I didn’t get into theatre to race towards a finish line or to win gold medals. I came because the theatre was a place where I could live in an ephemeral space between the “real” world and the world of my imagination – which is no less real to me. It was growing up in Calgary where I found my place in the community of individuals that coalesce around the theatre. I am still here because of all of you, my colleagues. You care as much as I do about the deliciously wicked problems of making something that has never been made before. The conversations we have when we are working are an intoxicating kind of intimacy. We play in the territory where the imagined and the embodied intermingle and come to life. And then we give it all away.

I am honoured to be among this year’s cohort of artists. Anne-Marie, Ravi and Estelle: your work brings delight, truth, big questions, and joy to so many. I’m inspired by the ways each of you have rooted your work in the communities you serve. We share a belief that theatre is not complete without the audience.

Tonight, that is you who is taking in my words; you are the audience. I believe so strongly in the importance of your presence that I make shows where I get to look you each in the eye, where we could touch – but only if you want to. I think about your attention, your laughter, that inscrutable face you make when you’re listening and I can’t tell if you love it or hate it, I look forward to the conversations we have after the show.

Thank you to the Siminovitch Theatre Foundation, to the board, Aimee, the team, and to the selection committee. This year in particular, your job was not to compare apples to oranges, but apples to octopus. I’m deeply grateful for the shift in criteria to celebrate this 25th anniversary of the Siminovitch Prize. There are many artists in Canada whose work sits between disciplines out of necessity and curiosity. That our Canadian theatre community values work that investigates the margins and interrogates conventions speaks to our collective ability to evolve and welcome difference. Navigating difference – and whatever discomfort that might follow – is increasingly important in an era defined by division, partisanship, and binaries. As theatre artists, we have the ability to be present in complex spaces that are full of ambiguity. By witnessing our acts of attending to complexity, to nuance, to contradiction, perhaps our audiences can find insight, understanding, and relief.

To my parents – all three of you – thank you for teaching me that weird is good. To my sisters, thank you for being my first companions in collective creation. To my children, thank you for teaching me about presence. Thank you to Nathan Medd for pretending that I’m smarter than him, and for convincing me that I stood a chance to try for this prize. Thank you to Dani Fecko and Kirsty Munro, who encouraged me when I wanted to quit. And to all those who contributed to my nomination package: David Yee, Amiel Gladstone, Eric Coates, Kevin Kerr, Milton Lim, Lisa Ravensbergen and my bestie JD Derbyshire – who I know is cheering me on from the big velvet seats in the sky, swapping stories in the lobby with Norman Armour and Kathleen Flaherty. I think about the three of you regularly and strive to put what I’ve learned from you into action: to ask the hard questions, to follow the signs, and to trust that, together, we can figure it out.