by Saoirse Anton

On the 15th of November this year the World is due to hit an important milestone, the human population is projected to reach 8 billion. Eight billion is a lot of people. To use a theatre-themed measure, that’s sixteen million, two hundred and sixty thousand, one hundred and sixty-two point six Abbey Theatre auditoriums’ worth of people (now try singing that to the tune of Seasons of Love…)

Working in an industry that is all about bringing people together, picturing the existence of that many people is quite thrilling. What I have always loved about live performance is its capacity to bring people together. Over the years I have had so many fantastic conversations with so many interesting people, sitting next to me in auditoriums, in the dreaded interval toilet queues, at workshops, gathered around street performers, waiting at the bar for a pre-show drink or waiting for the bus home after a show. I’ve watched hundreds of different stories about thousands of different people unfold in front of my eyes on stage – from Shakespeare’s history plays, to classic pantomimes, to zeitgeist-fuelled documentary theatre. In one way or another, through live theatre I have connected with more people than I can imagine.

Though this sense of connection and community is what I love about theatre, it can be a double edged sword. It is all too easy to settle too comfortably into the familiar; always going to see the same artists and genres, always working with the same people, always programming the safe bets, always hiring the same faces. As I noted in a talk at Dirty Protest and Fishamble’s 2021 event On the Horizon, we need to make sure we are building communities that not only include people we are familiar with and who are familiar with the industry, but the neighbour around the corner who feels that dance “isn’t for her,” the teenager in school who can’t afford to risk studying drama in university because of high fees and low job certainty, or the recently arrived refugee who is in a direct provision centre and has their access to the arts limited by time, space and cost. As The Care Collective put it in The Care Manifesto, we need to foster an industry “in which we can support each other and generate networks of belonging,” with “conditions that enable us to act collaboratively to create communities that both support our abilities and nurture our interdependencies.”

As audiences we can do this by supporting a wide range of productions and artists, going to see the new work by a relatively unknown artist, telling a friend about it, spreading the word and making sure voices that haven’t been listened to enough in the past are heard.

Yes, there will be billboards on the street, ads on the radio, sponsored tweets and posters on buses about the next big show, and you should absolutely support that too. But while you’re browsing for tickets to a touring West-End musical or well-established artist’s show, also have a look for something you haven’t tried before.

You might discover new children’s and young adult writers from typically underrepresented backgrounds through the Dublin Book Festival Raising Voices Showcase, or new women poets through the ground-breaking Salmon Poetry, who are celebrating 40 years of publishing as part of Leaves Festival of Writing and Music. You might explore a work in progress reading of Supernatural Bread written by Project Research Support recipient, Bridget O’Gorman, with the dual perspective of being a disabled artist and mother – two demographics that are sorely underrepresented in the theatre industry. Or you might delve into the Theatre Making and Citizenship programme at Cork’s Everyman Theatre (or recommend it to a younger person in your life if you, like me, are over 25).

Whatever you choose to experience and explore this month, prick up your ears and listen to a voice you haven’t listened to before. With almost 8 billion people on this planet, there are a lot of stories and perspectives to be heard.