I am always curious when the fest sales figures come out.<\/p>\n
They will be out at noon, promises CEO Tony Lankester.<\/p>\n
There’s always a bit of a moment around these dull stats as if, after 41 years, the I-told-you-so grundies, and those in the arts who hunger to have the extravaganza land on their big-city doorstep, can be gratified and smug. <\/p>\n
One wonders who is being parochial here. I suspect it is those who innately resent the sheer brilliance of a rural Eastern Cape success story.<\/p>\n
Or those, like myself, who proudly believe in that brilliance, who see and feel the significance of this home-grown international event.<\/p>\n
The problem for the critics and the blindly ambitious is that festival propaganda has worked for 41 years, because it is essentially true.<\/p>\n
There’s always that self-destructive shadow in artists mixed in with ruthless ambition. And then there’s the Mariachi’s comment that all art, especially theatre is lies, dam lies.<\/p>\n
The truth is all in the ticket.<\/p>\n
Throw those bones Lankester.<\/p>\n
The dogs are waiting.<\/p>\n
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