The Atlanta Fringe Festival, 2026: A Journal of Sorts

The hardest part of the Atlanta Fringe Festival was the distance. My drive was long, and though podcasts are nice, the I-75 is mean. There was also the distance of time. 2025’s Fringe was a year ago, and though it gave me motivation and hope, the 365 days afterwards were not kind to me. It has been a long time since I felt like a real artist of any sort, much less a performer, so though I’m happy to see talented artists (some of whom I even know from college), I don’t feel like I’m one of them. 

The best part of the Atlanta Fringe Festival was everything else. For any unaware, the Fringe Festival tradition started after artists who were denied access to the Edinburgh Performing Arts Festival decided to do their shows just outside the festival. Writers were excited about the acts “on the fringes,”  and ever since then Fringe festivals have been a place for works that might get denied elsewhere. No show is too silly, too abstract, or too niche for a Fringe Festival. This year saw a wonderful variety of shows including plays, musicals, storytelling, and clown shows. Though the aforementioned drive and my tech-work obligations meant I only saw about ten shows of the many in the festival, I’m overjoyed to share my experiences.

Within the venue I worked (the Supermarket’s Black Box) there were seven shows, all of which provided a wonderful time. Two of our acts, The Reel Report with Jeffrey and Preethi and Nikki are Funny AF, leaned towards stand-up comedy. Jeffrey’s show was her own version of a Late-night program, with audience engagement, guest comedians, and news segments which balanced the serious issues with comedy wonderfully. Her energy was fantastic, and if any television network picked her up I’d be sure to tune in. Preethi and Nikki did a more standard stand-up show, delivering wonderful jokes about aging, dating, grief, Bollywood aunties, and many more topics. Each night they had a new guest, and each time I was blown away. Their title did not lie, Preethi and Nikki truly are funny af.

We also had Still, Life, a play about community theatre and the sorts of people you find in it. The play was wonderful, and the performers were lovely to work with. Also lovely was Lady Penelope in Quarantine, a one-woman play following Lady Penelope, who voluntarily continued quarantine as a form of self-isolation so she could enjoy her life of dressing like a Victorian and writing sonnets. Penny Peyser was fantastic to work with, and her show was remarkably witty, heartfelt, and beyond charming. Also included was Road Trip (there were actually two different “Road Trip”s at the Fringe, funnily enough), a remarkable improv group. Their premise was delightful- have a special guest tell a story, take bits of that for their improv and go wild. The two nights I worked had the group doing improv with puppets and doing musical improv, both of which were an incredible time. 

Lastly were two storytelling shows, which are often my favorite Fringe shows. Bait and Switch  followed Anna Conathan’s lengthy journey from a Hollywood actor and screenwriter to a Maine lobster enthusiast. The show was a mix of light-hearted and serious- in part an infodump about the glorious Homerus Americanus (the American lobster), and in another a drama about the world her lobster obsession was an escape from. Anna anchors the show wonderfully, playing her part as a passionate lecturer wonderfully. Rebecca Wilson’s ill was a personal standout. Her story is very simple: after returning to Atlanta to take care of her sick mother, she fell into alcoholism, and after a long journey, found peace. Now, she’s endeavoring to share the people she met and the experiences she had. Wilson (to the best of my knowledge) is primarily from the stand-up comedy world, so much of her stories have a stand-up comedy function- humorous setups leading to a few big punch-line moments. In comedy the show succeeds greatly- it was a pleasure seeing jokes get added or refined as the festival went on- but the vulnerable insights Wilson gave affected me like little else has. When I say her story results in her having “found peace,” I am barely exaggerating if at all. Though her pain is captivating, what gives the show its power is the fact that she genuinely does seem peaceful. There’s still pain and anger, but despite it all she made it through. That’s powerful, aspirational, and it routinely brought me to tears.

I also made a stronger commitment to seeing shows outside of my venue this year. This was hampered by me ending up much more tired than expected, but what I did see I loved. There was Don Toberman: Ping-Pong Champ, a show featuring Chase Brantley as the titular character who plays an epic ping-pong match against the audience. This pantomime show is an incredible sports pastiche, fit with sponsors, commentators, incredible athletic feats, and a half-time show with buttcheeks on full display. This show has traveled around and continues to do so, so if you do get the chance to see it, take it. There was also: Lt. Love Dr’s Boot Camp for Single People Like You, a funny, conceptual show addressing the loneliness epidemic from Chloe Matonis, Guilty Pleasure: A Cumming Out Story, a queer half-stand-up half-storytelling show about learning to love yourself physically and emotionally from Amanda Melhuish, MAGA Pop Girly! A Musical Satire which delivers fantastically on its absurd presence, having a joke density typically reserved for Mel Brooks movies by Gabbie Watts, and almost certainly more wonderful shows I’m forgetting. 

The Fringe Festival is an amazing time. The shows are amazing, but the people are better. I did not bring up how kind and lovely all the performers were because I didn’t have something to say about their work, I brought it up because for the first time in years I felt seen. In many parts of my life I feel like an automaton. I’m not a person with feelings who has passions or pains, I am an alien doing her best at pretending she’s human. After the last night of shows, many of the performers and staff went to an ending party/awards ceremony. There, I received maybe the best complement I have ever received. A total stranger told me, “hey, I saw some of the shows you worked, and your passion really showed.”

My journey with art has been a constant cycle of fate pushing me away from performance, and then me rediscovering why I always come back. It’s where I belong. I need the arts like a flower needs rain. I want to work in the arts. I want to write for this blog more. I want to stream more. I want to feel as alive as I did whenever I stepped out of my car and walked into the Supermarket.  But much like the shows at the Fringe Festival, life is often messy and chaotic. 

I suffer from executive dysfunction. What that means is that I do not have full control over my thoughts and actions. I can want to do anything as much as my heart can want, but if something else in me decides that instead I’m going to lay in bed and feel terrible I’m going to lay in bed and feel terrible. I wanted this article to be a great, happy statement about how all these incredible artists inspired me to really push myself, get my work out there and fight, fight, fight, for the life I deserve. I still plan on doing that. But feeling good about my work, feeling connected to people is so hard when there’s such a distance. 

The Fringe Festival only ended about two weeks ago, but it feels like a far-off memory. But as I wrote that sentence, some laughter broke through my malaise. Two weeks over the course of a career is nothing! Besides, I haven’t just been despairing, I went to an open mic and performed stand-up comedy for the first time! I still feel that distance; the drive to Atlanta sucks, being unable to spend a lot of time with performers because of that drive sucks, executive dysfunction really sucks, but chasing my purpose adds more to my life than any of those can take away. Maybe it’s time I let all that beautiful love I feel for this work breach that distance and return to me.