On Credibility.

Working in a medium that revels in the risque and celebrates nudity (full or partial) means that one inevitably faces negativity and backlash from time to time - it's a bit of a rite of passage and you either learn to deal with it, or you get the fuck off the stage.


I've pretty much encountered every slander there is. I've heard people call burlesque 'rubbish', 'disgusting' and a way for 'fat/old/ugly girls to feel good about themselves.' In fact, just this morning I read in the SMH Sydney Festival lift-out a quote from a circus producer and performer saying that burlesque was something people did when they had "no other skills or talent". 


Say, what?


While I'm not disputing the varying levels of ability and training among performers, my own personal definitions of what constitutes performance 'skill' is perhaps a little less elitist than those of this particular critic...


Look, most women (with a bit of confidence and practice) could put on a spangly costume and swan about onstage slowly peeling off items until the inevitable punch line of a final reveal. Now I'm not suggesting that every woman who attempted this could do so with humour, poise and control, but what I am saying is that at its very basic incarnation, burlesque can be somewhat all-inclusive. I think this notion is supported by the overwhelming popularity that the art form is currently enjoying.


Oh, yeah. Art form. About that.


The medium is not the message when it comes to burlesque. The 'art' of burlesque doesn't lie in the removal of clothes on a stage. The art lies in the performer's ability to use burlesque as a platform for commentary, character and entertainment. This kind of controlled tomfoolery and confrontation smacks of Shakespeare's fool and that, to me, is indeed a skilled performance. 


I don't believe good burlesque is about expensive costumes, oversized props and backup dancers. It takes hard work, talent and a certain 'X' factor. But everyone's gotta start somewhere. Right?


I studied burlesque for a year before I stepped on a stage and I brought with me a background in performance studies and theatre. Other performers have backgrounds in ballet, singing, dance or circus. No matter where we come from, every one of us mines our existing skill base in order to build our own brand of burlesque. You've got to use what you have honey, it's just that some happen to have more than others. Kelly Ann Doll spins around in sit-the-fuck-down acrobatic feats, sweeping audiences off their feet. The recently emerged Ember Flame couples twisted linguistics with strip. And the unflappable Laren LaRouge mercilessly plucks away at your heart with a well-travelled uke and smoky vocal.


I find just as much joy in watching Imogen Kelly suspended supreme from the heavens as I do watching Lillian Starr getting fresh with a baked good, or Rita Fontaine waxing political in rubber gloves. Everyone brings something of their own to the mix. The point is that none of it is unfounded. 


I say thank fuck that we're all different. Otherwise, what a boring, sad little community we'd be, with nothing to inspire or aspire to!


All performers - amateur, professional, iconic, whatever - have a responsibility to ensure that their performance style (whatever that might be) is cultivated, individual and continually developing. There's a safe place for amaterish expression, just as there's a very different place for skilled profession. And we all have to earn our stripes.


I might not be able to do a backflip, and I daren't ever subject an audience to my warbling, but I don't believe this renders me without 'skill'. There's so much more behind my twisted little tales than a pretty costume, pricey prop and tassel twirl. I'd like to think that, as with many of the performers on the circuit whom I love and admire, our special skill lies in our ability to move our audience - to invoke a character and ignite the stage with energy and raw emotion - all without uttering a single word.