The Edmonton International Fringe Theatre Festival is buzzing with energy this year, showcasing the creativity and determination of artists, particularly through the lens of one-woman shows. Playwright Madi May has made headlines with her novel adaptation of Fantomina, written by Eliza Haywood almost 300 years ago. The story centers on one woman, who discreetly transforms herself to partake in romantic escapades with the same man, which raises intriguing questions about identity and deception.
May, embracing the spirit of independent theater, has turned this classic narrative canvas blank on its head by presenting it as a one-woman show, showcasing her versatility as both writer and performer. “I think theatre is the most unrealistic form of art. And you have to suspend your disbelief and you have to just go with the story, because otherwise it’s just not as fun,” May explains, nudging the audience to accept the play’s premise.
Participators of this year’s festival may find themselves immersed not just in acting but also experiencing the mental gymnastics actors like May encounter. For her, doing it solo adds layers of complexity—“Everyone knows it’s intimidating,” she says, stating the challenge is “part of the fun.” It’s a delightful juxtaposition, combining her love for the narrative and the distinct, personal challenge of going it alone.
Similarly, Laura Piccinin, another one-woman artist at the festival, captures her grit and humor with her show titled Go. This performance chronicles her grueling yet transformative experience hiking the East Coast Trail, all framed through her richly detailed journal entries. “I went through it with so much drama and pain—but I came out stronger,” she reflects, emphasizing the importance of resilience highlighted through her comedic delivery.
It’s evident from both women’s stories how the weight of solo performances is not just about capturing the audience; it's about survival. Piccinin confides, “All I’m doing is thinking about how do I get people there?” Despite their different themes, both narratives resonate deeply with the audience, who may chuckle one moment and ponder complex feelings the next.
While the festival revels in creative expressions, it’s not all sunshine. Festival organizers face their own challenges. Megan Dart, the executive director, has stated the festival is working hard to overcome financial hurdles. Coming out of the pandemic, many arts organizations have been left vulnerable, reliant on funding and sponsorship which have been inconsistent.
This year, the festival aims to recover roughly $300,000 to maintain its long-term viability, having so far raised around $100,000. Dart remains optimistic, openly stating, “I’m so grateful we didn’t need to make any cuts this year, but we have to look at where we can reduce costs without sacrificing the overall experience.”
Such challenges echo across the arts industry, but the festival bravely strides forward, determined to keep the creative spirit alive. Running until August 25, the festival showcases over 200 productions scattered across dozens of venues, providing diverse stories and experiences to Edmonton’s Old Strathcona neighbourhood.
Meanwhile, on another occasion, biking has emerged as more than just transportation for many, evolving instead as vehicles of passion, purpose, and personal growth. Take the story of Bernie Goodman from North Vancouver, who shares his unique connection with biking. His spirit of exploration stems from childhood memories of cycling adventures—those carefree days full of freedom. Goodman recalls, “Biking is not just transportation; it’s joy.”
Even when faced with unyielding winter conditions, Goodman remains undeterred. The cold rain hitting his face might seem suffocative, yet the metaphorical weight of the ride does not stop him it ignites his spirit even more. “Biking keeps me grounded; it connects me to both nature and my inner child. Whether battling elements or brainstorming under the open sky, it’s always refreshing,” he remarks.
He also emphasizes how biking serves as therapy. Challenging days at work and family squabbles fade beneath him as he wheels away his worries. “Mad at my spouse? I bike it out. By the time I reach home, I’ve often forgotten my frustration,” he quips. Such is the beauty of biking: it clears the mental fog and offers clarity.
Goodman aims to instill this passion for biking within his son. Their early rides, with the little one snugly strapped to the bike trailer, were filled with laughter and playful banter. Despite the occasional spills—like the one when he somersaulted over the handlebars at the local BMX track—each adventure strengthens their bond. “Even after tumbles, I get back on. It’s about the experience,” he adds with warmth.
It’s this blend of facing challenges and celebrating victories, large and small, which forms the essence of biking for Goodman. He metaphorically likens cycling to life’s inherent challenges and triumphs: “Life is much like riding; it’s about moving forward and enjoying the ride.”
Further diverging yet again, the rise of zero-proof alcohol reflects shifts within social dynamics. A personal narrative follows Dave, who recounts his transition to non-alcoholic drinks. Initially, sipping on non-alcoholic beer made him feel the focal point of judgment from others. With so many of his peers enjoying their drinks, he felt out of place; he wondered if others saw his choices as abnormal.
Two years down the line, he notes there’s been significant cultural transformation. The explosion of non-alcoholic options has made choices more accessible and socially acceptable: “These days, no one bats an eye at BBQs when I crack open my Partake.”
His experience is echoed by trends charted by NielsenIQ, showing surging sales and evolving attitudes across demographics. Non-alcohol drink options are sprouting up across major brands as visibility and market accessibility increases, allowing for more casual conversations about choices sans stigma. Even Heineken sells non-alcoholic variants, capturing the attention of sports fans and casual social drinkers alike.
For Dave, being sober-curious offers him moments of clarity rather than spinning out of control. It’s not about forsaking fun times but embracing life as it flows, unencumbered by potential hangovers or regrets. “I like to savor my interactions, be present,” he says, concluding with the statement: “Booze-free doesn’t mean boring.”
There’s a shared theme of passion interwoven within all three narratives, presenting diverse reflections on life’s journeys. From one-woman shows depicting historical tales to biking adventures and sociocultural shifts toward sober living, all resonate with joy, resilience, and personal growth.
