That Fringe Fest Feeling

(Source: Flickr/Arlo Bates.)

Last weekend I spent an afternoon with a good friend enjoying the Winnipeg Fringe Theatre Festival. I arrived in the downtown’s Exchange District a little before my friend did, so after grabbing a coffee, I headed to Old Market Square, found a shady bench, and settled in for some people-watching while I passed the time. 

Old Market Square is the hub of Fringe activity, with an outdoor stage, buskers, a market, and food trucks, and at 11 a.m. it was just beginning to fill up. And for blocks around in every direction, show venues were scattered, tucked into everything from century-old warehouses to traditional theatres, bars, boardrooms, and beyond. 

Our plan was to meet up and then find a show and just see where the afternoon took us.

What Fringe Feels Like

I hadn’t been to the Fringe in a long time, and as we started wandering about, I almost immediately found myself lamenting that fact. The atmosphere on the street and throughout the area was wonderfully vibrant and exciting. It was the 12th and final day of the festival, and every bulletin board (and other tape-able surface, it seemed) was covered with posters promoting individual shows. After nearly two weeks, many were looking a little worse for wear, but to my eye, they didn’t look messy. They looked like life and color and possibility.

The festival had also brought in some extra amenities that really improve a place: a water truck where folks could refill a cup or water bottle, and a bank of porta-potties with—gloriously!—running water for handwashing.

But the biggest difference between our time at Fringe and a typical day downtown is how many more people there were hanging out—so many more. Everywhere you looked there were people: volunteers staffing info tents and ticket tables, others lounging in the beer gardens, lining up to buy tickets or get into a venue, talking to each other with dog-eared programs in hand, studying posters, walking around, exploring… Just people everywhere, having a great time, wanting to be there. 

(Source: Flickr/Dave Shaver.)

Why Fringe Feels Good

My friend and I had such a great afternoon ambling through the Exchange, popping into shops, pausing to grab a food truck lunch, and, of course, settling on a few shows to attend. When I came home I found myself thinking what a difference it could make to downtown if we could get even a fraction of that Fringe Fest feeling year-round. And, in reflecting on the experience, I was struck at how much the very nature of fringe festivals has to teach us about building a vibrant and thriving downtown.

Walkable and Discoverable

This is made possible by having a high concentration of possible places to visit within a relatively small walkshed. A key part of the Fringe experience is the ability to discover great shows by talking to other Fringers or just taking a chance. It creates an environment where people feel at ease to explore and can make spontaneous decisions, essentially creating the type of choose-your-own-adventure experience that’s hard to recreate when you’re driving.

Accessible

From the perspective of the artists, Fringe is a non-juried festival, and productions are selected by a lottery or first-come-first-served model. The barrier to entry, to start from nothing and create something, doesn’t get much lower than that. For attendees, the ticket prices are very low compared to traditional mainstream theater, and this year, kids’ tickets were even pay-what-you-can. On top of that, there was lots of free entertainment and opportunities to participate without spending any money. It’s an event where all are invited and welcome to join in.

Diverse

Fringe offers something for everyone: magic, musicals, stand-up, drama, improv, and everything in between. The diversity of the genres and shows is a draw (the potential to stumble onto something unexpected and wonderful), and a strength (the whole being much more than the sum of its parts).

New Ideas for Old Spaces

You know that Jane Jacobs quote that “new ideas need old buildings”? It’s perfectly apt for Fringe, which for performers is a low-stakes way to get experience, try out new material, gain exposure, and network with others in the art world (many a Hollywood legend got their start at a fringe festival). You can’t just waltz onto the main stage, but a little stage nestled in a basement pub is just right.

Built on Small Bets

From a production standpoint, everything is smaller, and performances are generally shorter than in conventional theater. And for Fringe-goers, it’s easier to take risks because the stakes are small. Didn’t love the burlesque mime extravaganza you took a chance on? No worries, it was only an hour of your life and there’s a different show starting in half an hour. My friend and I wound up going to a magic show (amazing!) and a one-man play (just not our thing)—both were memorable.

Crafted by Many Hands

There’s no denying that Fringe is a massive operation, but a huge part of it is a decentralized, bottom-up, distributed effort. The overseeing festival organization generally provides a basic level of service and promotion of the event at large, but artists promote and produce their own shows, and hundreds of volunteers help it all come together. And, on top of all that, there are all the downtown businesses that offer extended hours, drink specials, and other promotions to add to the party atmosphere.

All of these can be applied to our downtowns. By digging into what makes fringe festivals so successful, we can begin to embrace these principles to create a downtown that’s more vibrant all the time, not just a few times a year during special events. 

In reading the Wikipedia entry on fringe festivals, I learned that although the first ever Fringe festival was held in Edinburgh, there are now more fringe festivals in North America than any other continent, a superlative I think we should celebrate—and draw inspiration and wisdom from.

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