Help
help, friends. I've decided to go to Edinburgh Fringe Festival. I'm
going this year.
Why
in god's name would you want to do that, clown?
Here
are the twelve reasons.
1)
I have great friends who are also going, and we are going to share a
flat together. We all get the festival thing, to some extent or
another, and know how to be cool. For my part, I will hopefully
organize some group pilates and kale.
2)
There are different artistic things going on among different peoples.
Those of us on this side of the ocean are doing our thing. Those at
that side of the ocean have a different thing. I seek cross-cultural
ass-sniffing. As a word nerd, I look forward to speaking English
with people who talk completely differently than I (No, you guys, I
seriously think it's "I". I'm almost positive because that
sentence would continue "than how I talk", so it would be
logically shortened to just "I" the subject, not "me"
the object. Grammmmmmmmmmmmar). I'm an American Jew from New York and
LA, and these days the Pacific Northwest. On my way to Canada to roll
around on the puppy green of Canada, where the festivals nurture you
like ducklings in the nest. Then I'll be all among the English and
the Scottish and the Australians, and that's just the native English
speakers. Think of the internationality. That is fucking rad. That is
worth the price of admission.
3)
I am doing a free festival that is sort of a subset of the official
Fringe, which means that the festival organizers together with the
venues provide a venue to an artist for free, which is kind of
amazing, and then at the end of the show I beg the audience for money
like the beggar-whore that I am, which is less-amazing but definitely
understandable. Is it the healthiest financial model for an artist?
No, the entire free fringe model is really not set up to nurture you like ducklings in any sort of nest.
Emails all year from the festival organizers convince you that you are absolute crap under everyone's shoes, and you
should expect no more than 4 people per show, and that you're lucky
to be alive, please don't bother them, after all, they're doing it
for free. Despite all of this, I think if you're going to do
Edinburgh, and do it for the first time, this free festival thing
could be the best way to go.
4)
I'll tell you one thing. Shaking the wizened hands of the rude men in
charge of this free festival is something I'm really looking forward
to. Those are some arts festival icons, for sure.
5)
I took the money I would've spent on a venue, and hired a publicist.
She's completely amazing. Everyone needs a PR person, right now. Of
course, some of my colleagues are really good at being their own PR.
I admire the fuck out of those people. I'm even decent at helping
other people with their PR: decent enough, in fact, to realize that I
needed to hire someone in PR, other than me, to sell my show.
6) To stay healthy! How healthy can I stay in a cesspool of unhealth? How many shows? In
how many days? Around how much debauchery? What am I, a gazelle? Is
kale possible? It will be mine O YES THAT KALE WILL BE MINE. THAT
KALE AND THAT PILATES WILL BE MINE.
7)
Zoe Coombs Marr. Have you heard of her? I just did, from that PR
person of my dreams! That's the other thing I'm learning: you must
have a PR person, but you cannot settle for anything less than an
awesome PR person, who knows people and is liked by them. But the
point is, there's this Australian doing a bad male standup comic,
with hair glued to her neck. We were just featured together in this
article:
https://edinburghfestival.list.co.uk/article/72211-fringe-preview-butt-kapinski-and-dave/
And
that's just someone I've heard of! What about all the other inspiring
artists? And new friends?
8)
Did I really say 12 reasons to go to Edinburgh? Oh fuck, you have to
go once, right? I know, it's not what it used to be, but I think the
free fringe model is probably the closest thing, and still, Edinburgh seems
like a place where people who love performance go. It is a Mecca. It
is something everyone has heard of, even people who don't understand
anything else you are doing with your life, it may be a dream come
true, your life, it may be
the thing you were born for, but until you say "Edinburgh"
to people they probably won't know what the eff you're doing. But it's okay.
So, I'm saying Edinburgh to people now.
9)
I directed a show I was pretty proud of, and it was really well
received there the past 2 years. And it definitely helps to have a foot in the door
already, just to say, hey folks, you liked that. you might just
like this too. No guarantees. Worth a shot. That's a cool way to go
to this whore-beast of a beast-fest. BY THE WAY DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY SHOWS ARE
THERE? THERE ARE OVER 3300 IN THE OFFICIAL FESTIVAL PROGRAM, AND THAT
IS NOT COUNTING FREE SHOWS THAT ARE NOT IN THE PROGRAM, OR THE SHOWS
THAT ARE IN THE STREET, OR HIDING UNDER HOTEL BEDS ALL OVER THE CITY.
There are shows coming out of every possible pore of that city during
the month of August. And I will be one more clogged pore. It is nice
to be part of an invasion, right? An art virus. It's definitely
weird. Already it feels like a blend of Hollywood and Burning Man directed by
Terry Gilliam, and I'm not even there yet.
10)
I like my show, dude. I like doing it. I feel real happy when I get
to do it. Don't get me wrong, I want to do it mostly and sometimes I
don't want to do it but it's a sacred thing and you do it anyway no
matter what mood you're in beforehand, and it's always really fun and
surprising and special. And it's beautiful, when it really works.
It's the best.
11)
Speaking of another thing I'm slightly freaking out: the
performer-heaviness of the thing. When I'm teaching too, it feels
great, because I get to feel useful goddammit. But when I'm
performing, even though I love my show profoundly, there is of course
that "performance" construct, which is, let us face it, a
bit more about me. People have really good roles in my show; audience
members do funny, fresh things. But teaching is really not about the
teacher. Or maybe it is, and my particular strain of narcissism comes out this way, instead of
that way. Who the fuck knows. I wish I were offering
workshops. But I don't know how to do that and make sure I also do
enough Pilates. The first Edinburgh. We'll see. I did volunteer to be a Venue Captain, which means, so far, that I get more emails.
12)
I hope that I either have a blast and want to keep going and going.
Or that I learn a fuck ton and get lifted up in some ways and humbled
in others. To challenge myself. To learn things. To make and keep
friends. To work, bitches. To work.
In the next 2 weeks I
am accepting any and all donations of prayer. It's the big one,
people. Pray for Butt Kapinski. Pray for Naked Comedy. More than
anything, my friends and loved ones, pray for kale.
