Artistic Director of Australian Theatre for Young People (atyp), Fraser Corfield, has announced that Aaron Beach will join atyp this month as their new General Manager.

Aaron joins atyp with 15 years of experience in the theatre industry in Australia. Since graduating from WAAPA he has worked with some of Australia’s leading arts organisations. Aaron joined Bangarra Dance Theatre as Production Manager in 2007 direct from stints as Production Manager for Barking Gecko Theatre Company (2003-2006) AWESOME Arts Festival (2004 – 2006) and Australian Theatre for Young People (2000-2002).

Aaron has also worked with the Old Fitzroy Theatre and Deckchair Theatre. He was also awarded the 2001 ArtsWA Young People and the Arts Professional Development Fellowship.

Fraser Corfield says “We are very excited to be welcoming Aaron back to Australian Theatre for Young People as General Manager.  He brings a wealth of experience working at the highest levels of the Australian performing arts industry and a detailed understanding of this extraordinary company.”

The only rule was, the monologue has to start with the line “She looked me in the eyes and said…”

The monologues were judged by Lachlan Philpott alongside our very own Fresh Ink writers. Here is what they chose. A beautiful piece written by Grant Moxom. Congratulations Grant!

She looks me in the eyes and says “Sometimes I dream about being buried alive”

And then

She begins to spin

To die?

No, she says, to be buried and alive

I tell her she is being silly, but she does not listen

I don’t think she can anymore

Faster and faster she spins, a blur of band logo and show dates, of black and white and flecks of red.

I am standing on a one-man runway between infinite fields of grass.

Her feet dislodge the earth, the dust rises like a wall before me

Higher and higher it grows, I am a dwarf, a child, I feel young and helpless and joyful and free.

It reaches as high as the greatest kite flight

Higher than stratus clouds

And then

It begins to fall

It starts from the front.

The shadows are beautiful.

I take off my Jacket, my shirt, my shoes, my socks, my pants, my underwear.

I take off... and it’s a bit like flying

The lights begin to dim as tires and rocks and earth and water and life comes hurtling down with elastic slowness.

The speed of sinking

The weight hits me and I am engulfed – warm earth surrounds me, dragging me down.

Some people say you can’t see gravity or wind – only know its effects

I can see gravity

It’s a sort of a stretching, like weights hanging from an old man’s face, there are creases in the sky which drag everything down which seems to be getting too high an opinion of itself

I am engulfed – covered completely, compressed and caressed. A body pressing upon me, and the gentle touch of hickies on my neck, fingers of dust running through my hair

Each snap of bones is crisp and sweet, I inhale the lemon taste of blood and bile and realise how sweet the flavour is.

I remember lying on the bottom bunk of her bed so long ago as she lay on the ground reading a book. She looked up and our eyes met and she said “Sometimes I dream we are being buried alive” And I said “If I kissed you right now would you stop me?” into the pillow while I wished the earth would hold my heart and fingers and eyes to stop them from squeezing so painfully.

The snaps underscore the building rushing in my ears, I throb, my toes curl.

It is like waking up sober from a dream about hangovers

The earth presses down and I spread out – becoming part of the ground – seeping like mercury through the gaps in the earth.

I make angels in the dirt underground

And I feel a breath expel as the final tension in my lungs releases and sends dirt skittering around my cheeks and gushing into my mouth – filling my body.

I am covered completely, untouchable, my bones becoming fossils behind my clothes, behind my skin. Becoming memories like tree-stump rings.

But instead, I pull my sheets up and imagine that it is the earth and soil which holds me down. She spins in that way of hers and I smile with my cheeks and lips and eyebrows and I make sure the blanket is heavy on my toes – because my bed is too small, and my feet poke out.

by atyp's Fresh Ink writers plus Hilary Bell, Vanessa Bates and more.
Co-directed by Lachlan Philpott & Luke Kerridge

My skirt is not my story. My scars won't tell you where I come from and my smile won't betray what i have seen. You'll have to ask me. Go on. Look me in the eye and let me lie to you. Go on, trust me.

Tell it Like it Isn’t is a short, sharp, evocative collection of monologues written by some of Australia’s leading young playwrights, with a smattering of our most respected writers’ thrown in. See if you can spot the difference. Each piece is crafted for an actor aged between 16 and 20. Subtle, uplifting, poetic and funny, these pieces are as exciting and diverse as the young actors that perform them.

Suitable for ages 14+

Bookings: Click here 

For school bookings: please contact our Education Manager on (02) 9270 2400