Let's go Off Stage

It was 2019. I’d just had my first child, and as I paced from room to room in our flat, a thought kept coming back to me: life as a performance had never been more obvious. Entering parenthood opened up a stage where I found myself being an observer of behaviours and a routine that often seemed mechanical and somewhat impersonal. The set was well designed, the lighting carefully arranged, and, above all, the script was polished through repetition.

I came across this performance everywhere: in the park, at a parent group, or at the child health clinic. And, perhaps most of all, online, on social media. I started to feel that I was losing focus in certain settings, looking for things in the periphery, offstage.

This, in itself, was nothing new to me, as I’ve always been drawn to what sits just out of sight, that small detail or gesture without a mask. As a child, I loved The Emperor’s New Clothes for exactly that reason: the missing clothes, what was not centre stage, and how a crowd of people applauded non-existent garments so as not to risk being perceived as stupid.

This is a phenomenon I find everywhere, moments where the emperor is clearly naked, yet the room expects admiration. You’re meant to clap, to join the chorus, to praise what everyone can see isn’t there. And the older I get, and as life moves on, I’m finding it harder to play my part. At least, convincingly. I want to talk about why the crowd was cheering the emperor on, or how we can find the courage to ask a question that may label us as dumb.

From this, the idea of Off Stage began. I wanted to create a space, a platform, where we can talk about naked moments, the ones we don't always present. A platform for creators, where thoughts, events, and experiences are allowed to exist, even if it's awkward, unpolished, or unperformed.

I hope you’ll come with us. That we can take off the costume, switch off the spotlight, and sit together, unscripted, offstage.

// Sofia