Created by Simeon Morris

A single thread on a dress makes not the garment, but every one of them together forms something marvellous.

That is Square Peg – a show made from some of its parts; staging, the spoken word, the physicality, and openness all come together to form something remarkably intimate and forthcoming. It brings much-needed freshness to the solo-work performance method of storytelling.

Afflicted with trauma through their childhood, Simeon Morris’ Square Peg takes deviations from the path audiences may expect starting with the words of his father that “women are better than men”. And rather than polluting Morris with a hatred of women, instead floods him with a love of them, a desire and envy almost, and leads to Morris searching for love in all the worst of places. But now, surrounded by memories, dresses and leather bags, Morris (armed with a salvaged sewing machine) is ready to find peace – and rather than inviting us on the journey, allows audiences to experience it in tandem with Morris for an authentic, gorgeously easy-going, and vulnerable piece of solo-performance theatre.

Every one of Morris’ garments is a piece of his life: experiences, loves and losses and trivialities. Most importantly – they’re his. They’re not created to sell and they’re only gifted with gritted teeth. Morris gorgeously traverses us through the nostalgia of their life, cycling back to the present moment as we cross oceans to discover broken hearts, wounded fathers, South Asian sex workers, German photographers, drugs and blackbirds.

Breaking up the performance with small recitation of Hardy’s The Darkling Thrush which Morris is imprinting on themselves with every performance, threading out the inevitability and necessity of hope throughout the show. Square Peg isn’t so much a hodgepodge of styles as it is a sewing box: you never quite know what you’ll pull out, but you know the ‘right’ thing is in there. Clow-work, music, poetry, birdsong, music, and carpentry all serve a purpose here in crafting the show and showcasing the necessity of art in all settings.

Perhaps one of the most magnificent things about Square Peg, and what makes it rightly a damn fine piece of work, is that it continually evolves with every performance and audience: the dress isn’t finished. It may never truly be finished, and that’s the significant beauty of Morris and this show. Morris’ Square Peg speaks to everyone at the Fringe about being an artist. And about not even being a good one. With over 3,000 shows at the festival, the real art can be found at home in baking bread, painting or sketching in your downtime, even nurturing a garden, or decking out your car: beautifully healing theatre.