Alone Together: Mimi Mok

I think I miss the TTC.

It’s weird because I really can’t say I have great memories of being on the TTC. The experience had been emotionally neutral, at best.

So I tried to figure out why.

A map of Toronto showing the stops along the TTC
“I miss the small daily gestures I perform to be one with a group of people I don’t know, the rituals that signal a collective order.”

I came across the work of archaeologist and anthropologist Monica L. Smith, a historian who does research on ancient cities and their household activities. In her view, cities are the first permanent places where people willingly live among strangers. Though cities are relatively new in our history, as a man-made construct it has enjoyed immense longevity, because cities never stop evolving.

Ancient cities, just like ours today, come alive from the interplay between People, Places, and the resultant Possibilities. Cities change because people are constantly adapting existing infrastructure to their needs, and new things are always built-in the footsteps of the old.

So what I miss is probably not the TTC per se. I’ve lived in cities all my life and for the first time, I have not had daily interactions with people I don’t know. I haven’t shared looks of resignation with strangers at a bus stop for a few weeks now. I haven’t been part of the pack on escalators during rush hour, walking past people who choose to stand still for a moment on the left. I miss the small daily gestures I perform to be one with a group of people I don’t know, the rituals that signal a collective order, however fleeting, is in place.

When my various roles in life were abruptly compressed and crammed into a one-bedroom apartment that is my personal space, it’s no longer obvious how my actions are still part of a bigger whole.

So I was relieved to find hope in Monica Smith’s work, for “if a city is never finished, then there is hope for making things better than what we inherited.” For as long as I’m a part of this city, it’s okay for me to stand still for a while, as long as the city doesn’t.

Cities: The First 6,000 Years” from The Long Now Foundation, Monica L. Smith
* Listen to the podcast
* Watch the video

— Mimi Mok

Mimi is the Business & Development Director at The Theatre Centre

Alone Together is a series of shared stories by The Theatre Centre. Over the next several weeks, our team is going to offer you some of our own personal joys, those things that nudge us, the arms that extend to us in the dark, those things that catch our hearts off guard. And we’d love to hear from you in return… what’s blowing your heart open these days?

Alone Together: Liza Paul

Simple pleasures are the things I find myself really savouring these days. Beyond every day music, some days sunshine, and laughter at any moment, food and drinks are the things that are getting me through. I am so fortunate as to be able to indulge almost every culinary whim that strikes, so I will share some with you in the hopes that maybe some of them will bring you happiness, too.

These days I try to pretend that I’m at a cottage and that’s why I don’t go anywhere. I am seized by random urges to make perfect snacks at odd moments: melba toast with fluffy cream cheese, a perfectly portioned sliver of smoked salmon, fresh lemon and a sprig of dill has been a big winner—satisfying on so many levels. The creamy, the crunchy, the sour, the savoury. gotDAMN that snack does it for me. Side note: melba toast is the bomb. I forgot about melba toast! I LOVE MELBA TOAST!

Also: strawberries. chocolate dipped and rolled in chopped walnuts and eaten while the chocolate is still warm. Just warm, though—I made the mistake of biting into one while the chocolate was hot and the burn on my tongue haunted me for days.

Also: ackee and saltfish and a golden piece of toast with salted butter and avocado on the side. bonus: if you skip the toast, it’s ketogenic! hahahahaha what even is that. this is the apocalypse. no one cares.

An orange cocktail with mint leaves on top, on a countertop with bottles in the background
“I’ve always been dedicated to cocktails. I just haven’t had so much time and opportunity to dedicate to the singular pursuit thereof”

And the cocktails! i don’t think i’ve ever been so dedicated to cocktails in my life. that’s a lie, actually. i’ve always been dedicated to cocktails. i just haven’t had so much time and opportunity to dedicate to the singular pursuit thereof and also been in the x-tendamix position of not needing to drive anywhere ever. if you are in the mood to make yourself something fancy and you happen to have the seven ingredients you’ll need on hand, the recipe for my current fave awaits you at the bottom of this essay. and if you are looking for recipes for any of my other favourite isolation food and drink, hit me up. i’ve got time to share.

bougie berry bevvie* (i just made that up. call it whatever you want)
one large sliced strawberry
juice of half a lemon
1.5 oz gin
.5 oz st. germain elderflower liqueur
splash of rose
soda water to top
ice

In a cocktail shaker, muddle the strawberry, add the lemon, the gin, the elderflower, the splash of rose and then some ice. Stir it. Taste it (do you like it? does it want more of anything? Add it! now is the time!). Strain it into a beautiful glass over ice (the type of beautiful glass you choose is entirely up to you—whatever lights you up), top with a splash of soda and get to sippin’.

