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Ron Berry’s Fusebox Field Notes

One of my favorite parts of creating a festival is the work that almost no one ever sees. 

Before a performance reaches the stage, there are years of conversations, travel, studio visits, shared meals, late-night debates, and seeing far more performances than any reasonable person probably should. There are friendships that deepen over decades, ideas that slowly take shape, and countless moments when you stumble across an artist or a project and think, I wish people in Austin could experience this.

That work never really stops. It’s ongoing. It’s one of my favorite parts of the job, and I thought it might be fun to invite our supporters along for the journey.

I’ll start by saying that I believe deeply in cultural exchange. As an artist, and as a human, I have learned so much from artists in other parts of the world. The sharing of art and ideas across borders has cracked my world open in so many ways. It has changed my life. This exchange is a big part of our work with Fusebox, and so when I travel, it’s largely in service to this idea. It’s about creating avenues for connection and collaboration between the world and Austin, and vice versa.

While some of the artists and projects I encounter will eventually find their way to Fusebox, many won’t. More than anything, I’m trying to stay connected to artistic currents, and the people behind them.

I’m also interested in the environments where work is being made. Why did this work emerge from this place, at this particular moment? What conversations are artists having with each other, with their communities, and with the world? How are festivals evolving? What are other festivals doing that we could learn from? How do they connect with and celebrate the places they’re rooted in? And, always, what ideas might resonate in Austin?

What follows are a few notes from the road. Some things I saw, conversations I had, and questions I’m still carrying home.

Summer 2026 Melbourne: RISING Festival

RISING is one of my favorite multidisciplinary festivals. It’s got a heartbeat. It’s playful, irreverent, adventurous, and also full of ideas. If it were a person, it’d be someone you’d want to spend a Saturday night out on the town with.

The festival unfolds across Melbourne, a city I genuinely love. If you haven’t been, it’s well worth the trip. Fantastic food. Incredible coffee. A thriving music scene. A really vibrant dance community. It’s a cool city.

Full disclosure: I’m terrible at sleeping on planes.

Absolutely terrible.

By the time I landed in Melbourne I was operating in full zombie mode. Thankfully, my friend Jeff Khan (many of you will remember Jeff from his years guest curating with Fusebox) got me through the first night with the only force powerful enough to overcome 17 hours of jet lag: the promise of a really good dinner.

We spent the evening catching up and talking about the work he’s doing with Asia TOPA. He shared some of the new projects they’re commissioning with partners across the Asia-Pacific region. Ambitious projects, being supported over multiple years by multiple partners. Super inspiring. These are some of the moments I love most about these trips. The chance to reconnect with old friends and learn about projects that don’t yet exist. And also catching glimpses of creative worlds unfolding far beyond my own. It’s awesome.

Another reminder to self: Collaboration is the way.

Australia Dance Biennale

For the next five days, most of my time revolved around the inaugural Australian Dance Biennale, which unfolded inside RISING like a festival within a festival. I saw a pretty extraordinary range of works with a cohort of colleagues from around the world, and also attended the National Dance Summit which featured a brilliant talk by Amrita Hepi.

I love the idea of creating constellations of related works within a festival. It’s something we try to do with our guest curators at Fusebox. The projects begin to speak to one another in different ways. Some extra context is created.

Melbourne has a really awesome dance scene, by the way. Which immediately led me to another question:

How does a scene become a scene?

Is it affordable rehearsal spaces? Public funding? Universities? Long-term investment? One or two visionary artists or companies who create a certain kind of gravity? Avenues for connection & exchange with other artists (sharing of ideas)? Something else?

Probably some combination of all of those things. But I think about that a lot when thinking about Austin and the future of our artistic ecosystem and how best to support our artists.

Below are some performances that stayed with me, and a handful of ideas I’m still carrying around after five days of wandering through the festival.

FLORENTINA HOLZINGER: A Year Without Summer

There’s your life before you’ve seen a Florentina Holzinger show, and your life after. Her work is that memorable.

Many of you may have heard Florentina Holzinger’s name because of the enormous buzz surrounding her work at this year’s Venice Biennale. She’s been one of the most talked-about artists in contemporary performance for several years now. I’ve been tracking and watching her work for years, and was so excited that RISING was presenting one of her large-scale performance works as part of their festival.

To the uninitiated, her work is charged, provocative, funny, powerful, alive, breathtaking, and unlike anything else I’ve experienced (especially at that large scale). There are always moments where I laugh out loud, moments where I feel genuinely uncomfortable, and several moments that will forever be burned into my brain. Visceral, physical, and epic.

Here’s a link to her show (A Year Without Summer) that was presented at RISING.

Some thoughts on mystery

Full confession: I do like encountering things I don’t fully understand. I also completely understand why that can be frustrating. There’s a fine line sometimes between mystery and pretension, and some work absolutely crosses it. It can be pretty insufferable and annoying. I understand this deeply. I also think it’s essential we make space for artists to explore, stretch, and try things out. This is crucial.

I don’t think the goal of every artistic experience has to be immediate understanding. Some of the work I remember most asks me to stay curious a little longer.

That feels especially important right now. We live in a culture that rewards instant opinions and quick takes. Art can offer another possibility. It can invite us to slow down. Pay closer attention. Spend a little more time with a question before rushing toward an answer.

To be perfectly clear, I also love to be entertained. I love laughing. I love being moved. I love art that teaches me something or shifts the way I see the world. I love art that asks us to bear witness to people’s stories and uncomfortable truths. Those are all things art and performance are great at and I love those things.

But I also think there’s real value in spending time with work that doesn’t immediately reveal itself. Curiosity is a muscle. So is patience. Art gives us a chance to practice both. And I suspect those are qualities that serve us well far beyond the theater. The ability to stay curious in the face of something we don’t immediately understand is a beautiful way to move through the world. To choose questions over easy answers. To embrace complexity over certainty. To leave room for mystery instead of rushing toward neat conclusions.

Other Show Highlights:

The Shepherds by Carly Sheppard and Alisdair Macindoe (super interesting piece!)

God Save the Queens featuring Lady Shaka, Kween Kong, HALFQUEEN, JessB + Rubi Du, Neo Sun, Pasefika Vitoria Choir

Voyage Into Infinity by Narcissister (Fusebox fave. The legend! Incredible set with amazing vocals by Holland Andrews)

Forever & Ever by Antony Hamilton (Fusebox fave. Part of a double bill with Melanie Lane. Incredible design, and score)

Day Tripper featuring a ton of bands and musicians. Also a sort of festival within a festival.

Calling Country: The Land Speaks Back by Cannupa Hanska Luger, Djirri Djirri

The Forest by Lucy Guerin Inc (the acclaimed Melbourne-based choreographer)

Was super sad to miss Raven Chacon’s Voiceless Mass and Jenn Kidwell’s We Come to Collect.

Questions I’m Bringing Home:

  • What if curiosity is something we can nurture and cultivate?

  • What kinds of places make us feel more open?

  • What makes a good invitation?

  • How do we invite people into challenging work without making it feel exclusive?

  • What ingredients make a scene a scene?

  • What performances will I still be thinking about five years from now?

  • How can a festival help us pay closer attention to artists, to one another, and to the city we share?

  • What conversations should we be having here in Austin that we’re not having yet?

  • What conversations and ideas are happening in Austin that we should be sharing with the world?

Thanks for coming along.  I hope you find something unexpected that sparks your own curiosity.

— Ron