Bert Spinks

A side-effect of my fixation with reading history is that I often find myself framing my life, as it is now, with the question of how I will look back on it – or how it will be viewed by some other future observer. It’s not entirely fair to be judged in hindsight – although we do it all the time to those who pre-existed us – but perhaps this attempt to step back, as if at a chronological distance, gives us a chance to look at our own contexts more broadly.

So I have a nagging sense about how we’ll be criticised for our way of living through these decades, as the reality of the impending ecological crises sets in. We have now known for long enough what’s on the cards, but we’ve done little to alter our lifestyles or attitudes.

Such is the dark cloud that I sometimes bring into a festive setting. I’m thankful that artists, performers and writers are willing to tackle the difficult topics, just as preoccupied with disconcerting questions as I am. With Ten Days on the Island around the corner, I decided to chat with some of performers and directors involved. What was the point of all this making of art, I wondered, and at our getting together to watch and listen to it?

Hannah Moloney
Image by: Natalie Mendham

Speaking with permaculturalist Hannah Moloney was an instant antidote to any fatalism I might have had; she’s allergic to doom and gloom. For this year’s festival, Hannah’s staging a ‘climate justice cabaret’ called Time Rebel. It’ll be fun but it’s not pure escapism. “There’s no beating around the bush,” she assured me, “but there’s singing and dancing.” She’ll be backed by a big choir and accompanied by playful props.

If you’ve seen Hannah, you’ll know that her positivity is a force to be reckoned with, but it’s grounded in practicality – “pragmatic idealism”, she calls it. Her confident hope is that we’ll all leave Time Rebel with a better idea of how we can be ecological activists in our own ways. But the only way to make a different, she asserts, is together.

The “sheer power of gathering” is also central to Tasdance’s offering for the festival, Beacon, a free gig in Launnie’s Civic Square. Adam Wheeler and Emma Porteus have been directing a crew of sixty dancers as they investigate where hope can be found in difficult times. The dancers are from every age bracket and a handful of professionals are working among community participants, creating a special mixture of energy, enthusiasm and experience.

Adam Wheeler, Simon McKenzie, Emma Porteus

Adam and Emma said that the rehearsal process has been as emotionally stirring as they’ve seen in any of their many previous productions. With each dancer given the chance to enter into deep conversation

s together, they’re subsequently moving through issues through their bodies. Adam points out that it’s a helpful way to “not get stuck”; those who have gone through big seasons of melancholy will know how easily that can happen. The performers can work together to shift into a different mental space and focus on what’s in their control. Wonderfully, this vulnerable work will be shared with varying audiences in a public space. It’s a gift to Launceston that shouldn’t be missed.

The show Wilds, by circus duo ROOKE, will approach the relationship between humanity and the Earth in a different way. Freyja and Conor Wild will work with a huge pile of soil – a fitting way, I reckon, to redress the human-centric nature of many of our gatherings. Freyja and Conor have gone to great lengths to find the right collaborator, rehearsing with different soil types until they found the perfect match. After all, it’s a physically intimate relationship; there are a lot of challenges that come from working directly with soil, but as I watched Freyja tend to their bed the other day, it was clear that they’d made a satisfactory choice.

Freyja and Conor Wild

The show itself will come at our ecological issues from a left-of-centre way — including some humorous anthropomorphisation, with the performers taking on the characters of both our planet and our species in different scenes. A show like ‘Wilds’ – which is physical, unpredictable and comedic – might help us think about own ecological relationships in a different light.

Among other things, Freyja went on, live performance brings people out of their bubbles, into contact with real people, where they can participate in genuine ideas and explore their own feelings. It’s what keeps me wanting to present work in the public realm too. A festival may well have plenty of fun and frivolity, but it’s not escapism. In our best moments, performers can find imaginative ways to share what climate scientists have been saying, or to put a case forward on behalf of ecosystems and other species.

“Art changes people’s hearts,” Hannah Moloney tells me. I tend to agree. Sharing moments with performers and audience members alike can give us all the courage and creative energy to tackle our biggest problems and take on the future.