*note: you’ll probably want to drink more than one (recommend!), but be aware that once you start drinking these, you might develop a hot foot and want to go somewhere. you can’t go anywhere. you’ll be drunk. you might get careless and practice unsafe covid hygiene. chill. listen to another song. keep your crease at home.

— Liza Paul

Liza is the Café/Bar Curator and Manager at The Theatre Centre

Alone Together is a series of shared stories by The Theatre Centre. Over the next several weeks, our team is going to offer you some of our own personal joys, those things that nudge us, the arms that extend to us in the dark, those things that catch our hearts off guard. And we’d love to hear from you in return… what’s blowing your heart open these days?

Alone Together: Rachel Penny

My mom has a beautiful habit, every spring and summer, of sharing her glee when things begin to turn green again. We’ll be driving or walking along somewhere and she’ll burst out “look at all this GREEN! We can finally exhale, spring has, in fact, returned!”. It’s a habit I’ve adopted—when the seasons turn and the world seems to be waking up I walk around feeling a concussive awe at the fact that it’s all happening again.

Every spring I worry that I’m going to miss it—that I won’t pay enough attention to the new growth happening all around me, and it will be over before I’ve been able to be a good witness. The long daily walks that have now become a part of my routine have eased this feeling a little. I’m grateful for the chance to really take in my neighbourhood’s beautiful gardens, to be tuned in to the subtle shifts in what’s growing. It’s been a balm to see all the greens (and yellows and blues and purples and reds) in my neighbours’ gardens, so lovingly tended, but the plant that has stopped me in my tracks (now, lately, always) is actually an evergreen, constant all winter.

The Golden Thread Cypress is a portal and a source: it generates its own light. The golden colour of the needles shifts with every new angle, un-pin-down-able. It is brimming with its own aliveness. I’m convinced that if you listened closely, you might hear a faint electric buzz coming from the tip of each needle. Taking time with this shrub opens something up in my chest and reminds me that I’m also rooted into the earth, permeable and part of an endless exchange of energy—of magic.

 

And when I pause, I listen more carefully—tuning in to the deep thrumming sound that’s out there, the energy of constant renewal and light that’s passing through us all.

— Rachel Penny

Rachel Penny is a performing arts producer currently participating in The Theatre Centre’s Creative Producer Training Program.

 

Alone Together is a series of shared stories by The Theatre Centre. Over the next several weeks, our team is going to offer you some of our own personal joys, those things that nudge us, the arms that extend to us in the dark, those things that catch our hearts off guard. And we’d love to hear from you in return… what’s blowing your heart open these days?

Hope is a dangerous thing

Black and white photo of the riser seating in the Franco Boni Theatre.

Last week was a difficult week.

Were it not for COVID-19, most of The Theatre Centre’s Sea Sick team – Alanna Mitchell, Melissa Joakim, Franco Boni, Ravi Jain, Rebecca Picherack, Sascha Cole and myself – would have been in England, preparing the show for its London Premiere. Tonight was to be our opening night.

Our losses began with the abrupt cancellation, mid-run, of Daughter by Adam Lazarus at the Battersea Arts Centre in London in March. Two weeks into a four-week run, Canada was calling us home rather urgently. After hours-long conference calls, we formally closed The Theatre Centre’s building – our bustling community hub – to the public. At the time, we were talking about a closure into early April, and here we are, facing May, with no real sense as to when we’ll be reopening.

I’ve been the bearer of a lot of bad news to my team, as national and international dates for Sea Sick have continued to be cancelled. After the National Theatre, Sea Sick was meant to have its American premiere at the Spoleto Festival in South Carolina. We were going to have a fabulous homecoming at The Theatre Centre in June, in association with the Luminato Festival. From there, we were off to the International Festival of Arts & Ideas in New Haven, Connecticut. All cancelled.

And with each cancellation comes phone calls from producers and artistic directors around the world who are dealing with their own crushing heartbreak as they close their beloved venues, or cancel the festivals they’ve been working toward for an entire year. I feel their losses, I empathise with their grief, I share their fear about the future.

And these are losses. We can grieve the tragic loss of life around the world and close to home. We can be afraid for loved ones who risk their lives every day to work in essential roles that keep our world moving. And, we can grieve the loss of opportunities, the loss of physical contact with people we love, the loss of coming together in celebration and mourning.

