Chapter 218: Traces of Rebecca Youseffi in Transmission at Jacksons Lane

 

How does Rebecca Youseffi define herself? "Just a painter" in one interview. An artist who took up aerial in her 20s as a hobby, and then found herself drawn in (sounds familiar), seeing its potential to bring her circus practice into her art. Now, after five years of research and a Masters, her piece "Traces" is the result. I was intrigued. I was short on time. It's a 12 minute performance, I was told. Sold. I used the journey up to Jacksons Lane on the Northern Line to meditate. There is a new app Balance, giving a year's free trial, and I find the only way right now to increase time is to suspend it. One feature I like, a "single", is an immersive wave experience. Listening to the sea, as each wave draws in the phone vibrates gently in your hand, it's very clever. It transports me to another space, the Salt Caves, in Earlsfield, where I can sit in a deckchair, listen to the waves and breath in, if not sea air, ionised particles at any rate. In short, I miss the sea. Like a grounded selkie, my second skin must be hidden away somewhere, I dare not look for it...

Back to reality. I arrived at Jacksons Lane to find the bar shut, so grabbed a coffee from across the road. I enjoy a coffee before watching a performance. It heightens the senses.

This time, no presence on the stage. It was quite literally a black canvas. We waited. A pregnant pause. Timing is everything. Silph or cypher, in black off-setting flame coloured hair. The flame colour of Rebecca's hair reminded me of my niece Fly Davis, (a theatre set designer, who conjured up Ocean at the End of the Lane), and the texture of the hair, thick waves, reminded me of my Neil Gaiman-loving daughter Izzy, a creative free spirit whose imagination is constantly tumbling out into her writing. 

There was no music or speaking, but every sweep of movement and flow punctuated by breath, and the muffled thud of the rope thwacking the floor. Very zen. I was mesmerised. I was fascinated by Rebecca's climbs, the placement of toes curling round the rope, the grace and dexterity, but also the movement, on the descent I believe, where she spun through her hands to face out, back arched, like one of Neptune's wooden angels at the bow of the boat. Earlier that week I had just waved off Dutch friends from Tower Bridge, and as they were waiting at the lock, readying to set sail for Holland, taking a picture of Astrid in a similar position against the lines. So bear in mind I am reading and projecting my own experience onto a work of essentially abstract art, a study in neutrality which I believe, hope, invites such engagement.

As sand tipped onto the floor, Rebecca, inverted, used her hair to create brush-strokes across, tracing semi-circles and waves of light and shadow. Again, there was something about the combination of textual sound and movement that I found gently meditative. I have been thinking a lot recently about the link between repetitive physical movement and the creative process reading Haruki Murakami's "What I talk about when I talk about running". So maybe that is why, at the end, when Rebecca brings on a broom to silently sweep the sand, she reminds me of a caretaker of Japanese gardens where the gravel and stone are raked over and over, into patterns, Karesansui gardens, they are called, which literally translates to "dry landscape", where fertile imagination blossoms, I reflect. Only here the sand is not just swept, but swept away. Gone. Yet, the ephemeral lingers. As the sand was swept away, the medium of film came into play, with a projection of art on a backdrop, making the experience all the more immersive. It was as if the audience was weaving through different moments of movement in a promenade, each brush stroke of sand on the floor mirrored by the strokes of light and shadow on the screen.

I also thought of Jair Ramirez' Sugarman (click here) using sand in an altogether different way, as an autobiographical element to express his relationship with and release from cocaine when growing up in Colombia. Jair, who taught me aerial, from whom I bought the teal green silks that came sailing round the world. A softer sail. I also like the edgy, uncompromising burn of the rope that worked far better here.

There was a Q&A afterwards with Ade Berry, as Artistic Director, where Rebecca talked about her training at the National Centre for Circus Artists and the creative space that had given her as a residency. She also mentioned performing in a medieval church for an Arts Festival. I would have loved to see this in that space. What and which artists inspired you? Bright colours, and Monet. And another name that I didn't catch. My thoughts went straight to "The Great Wave off Kanagawa" by Hokusai. An image at that is everywhere, maybe (like circus!), I still ordered the design for my new iPhone cover that just arrived in the post today. Completely forgot what had prompted me to do that (other than my old transparent case was falling apart) until writing this post and the penny dropped...

What did you used to paint? Asked one child. Circus performers! Came the response. I thought of my next-door neighbour Jane, who travelled with the circus in South Africa and set herself up as the resident artist at what was then Circus Space (now NCCA) some decades ago. I've seen a number of her sketches from those days, beautiful. And I think of @curtis.tappenden, who I follow on Instagram. Often to be found painting performers from Zippos, which in a curious twist of fate has just materialised on Wandsworth Common, where I live. 

In a world where the boundaries between art forms are continually blurring, Rebecca's performance was a testament to the infinite possibilities that lie in the intersection of different creative mediums. It made me reflect on the various artists I have encountered, each with their unique approach to blending tradition with innovation. It's a reminder that art is a language that transcends boundaries, whether they are geographical, as with my neighbor Jane or Curtis, or between different mediums, as with Rebecca. As I look forward to the opening night at Zippos on Wandsworth Common tonight (Wednesday, 30th August), I am reminded that the world of art is vast and varied, from the sublime to the traditional, and I am grateful to be a part of it, even if I am just a spectator.

Check out the interview with Rebecca Youseffi here: Interview at the Coastal Currents Arts Festival

Photo credits: Jacksons Lane

Chapter 217: Rosa-Maria Autio in Transmission, Jacksons Lane

 "Anyone else, with any other explanation, and it would be another story," Sam said later, "but for you Lucy, I get it, circus is your crack."

