There’s a new ape in town, and they’re doing everything they can to redefine the fringe.
Guerrilla Fest is here, and the name couldn’t be more apt. Running for three weekends between 24 January and 8 February, it’s a grass-roots festival that hopes to win the hearts and minds of the public.
It’s midsummer in Perth, and that’s festival season. The streets are awash with artists and performers, comedians and theatre-makers, and the city is all the richer for it. Between the very much established fringe arts festival of FRINGE WORLD, and the nigh-septuagenarian Perth Festival (née Perth International Arts Festival), there’s a lot going on at this time of year.
However, as we’ve seen the inevitable mass appeal of our fringe festival grow—and with it, an increase in big-name, big-budget performers dominating the public perception—it’s becoming difficult for artists to break even, let alone turn a profit. Sure, art isn’t about money, but performers need to eat.
"Festival artists work incredibly hard to create their content … also wearing many hats marketing their show, administration duties, all at their upfront expense," says Kelly Witham-Cook, Festival Director of Guerrilla Fest.
Following last year’s fringe festival a small group of artists came together to discuss what they could do. Many of them had wildly successful runs, filling out venues and delighting audiences, but in the face of losing up to half of their box office take to festival fees it was quickly becoming untenable. An idea was formed—to create an artist-focused festival, supporting artists in making a living wage from their work.
A venue was found: the newly renovated Barcadia, occupying the site of the old Metcalfe Theatre. A three hundred seat venue, with an attached multi-level bar in the heart of Northbridge, it was an ideal choice. It had been an IMAX years ago, before being converted into a theatre space designed to address the rising costs of performance space as the State Theatre Centre opened and smaller venues like the Playhouse and Rechabites closed. The parallels are obvious.
Artists were quick to sign on from a variety of disciplines. Circus performers, stand-up comedians, cabaret and theatre makers filled out a program that was shaping to have something for every sort of audience member. No matter what the punters were looking for, Guerrilla Fest could deliver, from the hilarious Bella Green Is Charging For It, through to the surreal Sin & Bonez: A Lanky Man’s Angle, and the insightful Do You Know Me?
Kelly Witham-Cook was heartened by the response received from artists. "I have some fantastic artists this season that have been wonderfully supportive of the goals of Guerrilla as a whole," she says, "and I hope to grow our team as the festival grows."
But as renovations to Barcadia ran well over schedule (if you walk down Lake Street today you can still see the construction fence blazoned with “Coming Soon 2019”) and at the start of December, it became apparent that it wouldn’t be ready in time. Guerrilla Fest didn’t have a home, less than two months prior to the festival season. The revolution was seemingly over before it had begun.
Desperate calls for help on social media were made. If Guerrilla Fest couldn’t find a replacement venue—keeping in mind that this was at a time that almost every space in Northbridge was already booked out—then donations would be repaid and ticket sales refunded. But the artists who’d signed on? They’d be facing a three week gap at the start of festival season, with no shows to perform and no income to speak of.
The new management of the Brass Monkey Hotel, themselves working to correct the mistakes of years gone by, such as the ill-conceived frat house party scandal, came on board as the new home of Guerrilla Fest. They took on the costs and responsibility of staging, lighting, and chair hire. They dropped the venue hire fee, which in turn decreased the costs to artists. The revolution had begun.
For this to succeed, it needs to gain the support of audiences in the midst of an already-crowded festival season.
Will it succeed? Will the artists—who are not just the life-blood, but the flesh, tissue, and organs of the curious creature that is an arts festival—see an improved financial arrangement?
In half a decade’s time we hope to be writing about the third leg of the Perth festival season in an established Guerrilla Fest (perhaps even housed at Barcadia) that is a true alternative for performers and audiences alike.
Festival Director Kelly Witham-Cook says she'd "love Guerrilla Fest … to create an option for artists, who perhaps have an established audience, and don't need the larger festival exposure, or smaller artists who would like to test their shows without the financial risks."
"The only way we can do this," she says, "is if in our first years we have support from the community."
Tickets for shows at Guerrilla Fest are on sale now.
GLEN SEABROOK-BENSON