We’re also experiencing what’s called ambiguous loss… we’re grieving things we haven’t yet lost, but that seem to be disappearing from a future that feels totally uncertain.

But there’s something in that uncertainty I’m holding onto these days. For the first time in a long time, for me, the future feels inventable, rather than inevitable.

We’ve all heard a massive untruth uttered in recent weeks, that the pandemic is a great “equalizer”; a virus that doesn’t discriminate between rich and poor, doesn’t care about borders, is not interested in racial, cultural, or religious differences. While all that may be true, the virus has amplified all the ways in which this idea of equality is false. We are seeing those with some of the lowest paying, most precarious jobs, now relied upon as essential to keeping society going. And while the virus may not target traditionally marginalized groups, the effects of the virus certainly highlight a multitude of social inequalities.

But we’re also seeing some of our governments respond in exciting ways. Who could have imagined the Canadian Emergency Response Benefit even just a couple of months ago, paving the way toward real conversations about Universal Basic Income? Who could have imagined governments all over the world, calling on communities to band together for the greater good? Who could have imagined the majority of those communities being willing to give up personal wants, needs, and desires to work toward that greater good? Who could have imagined Doug Ford calling protesters of those efforts, a “bunch of yahoos”? (Okay, so we can all imagine Doug Ford calling protesters “yahoos”.)

The most fascinating thing about these recent measures, is that they prove what’s possible when we collectively agree to work together. It signifies the possibility of a massive cultural shift. And particularly fascinating to me personally, is that it’s causing me to… hope. For someone with a weakness for 24/7 Sylvia Plath-ing*, hope feels unusual.

Which brings me back to Sea Sick. If you’ve seen the show, then you know the stakes of the climate crisis. You know that our global ocean is becoming warm, breathless, and sour. You know that 50 per cent of our oxygen comes from the ocean, and that if everything in the ocean dies tomorrow, we die too. You know this. We know this. But you also know that Sea Sick’s author and performer, Alanna Mitchell, has hope for the future: “Adapt and survive. It’s the essence of Darwin’s teachings and our species is really good at it. Write a new ending. Live to tell another tale.”

At the end of every performance of Sea Sick, Alanna stands before the audience and takes questions. Usually the first to be asked is, “what can I do??”, and Alanna will say “I hope you lie awake all night thinking about that” (which is an answer I love). But she also talks about the huge cultural shift that needs to take place to address this crisis. It’s not about individual effort, but collective effort. The solutions to this crisis do exist, but it’s going to take huge political will to put those solutions into place.

Many things our governments are doing to mobilize against this virus are the very things environmental activists have been calling for for years. I have to admit, I don’t know that I ever believed we could do it. I was touring across the world with Alanna Mitchell, not really believing this massive cultural shift was possible— that we were capable of it. But I loved Alanna’s hope, I thought it was hugely important to put her knowledge and her hope in front of audiences around the world – I could see the impact of her hope on other people.

So, here I am. With the privilege of my position, I am working safely from home. I live alone with two cats. The feelings of isolation come and go. And between the zoom meetings, conference calls, and online cocktail hours, I find the time to grieve. I’m mourning things I hadn’t had time before to mourn, I’m grieving the lost opportunities for The Theatre Centre’s artists, communities and staff, and I’m grieving things we’ve yet to lose. I’m grieving the loss of life – both known to me, and unknown.

I’m also hoping. And along with hope comes some conspiring… colluding… collaborating. It’s time to take what we’re experiencing in this moment— this time of seeing what’s possible, this time of personal sacrifice for greater good— to take what we are learning and apply it. What kind of world do we want when this is all over? The greatest loss for me would be to see us come out of this unchanged… so let’s invent the future.

Hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have
But I have it*

Stay tuned…

*Apologies to Lana Del Rey for this gentle theft.

— Aislinn Rose
General and Artistic Director
The Theatre Centre

Alone Together: Kyle Purcell

I like to cook, but I am no baker. See exhibit A:

A hand holding a cookie, showing the top view and the bottom view of the cookie is burnt.

That was my attempt at chocolate chip cookies. I figured I couldn’t really screw those up. I was wrong. But I still ate them (all two dozen). So I’ve basically just stuck to cooking. However, there is one thing that I started baking for St. Patrick’s Day three or four years ago and I make it every year: Irish Soda Bread.

Close up of a round loaf for baked bread with a cross pattern scored into the top, on a wooden table
“Whether it’s at my grandparents’ table in their chilly kitchen or close to a fire in a cozy pub, the smell of soda bread makes me think of rolling green hills and good cheer.”

