
Laura Anne Harris, featuring objects by Merle Harley | Photo by Christopher Lewis (left) Jordan Mechano | Photo by Joanne Williams (right)
Presented by Convection Productions
“Have Fun Kids is not a eulogy, but an act of resistance against forgetting.”
This line from the show’s synopsis really stuck with me. It was, I felt, an intuitive starting point for my discussion with friend and theatre artist, Laura Anne Harris. Her new show, Have Fun Kids, is coming to the Toronto Fringe Festival as part of Next Stage this July. I asked her to tell me a little bit about Jordan Mechano, a fellow theatre artist and dear friend she lost to suicide back in 2020.
Trained as an actor, Jordan was also a playwright who devoted much of his later career, from 2013 until his passing, to live performance art—quirky, intimate, often one-on-one performances. Describing him as a “cheeky little bastard,” she fondly recalls a piece in 2017 he was asked to do by the Toronto Fringe:
“He basically sat with a participant while they were trying to solve a Rubik’s Cube and he would tell them about all the things in his life that he tried to quit, both big and small, and then, when the audience member didn’t solve the Rubik’s Cube (an affectionate giggle here) he would add their name to a list of quitters. And he called it Everybody Should Just Quit.”
Though inspired by his practice, as someone who commits to works for extended periods, she admits to feeling frustrated by his artistic temperament, specifically his tendency to just move on to new projects after one-off performances. Ultimately though, she recognized, in the down-to-earth approach and lack of artifice, his impulse to search, to engage in conversation and foster connection.
“It was a testament to his work as well as who he was as a person. He was an empath and he was very interested in community-building and seeing things from a different perspective.”
She remembers his deep connection to Fringe because of the opportunities for experimentation provided by the festival. With that relationship firmly lodged in their understanding of his artistry, Harris and her collaborators acknowledge that Have Fun Kids belongs at Toronto Fringe.
“This feels like a homecoming for us.”
Bringing her own experience of grief to the table, Harris shines a light on Jordan’s unpublished writings, with express permission from his estate, fixating on his unfinished final work. A collection of pages curated after his memorial, some 700 pages, serve as a metaphor for this project and of human legacy. Acknowledging “there’s no way you could incorporate all of who he was into a show,” the vast collection becomes more of a symbol than a blueprint.
In “building an army and community of people that, first and foremost, connect to the themes of the show and have an emotional attachment to it,” Harris sought creative partners who either had a direct connection to Jordan or, more broadly, experiences related to grief, loss and mental health. The process created space for them to bring their own personalities to the project.
“Jessie and Christopher felt like a natural jumping off point.”
Director Jessie Fraser and Experience Design Director Christopher Lewis were working with Jordan on the auto-biographical solo show he was developing when he died. Harris herself was planning to produce it for the 2020 Toronto Fringe.
There is a cosmic element of the show she calls the “event horizon,” which figures into an interactive slide-show electronically connected to prop elements. Describing this tech savvy component: “I can’t do these things. Chris is a genius.” And it sounds very intriguing—these complex and intricate inner workings under the hood of a fluid and immersive experience for the audience.
And those props, a set of fifteen objects designed by Merle Harley, are a prominent feature of the production. “They are so, so cute. She did a beautiful job of it.” For each show, selected audience members will choose four of these objects, each assigned to a story, to determine the specific narrative track each performance will take.
“So it’s always going to be new and different because, like Jordan, who never did the same thing more than once, we are also not repeating ourselves. This is paying homage to him, but it is also the non-linear journey of grief.” These small objects themselves honour him, Harris warmly explains: “Jordan loved little things.”
Sound Designer Alex Eddington, a frequent collaborator with Harris, is part of this bonded team which includes Accessibility Coordinator Mandy E. MacLean, Production Manager Allie Bell and Stage Manager Morgan Frey.
Those familiar with relaxed performances will already have some idea of what to expect from this sensory-conscious staging. Considering varied sensitivities, Harris and her designers will maintain a consistent brightness on stage and sound levels that never exceed a certain decibel point. Avoiding jarring cues, they have embedded this mindfulness into the production.
Content warnings related to the show’s themes of suicide and grief are accessible on the Fringe website and will be posted at the venue, but Harris is excited to be incorporating into the performance a form of content warning associated with her work in health care education. Working off the knowledge that anything can be triggering—from smells to stimuli as deceptively benign as the colour of a shirt—she intends to formally establish a pact with the audience.
“You never know what lived history someone is walking in with. You’ve consented to be here, but that consent can change at any time. I want you to know that you’re in control of your own life and you can opt out of anything you don’t want.”
As this performance is rooted in the trauma of a personal loss, this same care has gone into a device she’s built into the show to keep herself safe within the space. She’s implemented “a psychology, grounding method that helps me ground in the space. If you are having a panic attack or a lot of anxiety, you name colours and objects in the room.” A practical application, this device also has poetic purpose within the piece.
With a giddy sense of camaraderie, Harris points out that she’s one of several similarly themed Fringe entries. “There’s a lot of grief shows at the Fringe this year!” She’d like to shout out the following shows which she and fellow creators have dubbed Greifapalooza:
- Adam Bailey: My Three Deaths
- Things My Dad Kept
- My Pet Lizard, Liz: The Shakespearean Existential Crisis That Led to His Ultimate Demise
I will also be covering all three of those shows and am excited to experience Have Fun Kids, which promises to be a holistic tribute to an artist whose work I wish I’d caught while he was still here.

