is made before the website is updated), look for the support that might mean something to our 12 yo company, and employment for our artists/musicians.

With a lifetime habit of hopefulness, I ignore the rising sense of distress about spending another two days (at least) of what should be artistic, creative, productive time on a grant application designed to be difficult - designed to put off small companies without operational resources.  And, if 1 out of 10 applications happen to be successful, the grant rarely covers any ‘normal’ recompense of time spent in the cycle of apply, communicate, contract, get approval for logo placement and associated creative rationale, change any perceived ‘critical’ program note, report and acquit. 

In the latest Victorian government announcement, it’s pretty clear that the support is for those bigger companies that have the capacity to lobby - to use their might, not for the greater good of the fabric of what used to be called “the creative capital”, but to fight for their own survival - they already get to keep their overheads and administrative machines enabled by multi-year operational funding agreements, which are not available for SMEs.

Drilling down shows that 15M is nowhere near enough.  If the government really wants to help, they could stop with grant applications.  If State and Federal governments can keep putting money directly into accounts on the basis of COVID-19, without tender or recurring applications, then surely arts grant applications can stop too. 

The department could take a look at the arts companies that have been in operation - regardless of size - continuously for the last ten years. Go back to their 2018/2019 income. Give every company 10% of that year’s turnover.  That would be something to get excited about because it would give rise to artistic choices.  

“Mr. Pearson said the changes would apply to large groups such as the Melbourne Theatre Company and the Australian Ballet.

“It’s about allowing them to get back to doing what they do best,” he said”.  

An SME has to apply for max. $10K grant - but the website isn’t updated yet. There are grants for region-based organisations (up to $15k) and disability-led/access-focused organisations. In the early 1990s, when working with Barrie Kosky, he and I were applying for $10k grants.  In real terms today, that is $21,000.  Is it sensible and rational to contemplate another 10-12 page application for ½ the support? 

Recycle the grant material people say. (Each project is different). Use the application you did last time, they say. (The questions/criterion have changed and the project is different).  Isn’t it great about government support for the arts, they say?  

A Media Release grants a government a lot of goodwill. No wonder there are so many announcements.

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Awards can be so rewarding...!

My last post - a very long time ago - was all about the melancholy and sense of loss of live theatre and performance. Obviously, that type of thinking didn’t last long, as we ‘pivoted’ to online delivery of our 3rd Yarra Valley Opera Festival. It is all very well to have bold ideas, but without the extraordinary skill, talent and dedication of the people I am privileged to work - and dream - with, that ‘outlandish’ plan to put our festival pieces online could very well have come to nought. After the initial lockdown in Victoria, and the unfolding real-life drama around the world, with cancelled contracts, travel, opportunities, income, as a producer and leader in the opera - performing arts industry, I felt a responsibility to keep our artistic toes in the water, and maintain a sense of ‘company spirit’, come what may. It was a bigger task than first imagined, as Victoria went into an ongoing, difficult, wintry four-month lockdown, and worse, a 5KM travel limit was put in place. With the Yarra Valley excitingly close to Melbourne for a live festival, as an online event in lockdown, it may as well have been on the other side of the country! But…, we had singers and artists and technicians willing to change modes of delivery - and drones, and cinematographers and editors played a bigger than usual role in creating 10 days of online opera performances.

For singers, the prospect of recording their roles wasn’t a big deal - the challenge was Zoom rehearsals and read-throughs, being isolated in preparation and performance, AND then for most, not being able to record on-site. Sending in audio files and having to re-do, over and over, drew on a level of patience that is easier when you’re in a rehearsal room with others with immediate feedback. The technological requirements stretched new and developing skills - such as padding a wardrobe to attain compatible recording levels, and having an argument imagining your duet partner directly staring down a camera lens, whilst surrounded by 3 microphones recording live to a backing track recorded interstate, or, in the case of Figaroll, in Switzerland! What came through wasn’t just the intrepid nature of 21st-century opera artists, but a spirit of determination and resilience that has come to define ACOCO as a company. We don’t (yet) have government funding for operational costs, or major corporate partnerships, or thanks to COVID, a steady event income. Fortunately for us, we have our artists, musicians, creative minds and our multi-tasking production crew, who are all about excellence, collaboration and courage, and who execute work for minimum award rates and are deserving of much more.

