Monday
Monday morning of the final week of Edinburgh International Festival (EIF): inevitably a slower day as most venues are dark or fitting up. The weeks leading up to now have been a whirlwind; packed houses, happy artists, good reviews – by all accounts it’s going really rather well. This is the point in the cycle where tiredness starts to hit the team, a brief drop in energy before another wave of adrenaline kicks in for the final sprint. It’s in this in-between state that I spend the afternoon in a talk by Dr. Sarah Lewis, a keynote address that reflects on her work on aesthetic force, the power of the image, and the role of art in social justice. It’s hard to be anything other than humbled, and immensely grateful that this is “another day at the office”.
At a networking event that evening, I’m part of a conversation with two other women, each of us in different stages of life living in different countries. Very quickly, once we’ve shared the notable things we’ve seen, we find ourselves tussling age-old quandaries of heartbreak, motherhood and career ambition in a way that’s both comforting and empowering.
Tuesday
Waking up after a heavy sleep to a day with lots of running around venues as three companies are preparing to open shows on Wednesday. One of the best parts of this job is welcoming a company to our festival, artists that we’ve spent maybe months or years in discussion with, watching the productions build into our venues – no longer negotiating theory.
Cut to our Creative Director, Roy Luxford, and I doing a supermarket sweep for green room supplies – the comedy in buying more than we can reasonably carry, the satisfaction of a simple hands-on task. This evening we watch a special work-in-progress sharing from Simon McBurney, an intelligent piece of storytelling and a gift to spend an hour in his company – one of those rare opportunities that this festival offers to see an artist’s creative process manifest.
Wednesday
Fresh pastry and coffee take the edge off a bittersweet morning, a good friend ending an era as she leaves Edinburgh this week to start a new adventure. Life goes on outside the festival bubble (though sometimes I wish it wouldn’t). Three productions open tonight (almost) without a hitch. When multiple shows open, we divide and conquer who watches what, but almost always manage to arrange a first-night drink for the companies together, a way to thank our artists, to celebrate.
Thursday
Caravan’s annual International Producer’s Breakfast kicks off a networking-filled day. I am invited to give an introduction on behalf of the International Festival as a partner of this event; I offer something about “the truth we seek” banner that cuts across our programme this year and attempt to recognise the role of artists and producers in their pursuit of “truth” in testing times. The afternoon consists of a pitch session and a meeting with some emerging producers from across the UK, Denmark and Canada.
They ask insightful questions about risk appetite and the responsibility of cultural institutions. That evening, I watch Faustus in Africa! from Handspring Puppet Co and William Kentridge, then host the post-show talk. The question of the Faustian bargain feels ever more relevant to explore on our stages, and in what better way than with poetry and puppetry. Lots of the audience stays to listen to what the company has to share.
Friday
I can’t lie – my social skills are wavering (and my voice literally is too). However, Friday night is Nederlands Dans Theater night, the final production to open in our 2025 season. Having been lucky to see the premiere of Figures in Extinction in February, I know what a treat awaits the audience. Before this, I take a quiet moment to myself in the office to change clothes, eat and apply a fresh coat of make-up. It’s amazing how quickly these weeks go by, and how easy it is to be in constant motion, that simply savouring the moment feels luxurious! We have a pre-show reception that brings together colleagues and stakeholders in a buzzy anticipation of what’s to come. And every minute of this show lives up to it.
Saturday
Things begin to slow down a little today and I abandon my laptop in order to catch some shows on the Fringe. In between these, I fit in coffees and catch-ups with friends, reconnecting again with the “outside world”, an impossible balance to get right, even after twelve festivals. Festival FOMO also ceases, and I am home before 8.30pm, blissfully asleep soon after.
Sunday
It’s the final day of the 2025 International Festival. Throughout August, I have been very slowly reading Samantha Harvey’s Orbital (perhaps another sign of a need to maintain perspective on the world outside of Edinburgh) and as I near the end, I read “with each sunrise nothing is diminished or lost and every single one staggers them”. It could be extreme tiredness, or just poetic sensibility, but I’m taken with the idea of beginnings, and by consequence, endings, that it evokes. Here we are after months, or in some cases years, of planning to get to the moment where we can say “we did it”! I watch Figures in Extinction again in the afternoon (even better for the third time) and later we close with a late-night gig from jazz bassist Endea Owens and her band, The Cookout in our home venue, The Hub. A fittingly joyous way to bow out.
