IN THIS SCENE

In this scene, we step into the world of k—raised in the heart of the performing arts, where backstage was home and the stage felt like destiny. With a father working as a producer and stage manager, she grew up surrounded by the magic of live performance, attending every event, show, and concert he brought to life. From a young age, she wasn’t just an audience member—she was the daughter of the boss, witnessing the artistry and hard work behind every curtain call. Now, she steps into her own spotlight, ready to share the stories that shaped her.

k’s life story

A short introduction to your blog author…

As I’ve mentioned, I’ve lived most of my life surrounded by the performing arts. Growing up, I heard countless stories from my dad about his experiences working with incredible people like Mick Jagger, Metallica, Bon Jovi, and many other brilliant and talented individuals.

My love for the arts runs deep. Over the years, I’ve jumped from visual arts to culinary arts to performing arts. Out of all of them, culinary and performing arts are my top passions. I’ve loved cooking since I was a little girl. I was always active, and my parents signed me up for all kinds of lessons—sports, cooking, art classes, and more—to help me explore and find what I truly loved.

Until the 9th grade, I was completely set on pursuing culinary arts as a career. But suddenly, I changed direction and became interested in something completely different: marine biology. Yes, I know—marine biology? From the arts? But science was something I also enjoyed learning. When I talked to my parents about it, they were supportive.

However, my dad had other ideas. He told me about a Performing Arts Production Scholarship at the University of Melbourne that was soon available. He suggested I apply, then return to Indonesia to work in his company, pursue my master’s, and eventually take over his business and build my life from there.

At first, I was unsure. I didn’t know if this was what I wanted to do with my life. But my mom gave me a perspective that struck a chord. She said the only reason I was hesitant was because I felt “left out”—that I had always been different from my peers. While others may not have understood it, I genuinely enjoyed musicals, art exhibitions, dance performances, and museums—not just as entertainment but as something to admire and be inspired by.

I intend to journey to Australia in 2027 to study and become a performing arts producer. As an aspiring producer, I dream of creating plays about life, horror musicals, dance shows, and even films that capture things beyond one's imagination. I know it won’t be easy—but I’m ready to face whatever challenges come with the creative process.

My dad told me, “After college you have to come back to Indonesia. This place needs brilliant people.” And he’s not wrong.

 But sometimes I wonder—what exactly will I do as a producer? Will I change the world? Will I change the way we see each other through movement and dialogue?
That’s not a bad idea.

Take the musical Polarisasi, for example. I watched it last year with my cousin and really admired the concept. It tackled current issues in the government and somehow balanced both the good and the bad. It gave the audience a peek behind the curtain of politics—what really goes on backstage.
But I’ll save the rest of that thought for another blog post.

I’ve always seen art as a way to bring people together. It opens up a space—a space for connection, for conversation, for feeling something real. But more than that, I want my work to carry the spirit of sharing—not just within Indonesia, but reaching the ends of the globe. I want to tell stories that reflect the beauty of what is being spoken, and let people everywhere experience it—feel it—in a way that is able to immerse the audience in a show that feels surreal.

I want productions that celebrate culture, but I also want productions that entertain. I believe storytelling can be both insightful and enjoyable—something that teaches a moral, shares a truth, or even introduces a small but powerful fact. 

One example that left a mark on me was 9sembilu, an Indonesian musical I saw not long ago. It told the story of farmers in Indonesia, shedding light on their struggles and the reality they face. It was eye-opening. It wasn’t just a show—it was a message. And that’s what I want to do. I want to create pieces that reach the hearts of people, that stay with them long after the curtains close.

Reaching audiences from all walks of life. To bring them into moments that are honest and heartfelt—whether it’s through a musical, a play, or a dance performance. Stories about love, peace, and community. Stories that bring joy and laughter in the crowd, or tears and cries in their seats.But I also want my work to be personal. I want to create shows that are dedicated to the people I love—projects where every line, every step, every beat means something. I want that level of intention. That quiet attention to detail that every great producer pours into their masterpiece.

Everything I do, I dedicate to my family, to my loved ones. There are small meanings tucked into everything I write, everything I create. It’s something I carry with me and something I plan to keep carrying into every production I build in the future.

The point is: musicals aren’t just singing, dancing, acting, or chanting. They carry something deeper. They hold the heart of the story the creator wants to share.

So I hope you’ll stay with me, through this blog—however long it takes—while I share the musicals and performances that, in my opinion, carry beautiful messages worth passing on.

And with that, the curtains fall. Until the next act–k’s curtain call.

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