Sometimes, the greatest art emerges from the worst pain. Four days ago, at Brompton, I saw a brave one-woman show built around bereavement.

There must be something in the water in the inner west of Adelaide, because my latest Fringe adventure at the Woodville Town Hall, All These Pretty Things, is an equally brave and excoriating one woman show that dives into that tried and true well of the death of a long-term marriage.

Tracey Yarad: All These Pretty Things. Photo supplied

In the tradition of Millie Jackson’s classic album Caught Up, creator and performer Tracey Yarad in company with co-writer and director Tessa Souter fashions a cycle of first love, commitment, marriage, divorce, despair and resurrection laced with strong original songs and singing worthy of a performer who has carved a niche for herself in the Big Apple.

It all begins in Sydney where a teetotalling, celibate and mediating Yarad, recovering from her failed first marriage, meets a fellow divorcee. It’s noteworthy that Yarad never utters the bastard’s name, but by the end of the show, we hate him with a passion, having judged him by his deeds.