Shameless Plug is a new series where we turn things over to creatives. In exchange for plugging their project, they have to spill their guilty pleasure, biggest inspiration, personal motto and a few other secrets. Today, an arts therapist and artist opens up about what it's like to be a papier-mâché cake and why she always goes too far.

Born and raised in Grey Lynn, Tāmaki Makaurau, Virginia Frankovich is a multidisciplinary artist and creative arts therapist of Irish, Samoan, and Croatian descent. She studied Psychology and Drama at the University of Auckland, Clowning and Physical Theatre at L’École Philippe Gaulier and the John Bolton Theatre School and received her Masters in creative arts therapy from Whitecliffe.  

Whether she’s remembered for throwing food around a community hall, creating an immersive theatre show in a moving car, or directing large casts to beautifully challenge societal constructs around gender and sexuality, Frankovich has consistently instigated social action through her creative practice. After becoming a mother of two, Virginia returned to academia to explore how creativity can move beyond stages or galleries and into communities, not just to provoke but to transform. She collaborates with a wide range of communities including those who identify as neurodivergent, Disabled and/or with lived experience of mental health challenges, using creativity as a vehicle for self-expression, increased wellbeing and connection. 

Here is Virginia’s Shameless Plug

My favourite local artists (that I don’t know) are Lissy and Rudi Robinson-Cole. I recently encountered Wharenui Harikoa at the Civic. Their vibrant crochet work conjured a sacred, collective experience that was extraordinary to experience. Their ability to manifest intergenerational healing and joy through the power of the arts is inspiring.

My guilty pleasure is watching other audience members' reactions and expressions during a live performance. This might be the director in me, but regardless of whether it’s a show I’ve been a part of or not, I’m always drawn to the responses from audience members. The ‘live-ness’ of theatre has always been what makes the medium so magical – the audience's reactions are explicitly present and actively feeding into the energy of the performance. I see the affect of an audience as part of a reciprocal dialogue between the performers and the context in which it’s staged and so I am always conscious of my peripheries and the ways in which those around me are affected and contributing to the performance.

During Medusa, a show I co-created with Nisha Madhan and Julia Croft, the three of us spent the first 10-15 minutes of the show sitting on the stage in silence, watching the audience members and responding to their responses, much to some – or many – people's annoyance.

The most fun I’ve ever had on a project was all the shows I made in my 20s when I was too young and carefree to question “is this is a good idea” or “am I allowed to do this?”.

Case in point: Car – a show I made inside two moving cars, driving six audience members around Auckland while actors performed in random carparks and transient locations. I got into trouble with so many parking companies, had constant nightmares of car crashes and going to jail. It was wild, chaotic times, and also the best of times.

My personal motto is: “Go too far”. I remember first hearing this from John Bolton when he was teaching me the art of Bouffon (a more satirical and grotesque version of clowning) and I know Forced Entertainment are strong believers in this too. When I am creating I am always aiming for the “too far” territory – it’s where discovery happens, boundaries are tested and where things become palpable, dangerous and alive. You might stumble or soar – but I’d rather learn that way than stick to a tepid middle-ground.

My hottest career hack is process over product – always. I remember being in the pits of despair during a wayward theatre project when someone said to me, “Remember – you’re not saving lives.” This snapped me out of a naval-gazing spiral where the finished show was all that mattered, and reminded me of the importance of teu le vā – nurturing and tending to relationships. I strongly believe that when a creative process is approached with respect and reciprocity, that this will exude from the finished work (if any work can ever truly be “finished” – but that’s another tangent!).

The moment I knew I wanted to be an artist was when Madeleine Sami came to perform her one-woman show No. 2 by Toa Fraser in an old lecture hall at the University of Auckland. It was the first time I had seen someone completely transform into different, authentic and specific characters – no costumes, lights, design or any other frills. I was gobsmacked that this one person could make me feel so deeply. I laughed. I cried. Something activated in me after that performance and I knew then that I wanted to make things that could affect and move people. Thanks Madeleine!

My biggest inspirations are my kids. I am forever in awe of their boundless curiosity and imagination. Since becoming a mother, they’ve always been interwoven into my work – whether they’re interacting with my mahi toi, collaborating, inspiring or even destroying and recreating it – it’s impossible to separate them from my creative process. 

When my youngest child was a baby I noticed a lot of talk about stay at home mums doing ‘nothing all day’. Creating a spin-off of The Great British Bake Off on Instagram called The Great Bake Off Take Off, I challenged myself to complete the weekly Bake Off tasks from home with baby pinned to me in a frontpack or feeding off me, normalising the highs and lows of parenting in that vulnerable time of life. I am lucky to say that motherhood has not been a barrier to my creativity; if anything, my children constantly inspire me to stay curious and to create with that same instinctive and intrinsic wonder.

An artwork I wish I had made is The Artist is Present by Marina Abramović. Presence has always been an integral part of my work – especially in clowning – as the clown’s ability to respond to the audience hinges on active presence. It's been fascinating discovering how this presence translates into my creative arts therapy practice, where presence remains central to accompanying clients and communities towards self-expression through creativity.

My most embarrassing career moment was in 2006, when I was part of a Red Leap Theatre acting troupe performing at Trash to Fashion at the Trusts Stadium – a huge event with about 9,000 people in the audience. It was a pretty large-scale performance, with actors driving real tractors across the stage, and I was cast as a “giant cake” wearing a massive chicken-wire and papier-mâché ensemble. I couldn’t see a thing inside my costume, and as I was prancing around the stage during the performance – I fell right off it.

My shameless plug is that registrations are open for my Creative Wellbeing Studios beginning on the 3rd of November – 4th of December. If you are an adult in Auckland, curious about immersing yourself in playful workshops that explore creativity and wellbeing, cultivating connection and community through weekly sessions (either Monday afternoons or Thursday mornings in Grey Lynn) then register your interest here. The cost is minimal thanks to support of Creative Communities and Ockham Collective.