This is a truly special bread, it’s not only delicious, but it’s also very comforting. There is something about the taste, and more so the smell, that instantly transports me to Ireland. Whether it’s at my grandparents’ table in their chilly kitchen or close to a fire in a cozy pub, the smell of soda bread makes me think of rolling green hills and good cheer. If you’ve never had it, my writing will be insufficient to describe how truly great this bread can be. It’s dense, hearty, sweet, and delicious. Add Irish butter — rich, creamy, and inexplicably golden – and that’s all you need, all day, every day. Oh, and it’s really easy to make.

Since all this began, and I’ve been isolated at home, I’ve been baking this bread. The smell of fresh-baked bread filling my apartment feels like a warm (and delicious) blanket wrapping around me. So yes, now I am amongst the countless other home bakers who have bought up all the flour (though no yeast is required!) and started making bread at home. Sorry.

Here is a simple recipe from a great little site, The Society for the Preservation of Irish Soda Bread. They take their bread seriously: “Flour, Salt, Baking Soda, Buttermilk. Anything else added makes it a Tea Cake!” In addition to a few recipes, there is a bit of history (including, get this! the oldest reference to a published soda bread recipe…can you even?!?). So you also get some great reading while your bread is baking and that sweet, sweet aroma fills the air.

— Kyle Purcell

Kyle Purcell is the Manager of Marketing and Communications at The Theatre Centre.

Alone Together is a series of shared stories by The Theatre Centre. Over the next several weeks, our team is going to offer you some of our own personal joys, those things that nudge us, the arms that extend to us in the dark, those things that catch our hearts off guard. And we’d love to hear from you in return… what’s blowing your heart open these days?

Alone Together: Tamara Jones

“I keep turning back to words to help me make sense of the world and my place in it. I ingest them restlessly as if I’m looking for something specific — some bit of truth, wisdom or validation.”

Illustration of person with dark hair holding their face, looking at a screen with a yellow sun, pink clouds, and purple sky.
Illustration by Charlotte Mei for The Vault

I spend a lot of time with words — words on screens, paper, filling silence, sprinting from earbud to eardrum. On any given day, I toggle between up to 20 internet browser tabs. My #WFH set-up consists of Slack, Hootsuite, Zoom and a chaotic “drafts” document, followed by a collection of essays and articles I methodically make my way through over the course of each week. My 132 GB iPhone is almost full, mostly of photos and podcasts, and my weekly usage stats are recklessly high. Books and magazines are stored all over my room underlined and dog-eared, with receipts, tickets, and sometimes the odd wrapper saving my place.

I’m not sure if I actually enjoy the process of reading or listening, but I keep turning back to words to help me make sense of the world and my place in it. I ingest them restlessly as if I’m looking for something specific — some bit of truth, wisdom or validation. My favourite tarot card reader Jessica Dore once wrote, “Myths and old stories can feel a bit like wise elders. They remind us what we are both too young in the Spirit to know and old enough in the Soul to understand.” I think the stories we tell each other have the power to do that too.

I’m reminded of it whenever I read bell hooks. I can pinpoint it in three passages of Ongoingness by Sarah Manguso. I feel it when I hear queer or racialized femme writers from my favourite local zines read their pieces aloud; it feels as if they’re speaking directly to me, but the crowd’s audible exhalations are a reminder that that part of me is also in all of us.

Each moment of resonance is well worth enduring the process of sifting through the noise and capital-c Content. So to all of you, I want to pass on the work of a few writers, speakers and storytellers who have reminded me of things my spirit forgot, which I continue to hold and turn to for clarity and comfort.

1. The God Phone by Leora Smith (Longreads)
2. A Malt by Lizzie Derksen (The Vault)*
3. John O’Donohue: The Inner Landscape of Beauty (The On Being Project)

*Use the code TAKECARE for one free story from The Vault. A Malt resonated with me so naturally, I recommend it, but I’ve read almost every story they’ve published and all are beautiful choices.

— Tamara Jones

Tamara Jones is a freelance writer and Marketing Coordinator at The Theatre Centre and SummerWorks.

Alone Together is a series of shared stories by The Theatre Centre. Over the next several weeks, our team is going to offer you some of our own personal joys, those things that nudge us, the arms that extend to us in the dark, those things that catch our hearts off guard. And we’d love to hear from you in return… what’s blowing your heart open these days?

Alone Together: Alexis Eastman

Faded photograph of a child floating in the corner of a swimming pool smiling at the camera.

