My first Fringe was with a sketch group called ‘Backwards Anorak’. We performed at The Garden, and during the day I’d also work as front-of-house. It was a real mix of doing the creative side and the logistical side. I think it’s important to work on both ends, as it helps you understand the festival better. That’s something we’re doing as Ambassadors, too—we’re here to help navigate the experience and support everyone!

It’s surreal to think how far I’ve come! I started off working behind the scenes and performing, and now I’m an Ambassador for Adelaide Fringe. It feels like a recognition of everything I’ve worked towards, but also a reminder of how special this festival is. Adelaide Fringe is a platform that’s given me so many opportunities to grow as a performer, and I’m excited to now help others discover that same magic.

It’s the sense of trust between the artists and the audience. The audiences here really want to see something new and are open to taking risks. They understand that this is a space for experimentation, and I think that’s what makes the Fringe such a unique place. Artists are constantly evolving, and the audience’s willingness to be part of that process is something that makes this festival really special.

Just dive in! Take chances, go see shows you wouldn’t normally go to, and really immerse yourself in the festival. It’s not just about the big names—it’s about supporting the people who are starting out and experimenting with new ideas. And, of course, come see my show! (laughs)

For me, the Fringe is about community. I’ve made some lifelong friends here—my chosen family. I was going to Fringe one year and I had a breast cancer scare. It runs in my family and it was really, really scary. I was desperate to go and do my show. So I came and I spent a week waiting for really scary test results at Adelaide Fringe. I was surrounded by clowns and friends and music, and I didn't have to think about being afraid of being sick. It’s that sense of belonging that makes the Fringe such a life-changing experience. (I was all fine, by the way).

The arts are a source of hope. They give us stories that help us change, grow, and understand ourselves and the world. But more than that, they provide an escape—a way to forget our worries for a while and just be. In times like these, we need the arts more than ever. They remind us that we can still laugh, still dream, and still create something meaningful.

My show in 2025 is called ‘It’s a Shame We Won’t Be Friends Next Year’. It’s based on a real moment from Year 6 when a boy told me we wouldn’t be friends in high school. He said he didn’t think people would like me. So, I tracked him down to find out why. It’s a show about looking back on those moments from childhood and questioning how they shape us. It’s deeply personal, but I think it’s something a lot of people can relate to.