My first play, ever, was a one hander with two characters called Come Back to the 7-11, Judy Blume, Judy Blume. It was about a sixteen year old girl, who I played. I still look back on it as some of the theatre making that I'm most proud of. I... [read more]

My first play, ever, was a one hander with two characters called Come Back to the 7-11, Judy Blume, Judy Blume. It was about a sixteen year old girl, who I played. I still look back on it as some of the theatre making that I'm most proud of. I also know that it very likely would never - then or now - find a home anywhere but the Fringe.

My memories of the Fringe on Main St. are fond and foggy. I remember loads of people at the Fringe club, excitedly talking about what they'd seen over pitchers of beer. I was one of those people. Lots of talk. Lots of pitchers. Apparently there... [read more]

My memories of the Fringe on Main St. are fond and foggy. I remember loads of people at the Fringe club, excitedly talking about what they'd seen over pitchers of beer. I was one of those people. Lots of talk. Lots of pitchers. Apparently there was food, too, but who remembers that...I guess if you completely remember the early days of The Fringe you weren't really there.

One night while performing The Queens at Heritage Hall, the lighting board imploded. And there we were, a group of actors dressed up like various old Victorian Queens, exposed in the harsh house lights pushing around the humongous plaster walls of the set, trying to make it look ghostly and magical and easy....! We did the show in house lights, and got a standing ovation. For effort. And we loved it. And we loved doing The Fringe. Happy Birthday Fringe Festival, and here's to many more!

Diane Brown
Artistic Director
Ruby Slippers Theatre

1986: The Show that wouldn't end. Mobius Performing Group from Boston Mass. was a wonderful company that I first saw at the Western Front and begged them to apply and come to the Fringe. This was performance art...edgy, literate, profound. In... [read more]

1986: The Show that wouldn't end. Mobius Performing Group from Boston Mass. was a wonderful company that I first saw at the Western Front and begged them to apply and come to the Fringe. This was performance art...edgy, literate, profound. In their show In The Flesh at the Grunt Gallery they baked hair in bread in a toaster oven, cut and hung pieces of fish and graced the stage to create a feast for the senses. The show I was most interested in seeing if it could work in a fringe setting was Persephone & Hades a two person show - one actor on continuous text sits at a desk looking into a mirror while a woman floats in movement. The show was manipulated by audience members hanging cardboard symbols the size of tarot cards in a small opening of a gauze wall surrounding the performers. Audience could hang one or several symbols and then ring a bell which would be the signal for performers to to look and see what they were being told to do next. The actor sitting and looking in the mirror would see the directions and move to new text and the woman would turn her gaze to the opening and receive her new movement/direction. The show was a lesson in understanding, cooperation and communication of the sublime. The play would only end when the audience decides it to end it by presenting the proper sequence of symbols signifying so.
This show always had to be the last show of the night and so started usually at either 10:30 or 11 pm or Midnight. On what I think was their last performance of the Fringe they began their show at midnight. At 2am the show was still in full force. By 3am most audience had left. By 4am one audience member remained who was either stoned on Acid or totally into the manipulation and dominance of this event. The performers were exhausted. Fringe venue tech was exhausted and everyone had had enough. The sun was rising and at 5am the show had to end. It was the first time that Fringe organizers had to stop a show. I wish that I could say it was the last but it wasn't and that's another story.

What better way to see the country than a Fringe Tour?

In the middle of my Montreal run of ‘Bye Bye Bombay’ I was forced to spend my day off traveling to Ottawa to tech my show for the next Festival on the circuit. The Fringes... [read more]

What better way to see the country than a Fringe Tour?

In the middle of my Montreal run of ‘Bye Bye Bombay’ I was forced to spend my day off traveling to Ottawa to tech my show for the next Festival on the circuit. The Fringes were kind enough to hook up several fringe artists who had to make the same pilgrimage for a technical rehearsal of their shows.

Multi-media genius Barry Smith picked me up and I was introduced to Ricardo and Julie the ‘Flamenco Confusion’. The four of us set off in Barry’s big white ‘Shaggin’ Waggin’ into the thick of Montreal’s rush hour traffic. Things were going great until we came to a blind corner in the middle of the highway, that’s when the truck decided to cut out.

