I Attended the Glasshouse Theatre Opening

My Cinderella Moment, from the River to the. . . .

This Cinderella crashed the ball. Even managed to lose a shoe too. Just for a heartbeat, or three. The stiletto heel sunk between every crack and grate it found as I did my best to scurry to and then through the theatre. I made a vision, true. As beautiful and graceful as a new fawn stumbling every few metres while the final bell tolled through the halls, warning of closing doors. But I made it.

Such grace.

It had been a week of mayhem: storms, flood warnings, work, work, work. Mayhem that kept its pedal to the metal until the final second: A late plan change had me asking a neighbour to zip me up; a pressed Uber driver dropped me off opposite side of the theatre to the entrance. Everything that could go a wry did.

But little could dim my excitement.

This was the first time since the pandemic I could dress up, truly. And while I was not going (just) for the spectacle--and less said about the spectrum of "Queensland Formal Attire" the better--there is a particular pride in feeling beautiful and attending something fantastical and novel.

I was there primarily to support my student: She was singing in the choir supporting Naomi Price's Little Red Company with their Australian classics medley. (Note: I teach piano, but tomato, to-mah-to). And while the invitation list was selective, it helps to have well connected friends. It gave me an excuse to get out and witness truly talent individuals and marvel at the latest addition to the Queensland Performing Arts Centre. And the Glasshouse is a vision worth admiring . Gorgeous. Surpriginsly intimate.

It was a night of local name drops. Bubbles. Food. And lit flamingos.

And did one premier give me a double take? Perhaps.

And did I have to hold myself back from scoffing and snapping.

Yes.

The hypocrisy of Queensland's art scene is well and truly still alive.

We sit and applaud the very people taking credit for a project they had little--if any--to do with; the very same individuals that are systemically taking away our creative and speech freedoms; who speak of optimism as if they're selling back to us a fantasy of the true reality we live day in and out. We know better. We know the struggle.

It's a farce. A spectacle. But nothing little me could disrupt. Not without taking away from the true success stories of the night, those truly deserving of my respect and attention. From the angel Kate Miller Heidke to the exquisite Rebecca Seymour. There is magic in Queensland. Selective as it may be championed. Dampened as it may be emerging. But necessary.

Wonder is the secret to a better future and the foundation of creativity.

May the Glasshouse prove to be a welcoming home for those excelling in their craft, pushing the boundaries, and doubling down on what true optimism should look like.

To read the original Instagram post that inspired this later blog addition, click here.