“As my eyes rose above the top of the water it started to sunshower. I stood all the way up and reached my hands into the rain.”

 

Ever since I was 4 years old and my Dad threw me screaming and crying into a backyard pool, I have loved to swim.

A beloved frenemy of mine who I worked with as a shopgirl once invited me over to ask me a series of questions that she had come up with and self-determined as the only ~true~ way to get to know someone. “Ask someone you’re shagging even one of these questions, you’ll be blown away,” she bragged. Anyway, one of these q’s was something like “What’s one thing you would do forever if, like, nothing mattered?” Instantly I said, swim. I would swim.

On our honeymoon, my husband (who I was indeed shagging) and I went to an island. I was too tired to do much touring and spent most of my first days laying by the beach, longing to be in the water. My post-wedding exhaustion was lingering as endless nausea and the waves made me feel like I was going to hurl. On the third day, desperate for the ocean, I took a Gravol for breakfast and waded out as the dimenhydrinate took over (sorry Mom!). My stomach settled and my sleepy mind emptied. I floated and fell into twilight sleep, the salt steadfastly holding me up. My husband tells this story and says I had floated out so far I was only a speck to him. Blue all around me, I was only a speck to me too.

Several years later we rented a shack by a river for our anniversary as, upon reflection, we like to celebrate with increased proximity to bodies of water. Hazy with late afternoon sun, I got up from a nap on the dock and dove in. As my eyes rose above the top of the water it started to sunshower. I stood all the way up and reached my hands into the rain. I thought about yelling to wake him so he wouldn’t miss it but waited for a moment. Instead, slowly swimming up and down the river, hovering at the top of the water so I couldn’t tell what was skin, what was river, what was rain.

I have a bath almost every day, hot, with Epsom salts if I can. There, I close my eyes and let the salt buoy my hands to the surface, feeling the tension of the water gently hold and then break way to my skin. I am in the pool, the ocean, the river, I am swimming. Swimming, like if nothing mattered.

Sent from my bathtub.

Alexis Eastman is a producer at The Theatre Centre.

Alone Together is a series of shared stories by The Theatre Centre. Over the next several weeks, our team is going to offer you some of our own personal joys, those things that nudge us, the arms that extend to us in the dark, those things that catch our hearts off guard. And we’d love to hear from you in return… what’s blowing your heart open these days?

Alone Together: Aislinn Rose

“Hope is this kind of arm you extend into the dark on behalf of others… all the privilege that I have and what’s working out for me… how dare I be hopeless.”

In his 2019 interview for The On Being Project, writer, photographer, and art historian Teju Cole talks about the Inuit word qarrtsiluni, which he translates as “sitting in the dark together, waiting for something to happen”.

It’s an incredible interview, offering a meditation on the art that helps us, that “jolts us awake”. The work that isn’t written for the day, but for the middle of the night. The value of silence and concentration, “how do you help other people concentrate?”.

The behind view of an audience of people sitting in rows of chairs in front of two speakers on a stage with two microphones.
Image by Bethany Birnie

And he talks about hope.

“Hope is this kind of arm you extend into the dark on behalf of others… all the privilege that I have and what’s working out for me… how dare I be hopeless.”

As artists, creators, cultural workers, and audience members, we spend a lot of time sitting together in the dark waiting for something to happen. And even now, with all our theatres shuttered, our cultural spaces closed to our communities, I find we are in that same space. We are now alone, together, in the dark, waiting for something to happen.

Toward the end of the interview, which I hope you’ll take the time to enjoy, Cole acknowledges the grim view that “we’re not here for a long time, and LOL no one cares”. But he also talks about that moment within our favourite song, or that first bite into the perfectly seasoned (and particularly peppered) goat biryani, or that long walk, or that piece of art… those fleeting moments that offer you a reminder that, “hey, this is why you’re alive”.

Cole quotes Seamus Heaney’s poem Postcript, which I offer the end of here:

Useless to think you’ll park and capture it
More thoroughly. You are neither here nor there,
A hurry through which known and strange things pass
As big soft buffetings come at the car sideways
And catch the heart off guard and blow it open.

Over the next several weeks, our team at The Theatre Centre is going to offer you some of our own personal joys, those things that nudge us, the arms that extend to us in the dark, those things that catch our hearts off guard. And we’d love to hear from you in return… what’s blowing your heart open these days?

— Aislinn Rose

Listen to Teju’s interview.

