A Letter for 20 YRS
This fall, I spent several weeks in Montreal, finishing up a creation project with students at the National Theatre School. Fall is a pretty nice time to be in Montreal — you see the colours changing, the cold and snow has not yet blanketed the city; people are out and about. Although it’s the city I’ve probably travelled to the most over the last three years, this time around I noticed something different, energetically speaking. The artscene felt very buzzy and alive; walking to and from rehearsal every day, you couldn’t help but run into it, whether it was a crowd that was dispersing outside one of the many live theatres, or a pop-up performance in a public plaza, or a public art installation in the middle of a crosswalk. I hung out with a colleague there and commented to them about this, to which they replied, “Oh yes… we are totally back.”
Earlier this year, I visited the UK for the first time since before the pandemic. I was pitching one of our shows at an international conference that was taking place alongside the Manchester International Festival. While there, I attended as many shows as I could, all across the city.
Manchester is a 15-minute city (or that’s the idea anyway), so it was easy to walk to and from the different venues and locations, with events taking place in museums, on city streets, in businesses, and in the many inspiring performance spaces they have there. And as important as seeing the shows were the gathering spots in and around these venues, which were very buzzy. After MIF I headed to London, and revelled at the sense of being in a real art town (buzz buzz). It’s easy to get very lost in the absolute abundance of shows to see; I made my picks by choosing ones that I knew would probably never come to Vancouver.
In these cities, you can feel and see how arts and culture connect them. I suppose it’s very easy to be inspired by other places — cities that are not your own; they always seem a bit cooler somehow. I think it’s also very easy to feel critical about your own city, especially now, as those of us working in the live performing arts might feel daunted by post-pandemic recovery in our own communities, as well as the responsibilities that artists and the arts sector are taking on right now. Art is meant to be a reflection of what’s happening in the world, and artists are increasingly called upon to speak to ideas and issues that other sectors don’t come close to addressing. (Maybe, like me, you have friends and family members who work in other industries who are impressed by the dinner convos, where you talk about the policies, the strategies, the learning, the calls to action.) I’m protective of the arts community here; I’m proud to live in a city where the arts are leading these conversations, but I also hope it’s recognized that being a living and breathing artist in 2023 means that, by nature, reflecting the world is a part of the art — in fact, it’s irremovable. And that artists can follow their impulses and make art that inspires them and makes them better artists. I saw and felt this happening in those other cities, and believe me, all the ideas were there — and they were strong because they were specific and unique and diverse, and were in a complex conversation with each other. In a world that often feels like it’s disintegrating, I still believe it’s these convos that have the power to move us and to heal us and to change us.
These last few years shifted so many things; it propelled a big transition here at Theatre Replacement that has meant the company is entering a new era, as we reach this incredible milestone of 20 years. For me, it has meant that my work here has been all about embracing the changes and doing everything I can to make this moment about renewal. And that has meant being super intentional not only about the projects and programs we’re producing, but also about the contexts we’re making them in and for. Which can feel difficult as the contexts are also continually shifting. It has meant trying to see the city from a different perspective, too. Recognizing what we were, seeing what we are now, and moving towards what we can become.
I’m writing this from the rehearsal hall of the East Van Panto, in between singing silly songs and trying desperately to remember choreography, watching my fellow performers with awe and laughing and trying things, trying anything — and failing a lot of the time. And I’m letting go of my Artistic Director brain a little, and thinking about what this show is, and how I can make it the best it can be from my little corner. It’s wacky and wild, and if I zoom out, I’m also seeing a work that is so much about this place, this city, this neighbourhood. And there are problems, and there are skunks stinking up the place — but there are also possibilities and understanding, and there’s love. It’s pretty buzzy. Spending my days in this room full of cool intergenerational artists and people and children, all doing their best and following their noses to tell this story as best they can has been deeply and personally renewing for me in this moment. It’s been an excellent reminder of why I love this hood, this community, this city, and this company. Happy birthday, TR; thanks for absolutely everything — it’s been a privilege and an honour. And thanks to all of you who have helped us get to 20 — feels good.
xo Maiko
