At the beginning of any journey, yours or your troupe’s, you cannot do it alone. Theatre is not a solo swim. It is an ocean, and most of us dive in thinking we’ll paddle politely in the shallow end. Instead, we meet a storm. Passion becomes a typhoon. Energy crashes like waves against your body. The hunger for stage lights feels tidal.
To survive that, you need people. Friends. Your theatre family.
On my own path, I chased knowledge like it was oxygen. I followed directors. I asked questions. I annoyed mentors. I clawed my way toward the stage. And yes, sometimes that meant less clawing and more sitting in a pub, sketching impossible dreams on damp napkins. But even that was community. Even that was fuel.
Then you find your clique.
A clique is a beautiful and dangerous thing. It can be a fortress of loyalty, a band of artists who catch one another mid-fall. But only if it is built on honesty and communication. Otherwise, it becomes a locked room.
What happens when your clique wants different futures? When one dreams of stretching, experimenting, building new muscles, while another wants to refine the passions already burning inside them?
Unity is not sameness. Unity is support.
In small troupes, I often see warmth. A seat pulled out. A script shared. An openness to the wandering artist who arrives hopeful and nervous. But as groups grow, cracks can widen. I have watched companies split like fault lines under pressure. Members drift to other stages. Alliances shift. Applause becomes territorial.
The hardest fracture I observed came from the top. Founders who wanted different things and did not say so clearly. One longed to expand, to learn, to deepen their understanding of theatre’s power. The other wanted to create within the passions already alive in him. Neither wish was wrong. Both could have thrived. But expectations replaced conversation. Assumptions replaced clarity.
They could have allowed each other freedom. Individual projects. Separate explorations. Then come together when aligned, when collaboration truly served them both. Instead, silence did the splitting. The group changed forever.
So listen.
Support ideas that are not your own. Stay open to new people. Teach them. Share what you know. Give them the creative fire and the tools to wield it.
Create the monster of change.
Then do not cage it.
Feed it.
Oh, and always wear sunscreen!
Xavier Jeanne
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