Alone Together is a series of shared stories by The Theatre Centre. Over the next several weeks, our team is going to offer you some of our own personal joys, those things that nudge us, the arms that extend to us in the dark, those things that catch our hearts off guard. And we’d love to hear from you in return… what’s blowing your heart open these days?

Train with us: Indigenous Creative Producer in the Creative Producer’s Training Program

Front view of The Theatre Centre historic building with pedestrians walking in front.

About the Program: The Theatre Centre has partnered with Leslie McCue and Central Fire to provide an opportunity for an Indigenous artist who is interested in being a Creative Producer. This paid program will provide hands-on mentorship and support for an artist to develop their skills as a Creative Producer.

Through our own observations, as well as in discussion with Indigenous artists and community, it has been made clear to The Theatre Centre that there is a need for Indigenous producers, as well as opportunities and access to training. This opportunity was created to assist in addressing this gap and to provide the sector with Indigenous Creative Producers who can support both Indigenous and non-Indigenous artists with dynamic and intuitive administrative support.

This is a paid training opportunity, offering an honorarium of $15,000 for the approximate 12 months, as well as financial support for national and international travel related to the program. There may also be additional financial support available for daily travel needs if required. The program will run from May 2020 to May 2021.

About the Role: A Creative Producer is present from the early stages of a project and blurs the lines between management and creation throughout the process. They use their intimate knowledge of the creation process to build creative capacity, rigorously supporting the artist throughout each phase of development, and finding new ways for the work to have a life beyond first production. As a leading incubator and producer of new performance, The Theatre Centre is uniquely positioned to offer a Creative Producer the opportunity for on-the-job training and mentorship, working closely with a number of artists whose works are all at different stages of development, production, and touring.

The Creative producer will use the projects in The Theatre Centre Residency program to live-test their learning – from idea to production to moving the work. The Theatre Centre is committed to having at least one Indigenous-led project in Residency, additionally this year we have opened up a spot for a Comedian in Residence; there is a wide variety of artists and opportunities available through Residency.

The time commitment will vary month to month depending on the projects you’re working with, and your own schedule. Additionally, there will be opportunities made available to work with Central Fire, or other sister organizations (like Kaha:wi Dance) on a monthly basis depending on your interests.

About the Applicants:

  • You are an Indigenous artist with some interest, or experience in producing live performance, but you’ve identified gaps in your knowledge.
  • You are interested in touring performance, nationally and internationally.
  • You enjoy working with, or want to begin working with artists throughout the entire creation process – from idea through to production and touring.
  • You have a specific interest in new work – creation & development.
  • You like to travel, and see new work by a wide range of artists across disciplines.
  • You have demonstrated a desire to build a career producing live performance.

About the Mentors: In addition to working closely with The Theatre Centre’s Artistic Director Aislinn Rose, and Producer, Alexis Eastman, the Creative Producer will also have regular access to several experienced external mentors.

Judy Harquail is the Director of Programs at Ontario Presents, and currently sits on the Board of Directors for the International Society for the Performing Arts (ISPA). The Theatre Centre has already directly benefited from not only Judy’s knowledge, but her eagerness to share that knowledge and network with the community. Judy will be able to help our Creative Producer begin to create networks & relationships of their own.

Karilyn Brown is the former Director at Performing Lines in Australia, an organization committed to producing & touring new Australian works. When Aislinn met Karilyn in Australia in 2017, they realized there were opportunities ahead for reciprocal learning and resource exchanges, and this training program is just the first opportunity to bring Karilyn’s extensive knowledge and networks to Canada.

Leslie McCue is a proud member of the Mississaugas of Curve Lake First Nation. Leslie is an arts administrator, artist, performer and educator who is dedicated to raising cultural awareness, while supporting community any way she can. Her work is driven by her past, passion to educate and the motivation to empower others. Leslie is the Administrator for Chocolate Woman Collective, the Coordinator for the Royal Ontario Museum Youth Cabinet, an Indigenous Knowledge Resource Teacher and a Resident Artist Educator for Young People’s Theatre. Leslie has a three-year Fellowship with the International Society for the Performing Arts (ISPA).

About The Theatre Centre: In 2014, The Theatre Centre completed a $6.2 million transformation of an iconic heritage building into a live arts hub and incubator, and a permanent home for the company. Since that time, we’ve established ourselves as a cultural & community hub in the heart of West Queen West. Always questioning the notion of “what can a theatre be?”, we are open and accessible every day of the week, providing a public space to the neighbourhood with free wifi, delicious coffee, and unbelievable baked goods, made in-house by our Baker-in-Residence. It’s the most dangerous thing about working here. We continue to be known for having research & development at the heart of our artistic activities, through our long-term Residency Program. Recently among our 6 Residency companies have been a choreographer, a performance artist, and a neurologist. No two projects are alike.

