In transition - on being a student & professional performer

Having a brand meeting is one thing. It's exciting! You have a professional web designer who knows what they're doing, and they deal with all the scary buttons that make technology work for you. You discuss colour schemes - what suits your skin tone, the standard colours of your costumes - and how to incorporate these into the overall design of the website that either screams at, or subtly suggests to your online consumer base "This is who I am".

Finding a brand name is quite another thing, and is, I would say, the hardest part of the branding process. My team and I were looking for something that spoke to my nickname & job specification ("songbird", and variations thereof), as well as my multicultural ancestral & musical heritage: South African, English, Irish & Scottish. Eventually, a member of my extended family found the answer in a South African bird book. The Forest Weaver.

After deciding upon a name, it was time for the photo shoot. I wore jewelry handmade by women from all over South Africa, my grandmother's tartan kilt, and used make-up to attempt to achieve a forest-weaver-like effect. Add the venue (Newlands Forest, Cape Town), and we were good to go.

But eventually, you reach the point-of-no-return, where your finger shakily hovers over the "publish" button, announcing to your Facebook friends that you and your team have "done the things" and are placing you onto (almost) every social media platform under the sun. EEK!

There exists a space which performers are well acquainted with: the liminal, transitional space. I have occupied this "plekkie" since second year university. The moment that I made my professional debut as a soloist on the 2017 Grahamstown National Arts Fringe Festival, with a show of my own design, a shift occurred. The distinction between "student realm" and "working world" became blurred.

I'm not sure about everyone else, but for me, in making the move from school to university, I expected that there would be a natural progression to things, and that this would occur in distinct steps. I expected that I would only really encounter "real world professional things" beyond university. And that university would equip me with the skills necessary to do these things.

Instead, I twirled (literally) onto a teeny festival concert stage, and learned (on the spot) how to promote my concert in less than 10 minutes, with one song. A musician & I marched up and down the streets of Grahamstown (and the isles of Pick n Pay), performing & handing out flyers. I learnt about strategic media release, and how to be concise with blurbs & bios. My pianists and I found ourselves "on tour"; and I learnt all of this outside the lecture space.

Now an Honours student, with a fundraiser, 2 concept concerts, and 2 concert tours under my belt, things are coming full circle, and in June, I'll find myself on NAF'18 as an Arena Artist.

If I can advocate anything, whether you are in the arts or studying accounting, it's to step out of the student vs professional box, and instead, put one foot in each. It's scary, and exhausting, and you sometimes don't know what's cooking. Then things get better, clearer. You get very good at juggling, and constantly learn new administrative skills. But most importantly, you start treating every performance, not as an academic box to tick, but as an opportunity to say to your teachers, panels, and audiences "I value you taking the time to come and listen to me. Thank you for your investment. This is who I am".

"Opera Found" at Richmond House Museum and Music Room, Port Alfred. From Left: Douglas Bullis (friend and impressario), Emma Farquharson, Garreth Robertson (pianist), Sue Gordon (manager of Richmond House), Jo-Nette Le Kay (voice coach)