from the editor
OPENING night in Melbourne for the rejigged Love Never Dies was a corker, and almost as fabulous as the launch day for MONA, David Walsh’s spectacularly individual private gallery in Hobart. Both were unashamedly big events, revelling in a super-saturation of the senses. Size doesn’t automatically relate to quality, naturally, but when our lives are circumscribed so often by the small and quotidian it can be thrilling to encounter something that leaps over the fence and heads for the horizon. I know many people don’t share my love of musicals — and certainly many don’t share my enthusiasm for MONA — but insert your own experience, whether it be the Ring cycle, the Venice Biennale, the works of Proust, the Big Merino in Goulburn or Mahler 9. These thoughts were occasioned partly by the fact of my sitting next to an entertainment reporter, who shall remain nameless, who tweeted frequently during Love Never Dies. I don’t call that working; I call that very rude. Nevertheless I was struck by the conjunction of the large scale and the miniature. Or sort-of miniature. The myriad tiny communications that are the twitterverse have developed into a gigantic and unstoppable movement, and yes, I know I have come to an appreciation of this rather late. All of which is to segue to the news I am now on Twitter and will send missives on arty subjects when the mood strikes me. Tweets may be often. Or not. They will never be during a performance. I promise.