About Your Application: We’d like to get a sense of who you are, what you’re interested in, and why you think this program could help you in your career. In addition to your resume, please send us either a short letter, or a link to a video or sound file (3-5 minutes max) telling us about yourself and your interest in training as a Creative Producer at The Theatre Centre. Applications are due April 14th at 11:59 pm, and can be sent to [email protected]. Letters and resumes should be in PDF.

Click here to download the application.

The Theatre Centre is committed to employment equity. We warmly encourage applications from queer, transgender and two-spirited people, First Nations, Inuit & Métis, people of colour, and people with disabilities. The Theatre Centre is also committed to providing accommodations for people with disabilities in all parts of the hiring process. If you require accommodation, please let us know and we will work with you to meet your needs.

Sea Sick to take London by storm with premiere at
The National Theatre!

Photo of Alanna Mitchell with short hair and glasses standing in front of a chalkboard with hands in their pockets.

“What is the most important show on the Fringe? It might just be Sea Sick.”
— Lyn Gardner (Stagedoor)
★★★★★ “a remarkable feat of storytelling and reportage” – The List
★★★★ “Sea Sick is a quiet call to action, a reminder of our responsibilities, and a crucial examination of an underexposed issue.” – The Arts Desk
★★★★ “Can a science journalist save the world through the power of theatre?”— The Guardian
“a thrilling…cautionary tale” – Toronto Star

Friday, November 15, 2019 – We are very excited to announce that our Edinburgh hit Sea Sick, will receive its London UK premiere at The National Theatre (running April 22 – May 7, 2020). Written and Performed by award-winning science journalist Alanna Mitchell, and directed by Franco Boni and Ravi Jain, Sea Sick is a deeply personal solo performance about the state of the global ocean, inspired by Mitchell’s book of the same name.

“I’ll be fascinated to see what conversations Sea Sick sets off during its run at the National Theatre,” commented writer and performer, Alanna Mitchell. “I think we have the chance, right now, to make a difference in the fate of the planet. And I hope this play, in this place, at this time, will feed into the decisions we have to make.”

Since premiering at The Theatre Centre in 2014 when we first opened the doors to our brand new home, the production has toured extensively throughout Ontario and Canada, and around the world including Luxembourg, Mumbai, Darwin, Sydney, and most recently, Edinburgh. After a hit run at the Edinburgh Fringe, as part of the CanadaHub series, the National Theatre will program Sea Sick for a three-week run.

“Alanna Mitchell’s remarkable one-woman show about the state of the ocean, Sea Sick, opens at the National Theatre this April. Following its sell-out run in Edinburgh earlier this year the production tells the story of the science behind our seas and could not be more important as we all look to find ways to tackle the climate emergency.” ~ Rufus Norris, Artistic Director, The National Theatre.

The National Theatre declared a climate emergency earlier this fall. As part of this declaration, and their commitment to telling resonant stories to galvanise positive change, the National Theatre has said that climate and ecological concerns will be reflected prominently in their future programming.

“This is an amazing opportunity,” commented Aislinn Rose, The Theatre Centre’s Artistic Director. “In 2014, Sea Sick was an incredibly important show, and five years later, with the climate crisis finally becoming more of a mainstream conversation, the show feels vital. Being part of the climate initiative at The National Theatre is incredible, not just for the show, but because it places the work at the centre of a larger, international conversation.

“It’s also important to note that we take our own carbon footprint seriously. While we believe the impact that Alanna is having on live audiences is crucial to sharing the message of this piece, we are working to decrease our own impact on the environment.”

As Sea Sick travels around the world, The Theatre Centre has been working with The Ocean Foundation, and their SeaGrass Grow project, which allows individuals and corporations to calculate the carbon footprint of their travel. The project then plants seagrass, restoring natural ecosystems that take up large amounts of carbon, while providing habitats and crucial food sources to a wide variety of underwater species. The Theatre Centre has begun building carbon offsetting into each touring budget.

Over the last number of years, The Theatre Centre has been putting more of our resources toward supporting artists moving their work beyond a first production. Internationally, they’ve seen a significant interest in the work coming out of the company. Specifically, they’ve had a lot of success over the last two years in Edinburgh with the support of the CanadaHub initiative, with two of the most talked about shows at the 2018 and 2019 festivals, Daughter by Adam Lazarus, and Sea Sick by Alanna Mitchell respectively.

