Justin Nurse, the satirist who hit headlines with his Laugh It Off T-shirts, has been infiltrating the nooks and crannies of Grahamstown to report to 2oceansvibe about what was the cat’s pajamas and bee’s knees during the Grahamstown Art Festival.

Yesterday, Part 1 of his Going Down In G Town diary was well-recieved and gave some insight into the build-up to showcasing his own play, White Guilt, at the festival.

Check out his next entry below:

Part Two: The One Where I Review Other People’s Stuff

“In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little, yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face, is that in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is probably more meaningful than our criticism designating it so. But there are times when a critic truly risks something, and that is in the discovery and defense of the *new*. The world is often unkind to new talent, new creations. The new needs friends…” ~ Anton Ego, Ratatouille

Easy to hate, hard to create. Tough job either way, seeing as the talent pool is still small (you could wipe out half our country’s theatre world in one foul swoop on any given night in Grahamstown at The Long Table). Some that I offend here below seek me out for an arm wrestle there next year…

Firstly, Cape Town, why should you care? Well, part of the National Arts Festival will be coming to Cape Town in September/October as part of a new theatre initiative called Cape Town Fringe. 

But before we get there, let’s address the white elephant in the room…

Eastern Cape: you should have the Kings and you can give us the queens. It’s a downright moral atrocity that the EP Kings aren’t playing Super Rugby and it’s a long-held, misguided conviction rancorously decaying in the conservative backwaters of Settlers Monument thinking (read: the powers that be) that sees our national arts festival still mired in the poverty of the Eastern Cape.

For our national arts festival to thrive and not just survive, shit has gotta get relocated to Cape Town. The rest of the country can Kulula it down here and hey, all the international folk we are harbouring for tax evasion can come support the arts too. The artists involved might even make some money. Just as good an argument can be made for Joburg, and I’d even throw Durbs’ name in the hat. Sadly, anywhere but Grahamstown.

Festival is tired there. Traders on the Village Green are moaning (I’m one of them too, with my Ts) as the whites are safely ensconced on the Rhodes University Great Field while Africa is kept at bay on High Street and beyond. People slip in and out of shows at the various school halls, then go for a drink at the Rat & Parrot, and then go home. There’s a moerse midweek slump in between the weekends that are filled mostly with PE day-trippers. There’s no real street scene to speak of. No chance of a Mardi Gras. Make Obz or Melville the Festival Hub and let’s get this party started.

I’m losing you, I know, and I also love Grahamstown like an ex-girlfriend you still wanna shag. Eventually we all have to grow up though and the simple, loose syllogism is that:

1)    Art has the power to change our lives for the better.

2)    International cities have the capacity to reach the most people.

3)    Our national arts festival deserves to be in an international city like Cape Town.

There’s a shitload at stake and someone needs to say this. Instead an insular few trundle off to the Eastern Cape at the beginning of July to compete with Kelly and Jordy surfing, Kirkwood Festival and the lycra lovers running the Knysna Half Marathon. You needn’t care. But if you haven’t seen ‘Of Good Report’ – hands down the best SA movie ever made, banned at Durban Film Fest last year – then you damn well should.

Justin Nurse