10.07.25
Dear Grif-friends,
My name’s Julian Larnach, I’m the Literary Associate at Griffin and in just over a week, after twelve and a half years at the company I’m finishing up.
My first experience with Griffin was in 2012, where as a postgraduate playwriting student I was invited to take part in a 24-hour playwriting challenge as part of the Festival of New Writing. It involved sculling generic purple-coloured energy drinks and taking power naps in the office I now many years later have a desk in and some truly questionable drafts of what would technically be called “playwriting”. The next morning, student directors picked up these drafts and that night I saw my ten-minute riff on William Blake’s The Tyger performed on the Griffin kite, I won an award presented by Artistic Director Sam Strong for ‘the best line clearly written at three A.M.’ (the line was “The windows are the windows to the house”) and I fell in love with this kooky little stage in an old stables.
In 2013, I was invited by newly minted Artistic Director Lee Lewis and Associate Artist Jane Bodie to come on as one of two Affiliate Writers—the program was quickly disassembled after we completed our tenure which means it either went really really well or really really badly. It was also during this time I began my real theatrical education in the form of working as a Front of House casual at the SBW Stables Theatre. Surrounded by a gun team of Bar Supervisors, Ticketing Managers and amazing volunteers I poured wines, had endless chats and learned a lesson from the late great bar volunteer David Latham that I still hold true to this day: “a show is only good if people are still talking about it by the time they reach the bottom of the Griffin stairs”. I’ve used this metric for every show I’ve seen at every theatre I’ve ever been to.
In 2020, when current Artistic Director Declan Greene took the reins of the company, I stepped out from behind the bar and became a member of the Artistic team as Literary Associate. This has meant I’ve helped run our Creative Programs (the Griffin Award, Griffin Studio, Griffin Ambassadors, Griffin Lookout and the Suzie Miller Award), helped put together our seasons of work each year, and read plays. Lots and lots of plays. During this time, with a keen focus on emerging writers I have met with over 250 writers (I should have kept receipts for at least one of those coffees I bought) and read over 1,200 plays. Two of those plays were Michelle Lim Davidson’s Koreaboo and Iolanthe’s SISTREN.
I remember Michelle came in for her interview for the Griffin Studio program with binders of cold hard data about how Korean exports act as soft power. When she entered the program, I was honoured to become her mentor and as the play progressed to production, her Dramaturg. Witnessing Michelle utilise her expertise to dive into her own experience to create a funny and filigree fiction. Creating a work that would bear witness to a personal history in such acute detail whilst speaking to a wider political moment with such grace, all while being effortlessly bi-lingual and including eisteddfod dances—phwoar. A real highlight of my career.
I remember when SISTREN arrived in our inbox from Australian Plays Transform, it announced a voice fully formed and a mission ready to be achieved. I remember tearing through the pages excited to see what Isla and Violet did next, said next, what structure they dismantled in articulate rage next. In awe after reading through it in a single sitting, I read Io’s writer’s statement describing a moment where her and her best friend Janet scoured the library for “juicy scenes with a black girl and trans girl” and not succeeding. She was writing this so the next generation of best friends would have something to pick up. Script—wow. Mission—double wow.
Both these shows sold out their seasons this week and both these shows reinforce for me a pretty big idea. Theatre—like a bridge, a school, a hospital—is a public good. A theatre’s job is to bridge gaps for us, educate us and heal us. At the core of this most ancient and civic enterprise are playwrights like Michelle and Iolanthe, and like our engineers, teachers, doctors and nurses, we ask the world from them. We send them away for years at a time on expeditions into their thoughts and emotions, then request they push these fathoms onto a page. After writing, rewriting, structuring and restructuring, expanding and distilling until they finally share a blueprint with a team of artists who bring it to life. A prism in front of a prism in front of a prism—each refraction aligning to illuminate a truth that set the playwrights out on their journey to begin with. Playwrights do this to thrill us, to make us laugh, to scare us into action. They do this because if everyone did it, the world would grind to a halt. That’s why it’s so important that there’s a theatre dedicated to them because they deserve it. But none of this would happen without you, the audience, and none of my time at Griffin would have been as amazing, frustrating, enlightening without you. It’s been an honour to call this place “work” for the last twelve and half years and I’m excited for the next twelve and half as part of your ranks.
See you in the theatre,
Julian Larnach
Literary Associate (outgoing)
Griffin Theatre Audience Member (incoming)