“CanadaHub is an incredible resource for Canadian artists to have their work seen within an international context” commented Rose. “Since 2017 many of these shows have garnered rave reviews, won numerous awards, and have secured successful international tours; we are proud to be part of this initiative and to be contributing to its reputation as a place to find great work by exceptional Canadian artists.”

Credits
Director: Franco Boni
Co-director: Ravi Jain
Set and Costume Designer: Shawn Kerwin
Sound Designer: Tim Lindsay
Writer and Performer: Alanna Mitchell
Lighting Designer: Rebecca Picherack
Stage Manager and Touring Lighting Designer: Melissa Joakim

The Theatre Centre
The Theatre Centre (Toronto, Canada) is an internationally recognized live-arts incubator that serves as a research and development hub for the cultural sector. They are a public space, open and accessible to the people of their community, where citizens can imagine, debate, celebrate, protest, unite and be responsible for inventing the future. The Theatre Centre’s mission is to nurture artists, invest in ideas and champion new work and new ways of working.

The National Theatre
At the National, we make world-class theatre that is entertaining, challenging and inspiring. And we make it for everyone. We aim to reach the widest possible audience, to be open, inclusive and diverse, and as national as possible. We stage a broad range of productions in London and tour extensively across the UK. Our international activity puts some of the nation’s leading artists on the world stage, with productions playing on Broadway and touring across the globe. We invest in the future of theatre by developing talent, creating bold new work and building audiences, partnering with a range of theatres and theatre companies.

Alanna Mitchell (Writer and Performer) is an award-winning Canadian author and journalist who writes about science and social trends. Her international best-selling book Sea Sick: The Global Ocean in Crisis won the prestigious Grantham Prize for excellence in environmental journalism in 2010. With the help of The Theatre Centre’s artistic director Franco Boni and Why Not Theatre’s founding artistic director Ravi Jain, Mitchell turned Sea Sick into a one-woman non-fiction play that she has performed across Canada and internationally, her first foray into theatre. She has written for the New York Times science section, National Geographic, Canadian Geographic, GQ Magazine India, Maclean’s Magazine, Broadview Magazine, the Globe and Mail Newspaper, the Toronto Star Newspaper and is an award-winning radio documentary-maker for CBC Radio’s Quirks & Quarks. Her fifth non-fiction book, The Spinning Magnet, about the Earth’s magnetic field, came out last year. She is working on a play with Boni and Jain based on her fourth book, Malignant Metaphor: Confronting Cancer Myths. Its working title: The Interview.

Franco Boni (Director) is the Artistic and Executive Director of the PuSh International Performing Arts Festival in Vancouver, Canada. Prior to this, he served as Artistic Director of The Theatre Centre in Toronto for sixteen years. Franco has also served as Festival Director of the Rhubarb Festival at Buddies in Bad Times Theatre and Artistic Producer of the SummerWorks Theatre Festival. He is a recognized cultural innovator, facilitator and community builder with a demonstrated track record of restoring financial stability and artistic credibility to local arts organizations and festivals for over two decades. In 2019, he directed Prophecy Fog by Jani Lauzon at The Theatre Centre. He is the inaugural recipient of the Ken McDougall Award for emerging directors, was awarded the Rita Davies Cultural Leadership Award, for outstanding leadership in the development of arts and culture in the City of Toronto, and in 2013 he received the George Luscombe Award for Mentorship in Professional Theatre.

Ravi Jain (Co-Director) is a multi-award-winning artist known for making politically bold and accessible theatrical experiences in both small indie productions and large theatres. As the founding artistic director of Why Not Theatre, Ravi has established himself as an artistic leader for his inventive productions, international producing/collaborations and innovative producing models which are aimed to better support emerging artists to make money from their art. In all of his work, exemplified by projects like A Brimful of Asha and his reimagining of classics like Hamlet and Salt-Water Moon, is Ravi’s passion to inspire Canadians to look at new ways of representing Canada on national and international stages. Currently he is working on a new adaptation of The Mahabharata with the Shaw Festival and a new project with Canadian writer Nicolas Billon on a new play titled CODE, which completed a one week residency at the Barbican Theatre in London, UK. Ravi has been shortlisted for the prestigious Siminovitch Prize (2016 and 2019) and won the 2012 Pauline McGibbon Award for Emerging Director and the 2016 Canada Council John Hirsch Prize for direction. He is a graduate of the two-year program at École Jacques Lecoq.