Organised Chaos - behind the scenes with Fringe street performers
Fringe veteran maintains cultural street life benefits city as "happy shoppers spend more money"
It’s impossible to cross the Mound or the High Street right now without seeing someone dancing on 10 ft stilts, juggling burning chainsaws or doing some other fantastical trick. For some it brings a smile, for others a despairing eye roll. But like ‘em or not, street performers are a fundamental part of the Edinburgh Fringe, writes Sarah McArthur.
But did you ever wonder about those people occupying their own temporary pavement stage, and a hundred or more people standing as their totally impromptu audience? Street performance may look like anarchy from the outside, but those involved know it walks a fine line of organised chaos which keeps it thriving as an accessible, spontaneous art form.
“There’s something about the kind of person who is attracted to street work and the main thing is that they don’t want to be completely organised. If you try and do something to them, they will fight you on it, but if you bring them the problems that you have and involve them in the discussion, they will come up with far better ways of solving the problem than you can. Because we’re creative people” says Dave Southern, who first came to Edinburgh as a street performer in 1987.
Since then he has been involved in performing and advocating for street performers across the UK, liaising with local authorities and festival organisers. Southern’s main event this year is a walking tour called Pavementology; a celebration of the history of street performance, along with his Peewee the Drumming Puppet. Sitting with Southern at the foot of the Mound, it’s obvious that he, and his wee dog Pepe, are familiar faces here; with our conversation routinely interrupted by micro-reunions with fellow performers or Fringe organisers.
From the Jungle to the name-draw: making stages on Edinburgh’s streets
The foot of the Mound was first discovered by street performers in the late 70s and early 80s. Southern explains to me that as the space got busier, the performers designated different “pitches” on the South side of the square. These pitches operated on a daily lineup, where everyone waited to perform in the order they arrived on the pitch. The two pitches would alternate their start times so that they could run shows simultaneously without having to compete to gather a crowd.
The northern side of the square, however, was the exact opposite. “It was affectionately known as the Jungle… it was dog-eat-dog,” Southern says, describing the melee of stalls, flyerers, performers doing snippets of their ticketed shows, on top of a dozen street performers doing their best to lure other performers’ audiences to see their shows.
Of course, things are far more formalised now, just like all aspects of the Fringe. Since the late 90s performers have had to register to gain access to predefined pitches in the areas licensed for Fringe street performance each year. The line-up for each pitch has remained as spontaneous as it can; performers meet each morning for a name draw to decide who gets which spot.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to The Edinburgh Inquirer to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.