Producing the 2020 Yarra Valley Opera Festival was exhilarating, stressful, inspiring and risky. To be given a Green Room Award for Programming - “for "innovative and adaptive programming, allowing their festival not only to run but to reach new audiences" - is a testament to the wonderful, generous spirits who created the roles, the content and the platforms. We are now looking at ways to incorporate digital and online content to continue to spread access beyond those in our geographic bubble - it was truly gratifying to connect with people profoundly at such a trying time.

Thank you Green Room Association for the award - it came as a big surprise, and appreciated on behalf of everyone involved.

Missing 'the undiscovered'.

I’ve been trying to articulate what is missing for me personally, in the tsunami of online performing arts content - excellent, slick streamed and replayed performances, trained singers in Brady bunch configurations singing sentimental songs, cute snippets of opera singers and celebrities in their ordinary houses singing ordinary songs extraordinarily, people speaking truth to power with friends from their homes without filters, without editing, without quality equipment - fuzzy archival footage (like ours - just a record, a tool for artist reflection) never meant for a public forum, quizzes, links to historical recordings, cheerful, artistic people sharing freshly baked bread pictures and duck ragù recipes - and sorry to say, I feel overwhelmed, and disinclined to listen or watch any more than a tiny portion of any of it.

In amongst all the wonderful outpourings of creativity at my fingertips, it strikes me that I am truly yearning for my music-opera-theatre to be conceived, rehearsed, crafted and delivered for me (amongst others) in a designated performance or theatre space. I’ve seen enough of the inside of peoples’ homes from Grand Designs and aspirational trawls through real estate video brochures.

Richard Brody’s article in The New Yorker has him missing ‘the obscurity of the undiscovered’ in the movie theatre, and it strikes me that ‘the undiscovered’ is what opera - or any live performance - has in spades, over the online variety. One aspect of live performance that we cannot reproduce online is the lack of filter; the element of danger - something could go slightly or ridiculously wrong - and because we have taken away the individual’s capacity to press pause, turn down the volume, get rid of background noise, taken away tools enabling multitasking, we ramp up expectation and potential exhilaration, draw a room full of strangers into an unknown connection or unanticipated effect that comes from the transfer of waves and vibrations in human-with-human contact. An audience member is alone - isolated - usually in a seat - but in the same place as the art - the performances - the vibration - the skill - the shared.

The clamour to be seen ‘being artistic’ online - particularly on social media - probably mirrors how unseen we - the performing arts - are, in the grand scheme of government priorities and understandably, health crisis management.

There is pressure for all arts organisations to join the online chorus - and we’ve put a toe or two in, with another couple to come - so as not to be antisocial, and to maintain some kind of contact - but sigh; Iive is live is live, and I long to be back on the boards with ‘my’ people - on-stage, back-stage off-stage and front-of-stage - being there, together.

The Handmaid’s Tale - Australian Premiere - Ruders/Bentley - 2019

Dream, or despair...

The imposed shut-down of our social lives - particularly, arts and culture, is for me a mixed blessing; in the sense that time at home gives rise to dreaming and creativity, and time at home also indicates a real and worrying loss of income. I find I have 9.6 weeks of long service leave accrued, which may be helpful in keeping our NFP afloat in a time where we are unable to present our regular public performance program, but nevertheless, the uncertainty and incapacity to plan - with the downward curve of the pandemic expected sooner than the upward curve of the economy - well, we all know even with a projected budget surplus where funding for the arts was going, so a recession with or without a virus is, to put it mildly, not great.

I started an opera company/studio at the beginning of the GFC in 2009. Took the risk, worked almost without stopping for ten years+, and we’re still standing, as the song goes.

Someone I know said that I chose to work in this field, and the fact that he earns 5 times as much as I do is justified; essentially, because he doesn’t enjoy his work as much as its perceived I enjoy mine. On the enjoyment scale, I concede that at times, mine

is likely well and truly off the scale - and I like the thought that for people participating - performing and watching - that their enjoyment factor is off-the-scale also. The inherent risk in choosing to work in live performance is of course, now coming to pass - risk we’ve kept (mostly…) in check through imagination and efficiency.

Now that we’ve lost our live, pulsating, cheering, tingling audience - for the time-being - and we’ve lost our so-called ‘earned’ income, it shines a bright light on our donors and supporters, who enable our work to carry on behind the scenes - learning music, imagining and planning productions, formulating schedules and marketing materials - and continuing to nourish our Studio Young Artists with advice, repertoire, coaching and hope.

Lockdown is coming. We are naturally concerned about how - and how long - we will need to keep the public and the wolves from the door.