We Made it

We’ve made a new show. Ocker. And as with all new shows, it’s not what we originally set out to make. Instead, it was discovered along the way. 

Like most acrobats, I'm a terrible glutton for punishment, and Ocker is no exception. We set out intentionally trying to throw ourselves into the deep end. And we've achieved some incredible things. We've designed, engineered, and built a new circus apparatus. We've created a street performance,

A medium not to be underestimated 

And made a show responsive enough to adapt across different terrains. It meets people where they are, brings extraordinary things into the everyday, and it's a show I reckon we might tour a lot. A bloody triumph. 

When this journey began, we set out to make something subversive. Something edgy and political that might challenge people and change their minds. And if I hold the show against that original intention, I'm not so sure we got there. 

Don’t worry, that's the point of the creative process. 

Reflecting back, I’m left wondering if this was a realistic goal, or just the hangover of a white lie we're taught from a young age. 

Art can change the world.  

I've always understood this to mean that art is a political tool, a way to wear your politics on your sleeve. And somewhere in that idea sits an unwritten responsibility to make art that does something. 

But perhaps we mistake art's ability to affect an individual for its ability to create political change. In many cases we gather fewer than a hundred people in a room often my mum and my housemates 
to show them something and hope they leave thinking differently. Even if they do, what happens next? Someone can change their mind without changing what they do, and changing a few people doesn't meaningfully change the society that shaped what they think in the first place. 

So, can our art change the world?  

Of course it can. Just slowly. Blak artists have changed this country. And there's a particular weight to this expectation for First Nations artists, whose art has long been political. Ocker draws on the theatre of the streets and political movements. A well-timed piece of art can push someone towards change. A thought planted today might grow into something else years later. 

Maybe we need to give ourselves a bit of grace. We're making work in a time when it can feel like we always need to be saying something, challenging something, changing something. Maybe that's an unreasonable expectation to place on every work we make. Not everything changes in a single moment, and not everything needs to announce what it's trying to do. 

So, have we made Ocker? 

Of Course we have. I have the bruises to prove it.