Barry didn’t seem particularly surprised, he just smiled and explained that ‘sometimes she does this.’ He then smiled and turned the key. Several turns later and the engine was still not responding except with moans. Ricardo, Julie and I tried not to look too nervous as we looked out onto the traffic narrowly swerving around the stalled van, Quebecers hurling insults at us. This whole fiasco went on for a good twenty minutes. Barry explaining that the car just needed a few moments, trying to start the car all the while we were holding our breath.

Finally a police car showed up, got out and started placing safely flares around the broken down vehicle to warn the oncoming traffic of our unfortunate situation. Just as the cop began approaching the driver’s window Barry desperately tried the ignition one last time. With a belch and a puff of black smoke the Shaggin’ Waggins’ engine started up. We continued on our journey to Ottawa leaving the cop behind. Barry just smiled and gently patted the dashboard of the Van.

We all sat silently stunned until we made it safely to Ottawa. Technical rehearsals were done and we drove back to Montreal, no one mentioned the Van breaking down earlier that day in fear of jinxing the journey.

The Van didn’t break down again on that trip back to Montreal. In fact it didn’t break down again until I was hitching a ride from Saskatoon to Calgary with Mr. Smith. This part of the story involves a tow truck and garage. I’ll spare you the details but the Van did eventually make it all the way to Vancouver, the end of the line on the great Canadian Fringe Tour.

For fifteen years, I have wended my way through the Fringe, from volunteer, to ( by virtue of a long background in the arts, as a publicist), Communications Director, to Board member to Vice-President and finally for three years, President. I... [read more]

For fifteen years, I have wended my way through the Fringe, from volunteer, to ( by virtue of a long background in the arts, as a publicist), Communications Director, to Board member to Vice-President and finally for three years, President. I have followed the Fringe from its beginnings on Main Street to Commercial Drive to Granville Island. Through the years I have rated experiences as "greater than my life" (no matter how great my life was at any given time). The Fringe has provided some of these moments. During 14-hour days of Festival frenzy, there were those little escapes to see a little gem of a show from which I might emerge laughing or crying or just "feeling" - to get back to the frenzy of work. I am grateful for the fascinating interactions I've had with artists, production crew, staff, sponsors, media, audiences and volunteers - that wonderful dedicated group that assembled each year to make our lives easier and the Fringe a success.

Congratulations to Joanna Moratta for starting it all.

Happy 25th Fringe!

I remember my first Fringe fondly. It was such a bold undertaking and I was excited by the prospect of being able to put my raggle taggle skill set to good use. (I’d recently arrived from St. John’s, Newfoundland, where you really DID have... [read more]

I remember my first Fringe fondly. It was such a bold undertaking and I was excited by the prospect of being able to put my raggle taggle skill set to good use. (I’d recently arrived from St. John’s, Newfoundland, where you really DID have to do a little bit of everything to make it as an artist). And then over the years, I began to understand that the Fringe was my chance to take a risk, both in terms of the work that I was making and in terms of the work that I was seeing. The financial investment wasn’t huge – so you really could get your hands dirty and mess around with form, and find creative ways of staging things. It was like hanging out on a big, creative playground with all the cool kids.


So I vowed that I would participate in every Fringe until I was eligible for the “free coffee for seniors deal-io at the golden arches”. And then the strangest thing happened – I started getting older. And I found that I wasn’t quite as adept at sweet-talking friends with cars into moving my sets, and rehearsing in living rooms, and living on cigarettes and strong, strong coffee. (Jacques Lalonde, how DO you do it year after year??? You are a MACHINE!!!) And then real life took over, and film school, and real jobs, and before I knew it, a few years had passed and I hadn’t made good on my promise! But I still cherish those Fringe years and some of the work that came out of them. I can look back and truly say that they were so very fulfilling.


I do occasionally dangle my toes in the sweet, sweet water called the Fringe and help a friend with a show from time to time. And I do look with absolute joy and gratitude towards the legions of “young-ens” who have come up through the ranks. To all of you I say – THIS is your theatre vacation, in which you get to follow your heart and take risks and make work that you will still hold dear to you for years to come. You will make connections, you will make lifelong friends, you will make personal and artistic discoveries, you will learn that you DO have the power to move creative mountains, and you may find yourself sitting there 25 years from now writing similar words about the 50th anniversary....