A show carried across mountains and motorways
We’re expected in Pōneke (Wellington) by 9 pm. Chilli and I always enjoy driving down the motu (island).
She’s perched, attentive, blanket arranged to perfection, on the passenger bench, hours before I‘m finished packing the car.
My favourite travel companion to date. Our trusty Nissan Serena is carefully stacked like Tetris (thanks Dad for that obsessive skill), with PA, stands and instruments, merch, props and personals.
At this point, it’s been a year since the wild experiment manifested, of writing, producing and touring a solo show and I still reel in gratitude for the recognition and connection I experienced.
What I’d needed in my arts practice was permission to be real. I’d wanted desperately to break from playing a character to fit, and finding my voice walking on trail gave me exactly the connection and inspiration I was seeking. So, I wrote story and song to my footfall, of nature and loss and grief and love, of universal experiences, shaped by my personal journey. I called it Walking Songs.
Of my debut NZ Fringe performance, sold out at the Garage Project’s Wild Workshop, a young reviewer suggested that as a hiker himself, he knew how my story should be told and while it might be nice for me in catharsis, was it necessary to share this performance with others? Ahh, the necessity of the artist.
A stranger stopped me on Cuba Street to tell me how my story of prayer “cracked her open”, shaking hands gripping the air in front of her chest. A beautiful trans woman attended multiple performances, replying to my story of naming as a resonation of her own claiming.
\A woman in stride down the slope of Buachaille Etive Mòr, 100 miles from Edinburgh, stopped me, English broken, tears flowing, to tell me “Thank you for a beautiful moment in the pain”.
I realised quickly just how necessary sharing this story was. So I sank my bones into it, I made broth and nourished anyone who needed to see their reflection in song. Interactions like these drove momentum towards this afternoon’s departure.
Every spare minute for the past six months has been a flurry of revisions and edits, songs written and recorded, a zine made, itinerary planned and harmony rehearsed. I’ve pitched and booked venues, designed artworks and created marketing campaigns. I’m not terribly inspired by the administration of making art for life, but if I balance it with enough play, I can force fun into Instagram posts and press releases.
Chilli and I arrive around 10 pm. Re-rehearsal is a full day of blocking, timing and scrutinising, finding comedic beat, texture and key. We rehearse each song with reverence. My sister Lucy-Belle is reluctant at first, though I know the deep soulful bond of her voice and there is a reason I’ve asked her to sing with me.
Lucy-Belle and my dear friend Chloe were a part of the production from its inception. Chloe’s flute and their true voices in harmony enriched the piece they both poured generous time and love into. To produce a show and tour internationally is a humbling and a sobering experience.
Without my incredible community support at home and abroad, I would have completely fallen apart. For this tour, therefore, Lucy will also play stage manager and is on tour with me the whole way.
We work through the story, placing the intention and ensuring connection to each stanza, allowing a final reshaping and resettling until we have the rhythm of the piece in us.
We begin in Pōneke/Wellington the following night. Let the tour begin!
Walking Songs full NZ performance can be purchased ($15) via Patreon.
Words by Milly Moon
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