“My father was born in London, he was a pacifist who refused to go to war. Even though he only had one eye, which prevented him from fighting, he was sent to jail for 12 months for his radical views.

This totally changed the direction of my parents’ lives.

They saw an ad in the newspaper for share farmers in Australia. It turned out to be nothing like it was advertised, it was almost slave labour in a tiny little cottage in Gippsland. Their 12 year old son contracted tetanus within two weeks of moving and died.

Not long after they adopted me. I was six months old and living in a mission in Melbourne.

They used to feed me all the time in the first three months (because someone was sent to check I was put in the right home and they wanted me to look healthy), so I ended up being this big, round, baby.

My mother was an artist, a painter and my father ended up working in industrial relations.

As a child, I would not stop moving. My mother would play classical music and I would dance around the big wooden table in the kitchen.

One day my mother asked, “Do you want to go somewhere where other people are dancing?” and off I went.

I was very fortunate to be placed in the arms of two people who were very open-minded and lovers of art. So at the age of five, I went off to the church hall, where I did everything, singing, tap, ballet. I was the only boy. I was always very, very different.

Chelsea, where I grew up at that time, was very rural. I was mercilessly bullied. I felt like an alien. I always had a sense of not belonging, a sense of not having roots.

I remember my parents came to my first recital (my mother made all my costumes and they were really good) I came out and sang and my parents nearly fell over! I had always been a quiet child; an observer and a witness.

As I got older I went on a massive spiritual search. I’d been brought up by parents who had no connection to religion or spirituality (although they did love nature) but they supported my spiritual curiosity and they’d drive me to a church service and drive me home again.

Up until very recently, at the age of 64, when something very simple clicked into place, I continued to be a seeker; reading, exploring. I did healing work and worked as a psychic – I’ve gone down all sorts of paths, but the most closely aligned of all faiths would be Buddhism, it’s very open, simple, compassionate and very down-to-earth.

I’ve been involved in creative works since childhood. I used to put on performances in the backyard for the neighbours.

When I was 14 years old I auditioned for the Australian Ballet School, which is where I now teach.

For me, it was the end of the bullying. Everyone at the school was strange and odd and boisterous and shy. The whole world made sense. I felt safe, I breathed differently.

When I was 17 I joined the Australian Ballet, at that time, I was the youngest in the company. I got to work with some amazing people.

Then the Stuttgart Ballet, a German company, came to Melbourne. Their approach to narrative dance was so deep and real and I knew I had to go there, this was in 1976.

It was an amazing company with works that were deeply human, with an emphasis on being true to character, which resonated with me.

I moved to Germany, which I found to be very regimented and tough, with lots of rules, yet now when I look back I see how progressive they were. This was 40 to 50 years ago and they were already talking about climate change.

I toured a lot of the world and spent almost four years with the company. It was a wonderful opportunity.

Then I went to the US, to the Washington Ballet, which was a smaller company, with only 18 dancers, compared to 70 at Stuttgart and the Australian Ballet.

That’s when I ruptured a disk in my lower back. I was on stage, lifting someone overhead (fortunately I was able to bring her to the ground, even though it felt like someone had kicked me in the back). They rushed me to the hospital in full stage make-up and they had to peel my tights off, before the surgery.

After that I went with a friend to the Moscow International Ballet Competition in Russia, it was 1981 and Russia and America were not friends.

Something in me didn’t want to compete, but I partnered with Amanda who won a gold medal. Even though I hadn’t entered I was given the award for best partner.

When we came back to America we were thrust into the publicity limelight, appearing on the Today Show and Good Morning America, we were even invited to the Whitehouse.

Six months later the Australian Ballet invited me back to be a Principal Dancer to play the role of Romeo, in Romeo and Juliet, at the age of 26.

When I first started at the Australian Ballet at 17 years old, I played the carnival king in Romeo and Juliet, and then at Stuttgart, I played Romeo in the same production.

Dancing on stage is an altered reality. It’s such an incredibly humbling honour.

After two years, my back problem came back and the neurosurgeons said I could no longer dance. I went to New York and studied acting at the Lee Strasberg Institute and went on to work as an actor in New York.

Two years down the track, a good friend said, “I’ve met someone who rehabilitates dancers.” So I met with her; she works with alignment in the body, weight placement and a different way of being in the body.

Three months later I was offered the principal contract for the San Fransisco Ballet at the age of 30. I went on to work with the Boston Ballet for two years before doing a lot of international freelance work, before retiring in 1991, at the age of 46.

Dancers go on an amazing trajectory; you start and grow and build your artistry, becoming stronger and more confident, and when both are at their highest points, the artistry continues to grow and the body starts to go downhill.

I went on to teach at one of New York’s biggest dance studios where I quickly developed a strong following. I was able to immediately step away from the ego of performance.

I met  Brad in 2005 while working as the Artistic Director of the West Australian Ballet. The company was bringing ‘La Boheme’ to Melbourne. We first met online and I invited Brad to the dress rehearsal.

Afterwards, we went for dinner and had the most fabulous conversation. He walked me back to my hotel, which I thought was lovely.

He was very interesting, down-to-earth, and interested in humanity, he ticked all the boxes. We were long distance for some time and then I moved to Melbourne.

We opened EDGE Galleries in Maldon in March last year, mid-Covid.

We’d had the spark of an idea for a gallery. We were living in Woodend at the time and looked in Kyneton and a few places in Maldon. Then we saw this. It was the first time Brad’s eyes lit up, like a kid in a candy store. It was a project for him.

We started with the gallery space and are working our way back. It feels as though we may as well be living outside. There’s no insulation, no ceiling in some places. It’s freezing.”

Amongst his many and varied accomplishments, Simon has also produced 50 original choreographed works throughout the US, Asia and Australia. His most recent work, for the Australian Ballet School, a 15-minute performance about refugees, entitled ‘Teeter’, will be performed at the Melbourne Art Centre in September.

Amongst his travels, Simon became passionate about photography and formally studied photography in Melbourne in recent years.

“I’ve never been someone who’s afraid to pivot. I dive head-first with a passionate obsession.”

This article appeared in the Tarrangower Times, 15 July 2022.