Guide to Surviving the Street Arts Festival: A Retrospective

Reflections on the 2026 Fremantle International Street Arts Festival by our Arts Editor Gayle O’Leary

The key to having a grand day out during any major public festival is preparation, as I told a fellow photographer at the recent Fremantle International Street Arts Festival, with a straight face under my rain jacket.

Know where you’re going, travel lightly, always bring a book, get there early, charge your camera, clear your memory card, hydrate, locate the clean toilets then hydrate some more, and anticipate a wait if you’re eating at the most visible haunts (those willing to venture slightly further away will usually be rewarded with equally tasty food and stellar grateful service).

I probably only did a fraction of these things and can’t complain about the resulting bad luck.

A group of friends met up on the Saturday, Day 2 of the Festival, outside the Fremantle Markets amidst the thronging crowds, beamed at the entertaining busker acts, then eventually came to an amicable agreement about the brunch destination. Off we popped to Elsa (formerly Elske, and I still don’t approve of the opportunistic name change) for a scrumptious feed and a long overdue catch up.

Karcocha pulled a considerable audience of laughing and smiling faces outside the National Hotel. I’d had some trepidation about seeing a so called clown act – isn’t this aimed more at children? Wrong! Our squeaky, exuberantly colourful harlequin has a delightfully scathing sense of humour that sports the versatility to appeal to both adults and youngsters. Cue invitations to boxing matches between seven year olds, standing on dazzling shoulders (he must have been roasting in that costume, how does he stop his face paint from melting in the sun?!), synchronised clapping attempts, and slow motion races. Very funny stuff.

A jaunt along the Cappuccino Strip spent puzzling at what to examine next, and querying aloud whether we would have a shot at making money by donning a costume and ecstatic facial expressions. A good question for next year.

All this puzzling is thirsty work. Off we went to hydrate and catch up some more. Many thanks to Gimlet Bar, my favourite gin bar on the planet, for remaining ever beautiful and accommodating. You are always treated to a cosy, moody atmosphere, a slice of Fremantle history, an amazing international array of gins – and other beverages for the non-gin-drinking-heathen I am somehow friends with – and brilliant hospitality. That predictably marked the end of our Saturday FISAF day out, as we had an Easter family dinner to attend, and our friends kindly offered a lift home, although exiting the FOMO car park and creeping through the traffic probably took almost as long as walking would have.

Venturing out towards the Cappuccino Strip at 2ish on Sunday, Day 3 of the Festival, with the effects of the Easter Dinner still lingering in my liver, I coasted around then decided I’d better head over with about 15 minutes to spare in order to see Vari perform outside the Sail Anchor. I couldn’t get even faintly near, and perching on one of the picnic benches offered minimal assistance. The glimpses I did catch looked mighty entertaining, nonetheless. Good show.

Now with a bit of time up my sleeve, I went in search of Osadia at the end of Collie Street, realised I needed to return to the Cappuccino Strip to find them, whoops, and enjoyed some street hairdressing antics for a bit to catchy dance music. The elaborately-clad duo collected quite the crowd on the strip while they conducted dramatic makeovers to volunteers. I rather liked the end results. Thinking I need a little respite and a good vantage point, I decided to tick Beerporium off the bucket list at last and climbed the stairs to enjoy a pale ale and potato gems on their balcony. Alas, all the best seats were naturally taken. The menu sans fries was also a let down, can’t say I’m mad about the gems. That’s someone with Irish heritage talking, too.

Having to scoff most of the gems after a twenty minute wait despite the relative lack of patrons, I scampered back down the stairs to try and catch Skull Squires. I found them surrounded and inspiring terror already.

Lesson learned. Fine. I later gratefully downed a sparkling water and lime at the Ball and Chair bar on Marine Terrace, rechecked the festival timetable, caught up on my Fremantle Shipping News reading, and waited. Then waited some more.

Hmmn. 45 minutes until the next act. Better get a good spot and avoid being caught out again. So I perched on the grass at Esplanade Park, right up close to the rope barrier but not so close that young children can’t enjoy the view unimpeded by the back of my head. With five minutes to spare, a mum and her son sit straight in front of me. Typical.

The wait and mild back pain was utterly worth it. Karla Kaartdijin. A show commissioned by the City of Fremantle, delivered by Karla and Zap Circus. Breathtaking. You felt the beat of the music in your chest and the heat of the flames. Flames that have benefited humanity but must be handled with care. Incredibly moving.

Jubilant from the spectacle and having quality snaps at last, I trot happily back to the Cappuccino Strip to sit outside the Sail and Anchor once more. A half hour gap should do it, surely. One supposes they could venture up to the balcony of the Sail and Anchor, but the atmosphere just isn’t the same unless you’re on the ground and apparently there’s a viewing fee.

So I sat in the crowd with my chunky backpack stashed under my knees a reasonably close distance from the stage. Views blocked largely once again by those taller than me, including the very same mum and son from earlier, and feeling squished like a sardine by latecomers who decided to squeeze in next to me and share a box of San Churros amongst themselves. Could’ve offered me one as consolation but elected not to. Hmph.

The Nightshow kicked off, an hour long series of nearly all the major acts showcasing their work in one spot. Spectacular! At last, I could see a bit more of handsome Vari, Cho Kairin, and Cate Great defying gravity. Eliciting belly-aching laughter at times, Karcocha returned and directed an entourage of participants to dance to Backstreet Boys’ “Bye Bye Bye” with him. BAM WOW Amazing Show!, Crazy Pony, and Kick Flip garnered applause and laughs as well with a few impressive stunts.

After it all wrapped up, I de-contorted myself from my Easter-Egg-scrunched-foil position on the ground and vowed to be an upstanding citizen next time. But it was worth it, naturally. What a night!

Rain accompanied the final day of the Festival, Monday Day 4, and there was absolutely no way I was missing out on the atmosphere. By atmosphere, I mean at last a gap in the crowds to easily see the acts this time thanks to the weather. Just like last year, maybe?

With half an hour to spare, I position myself next to the barrier facing the stage outside The National Hotel and check check check the camera, the program, my emails, and my posture. Have a nice chat with a stranger. Patiently await my partner and his promise of a takeaway mocha.

Kick Flip prepares to kick off, but warns us it’ll be a short show due to the weather. Blast.

We all loved it, either way. Oscar and Jacob. Teenage boy skateboarders preparing to storm the world with their documentary. We laughed, gasped at the athleticism and precision, and at a possibly injury-induced slip (or was it?), and cheered. It may have been brief, but quality over quantity. I only wish I could have returned to see the full show later but I had another act to see without compromise.

All the main acts of this year’s Festival were remarkable. But if I had to play favourites, then it’ll go to the two French acrobats willing to dunk themselves in the ocean on a cold rainy day just to amuse us.

Surcouf opens with two beaming gentlemen rowing gaily through Fremantle Fishing Boat Harbour to a tiny raft. They are preparing for a show, and need to set up and rehearse. It does not go to plan.

It can be easy to take a blurry picture when you’re shaking with laughter, which is why I was prepared to endure a damp derrière from sitting on the soaked timber floorboards (others brought a blanket, very smart!) and utilise the barrier as a stabiliser. Excellent. And luckily the rain didn’t catch us out despite an earlier deluge.

“That was awesome”, Terence and I heartily agree as we munched on our fish and chips at Twin Fins. Then home to a piping hot cup of tea and hot cross bun.

Will I go again next year? Definitely. But with an informed strategy this time.