Suzanne Rofe, 24, Nedlands

I write stuff. It is not always great stuff. It’s sometimes funny, it’s sometimes bad, it sometimes makes me reflect that we all have a lot to learn. I write stuff for actors and actresses to say which hopefully makes them look good. I write long and silly descriptions of what a stage should look like. I’ve been known to write Antarctica into the set descriptions. I like to think I keep my poor stage managers on their toes. Keep them challenged. I’m good like that.

ME: You know what? Lets hang chicken coops from the roof!

STAGE MANAGER: You trying to be funny?

I have a thing for self-depreciation and long and involved flights of fancy. The trouble seems to be reining them back enough to avoid ultra-artsy. You know – painting myself red and rolling around on a sheet composed of the outstretched wings of comatose pigeons. Not to say that doesn’t work for some people. Just not me. Ultra-artsy is admirable. And very impressive. But I find myself far too pre-occupied with how this character lisps when they get nervous. And how this character sways a lot more when they think they’re being watched.

I found myself in the middle of the Cultural Centre, not long ago. Being the materialistic consumer that I am, I was on my way down to Keith + Lottie to make little delighted noises at leather journals and babushkas. I passed PICA on the way. There was a picture of a man in a bear suit, out the front, on his hands and knees and doing I don’t know what. I stopped and looked at it, and thought – you know what? That’s an image that grabs me. That is AWEsome. I want to know more about this man in a bear suit. Moving further – I passed the Blue Room. There was a poster out the front – for Duck Duck Goose, featuring a young lady in fifties style underwear with a gas mask and a roast goose. A roast goose, you say? A gas mask, you say? And I stopped and stared, and thought – wow. Who can produce better, more arresting ideas and concepts than this bunch? Who can produce a main image that grabs you by the head and slaps you around the face? I’m a fan of the kind of effort that vies for your attention, instead if sitting back, crossing its fingers across its belly and going, “it’s fine. They’ll turn up.” And it struck me as I wove my way down past the Rechabites Hall – that was it. That’s what’s good about Perth arts. Nothing is lazy, nothing is taken for granted. There’s a kind of devilish recklessness about it all.

I reflected on high school, and how the arts scene had felt like a wasteland for me then. Now, here and looking back, I’ve twigged. Young people – there is stuff happening; there is events, but there isn’t a route of communication to them. So get the teachers in on it, send out the good news to high schools and primary schools everywhere; sing it from the roof – if you want to learn how to walk on stilts and master the trapeze, there are circus schools in Perth. If you want to write theatre, but don’t know how you get them up and running, there are piles of lovely people out there who are happy to tell you how – in Perth. There are bands, there are clubs, and there are opportunities. This city in expanding like an inflating octopus and there are things – things – cropping up everywhere. Things! Who would have thought??

I bought Babushka earrings and a stack of street press publications. I totally recommend the jewelry in there.