We wanted an opportunity for more flexible seating so you could have different configurations — we wanted technical upgrades and general upgrades also. Later we recognized the need in the community to have a dance-friendly space. So that’s a need that we’ve found and added. Like with any kind of process, I think we started with an idea and started to break that down. I think we’re still in that process.
To return to a Canada still starved of this normalcy feels wrong; acrid; frustrating. When I get back to Toronto (or, let’s be real, North York), I’ll simply have to tell my friends and colleagues about the magic of a packed theatre, rows and rows of masks, applause, closeness. They won’t get to feel it themselves for a few months yet, it seems
I say this over and over, but saying no is the only power you have as an actor. At least if you lose the job, you can lose it on your own terms, and not theirs. And I’m not speaking in theory here, I’m speaking from experience. I’ve been asked twice to re-audition for projects over the years. I said no both times. One time they kept me. One time they didn’t. Life went on just fine both times.
“We need to re-establish a dialogue with our spectators. We need to establish a creative dialogue with them. The community of spectators and artists need to be together and have an exchange. It’s about bringing people outside, and making people safe, of course, but leading them to the threshold, to let go, to walk towards the unknown.”
“I mean… what does it actually look like to create work? To produce work? To move into a production? We’re constantly working with these finite resources — time, money, space — and so a lot of our internal reflection has been looking at how do we make this process of making and sharing art more human? More flexible, more adaptable to being a human?”