When my phone vibrated against my leg, it was Sam wondering where I was; we had planned to meet for a walk just a few days ago. As the penny dropped, so did my stomach. At that very moment, I was instead seated in Jacksons Lane, beside the theatre's artistic director, Ade Berry, engrossed in watching Rosa-Maria Autio, the Finnish foot juggler, showcase her research and development for the longstanding "Transmission". This series is an inspired initiative of Ade's to give space to artists for creative exploration out of season. Transmission was how I'd met Ade, nearly a decade ago. He liked a piece I'd written on a cabaret by Aircraft Circus ((From Circus Space to Dream Space) and invited me to come up and see behind the scenes. Then I was hooked. Since then I've had many adventures, the majority of circus ones charted here, then sailing over 20,000 nautical miles France to Australia over two years with my husband and three children on our 40ft cat La Cigale (www.sailinglacigale.com/), and bringing all those worlds into play now in my third year as a French and Spanish teacher in a large South London Academy. Basically, I'm still juggling. And dropping the odd ball, as ever. 

The last time I was at Jacksons Lane, newly returned to the UK, the place was a building site and I was wearing a hard hat. It was fantastic now to see how it had all come together. The discovery of stained glass windows, now features, the open view of a hidden turret, the variety of rigging points, sound-proofed studios, and not to mention the glossy bar. Having legged it from school (yes, it's the holidays, but...), I'd ordered a double-espresso. Then Ade arrived and looked at me. "Lucy, it's Friday afternoon. It's summer." Ordering a large glass of wine as a chaser. was the only possible response, along with cheers! in Finnish. It felt so ruddy civilised. Such a great space, so much to catch up on. The last time I'd been in the auditorium it was putting on a show with Sean Kempton and Michaela O'Connor. I miss those clowns in London. Thanks to the recommendation of kettle-bell juggling performer Hamish Tjeong we had a Finnish juggler in our show one year too, Onni Toivonen (see blog post Chapter 153, click here ) who "clubbed to death" (see video here) and brought the house down. 

Back to the present. We take our seats. The audience seems to be primarily local residents and families. I say that because I imagine so many are up at the Edinburgh Fringe and the only other person I recognize from the world of circus is digital artist Mark Morreau.

Rosa-Maria is already on the stage, shepherding the audience into the best seats for the best views. Gently commanding. At ease, connecting with her public. A brave move, I thought, liking her already for that. I hate dealing in stereotypes but... average height, long blond hair, blue eyes, with an openness in her expression, a directness and  kookiness (evident in her choice of circus art if nothing else), Rosa-Maria is so, well, reassuringly Finnish.

Having seen her in NoFit State's show Lexicon, I knew Rosa-Maria was supremely skillful, but it's the type of juggling one step removed from engaging with the audience. The performer is flat on their back tossing objects with their feet, after all, how do you build a rapport from there? From Rosa-Maria's Instragram feed @autio.rosa, one to follow!, I had an inkling of the answer: clowning. 

And that, indeed, was the heart of it. In an outfit ressembling Wonder Woman with a bustle, Rosa-Maria introduced us to her partner, Rizzo, an 8.5 kilo cylinder that soon wore the shirt, if not the pants, of an actual partner. Introduced by the Turtles signature tune (the intro chords playing on a loop like as we took our seats) "Imagine me and you, I do..." Rizzo really came to life. Rosa-Maria and Rizzo, sharing a glass of wine (kippis!) and other moments of togetherness served to highlight the fundamentally solitary nature of working as a solo performer. It's a work in progress, which is why I don't want to say too much about a scratch that is evolving. But I really enjoyed the comedy, the great choices in music, the atmospheric lighting, the gentle surprises and deft footwork. The audience clearly enjoyed it immensely. Brava!

I appreciate being able to swap thoughts with Mark afterwards about the show and hear his insights, with all his experience, as we fill out our feedback sheets and share. And being able to thank Rosa-Maria and her team when they stop by the table. For me, circus is a world where the whimsical meets the disciplined, where the seemingly impossible is made to look effortless. It’s a place where you can find solace in the company of a foot-juggling cylinder named Rizzo or the gentle glow of memories in a refurbished theatre. In this space, both artists and audience members come together to celebrate the shared joy of performance and creativity. The "Transmission" series, among other shows I've witnessed, reminds me that circus is not just about feats of skill, but about the stories that can be told through movement, expression, and the unexpected partnerships forged on stage. As the lights dimmed and the audience began to disperse, I found myself grateful for the journey – not just the one Rosa-Maria took us on that afternoon, but the personal journey of discovery, passion, and the continuous juggle that is life. To all the performers, creators, and supporters of this art form: thank you for sharing your world with us. Until the next adventure, keep juggling and let your passions guide your path. And Sam, thanks for always getting it – and for being you. And my circus talisman. 

Read more in this Jacksons Lane interview here:  In conversation with Rosa-Maria Autio

For more on What's On with Transmission at Jacksons Lane see: https://www.jacksonslane.org.uk/events/transmission/

Photo credit: Jacksons Lane
https://www.jacksonslane.org.uk/blog/transmission-in-conversation-with-rosa-maria-autio/

Chapter 216: A Circus Valentine

"Not a red rose or a satin heart. 

I give you an onion. 

It is a moon wrapped in brown paper. 

It promises light

like the careful undressing of love. 

Here. 

It will blind you with tears

like a lover. 

It will make your reflection a wobbling photo of grief.

I am trying to be truthful. 

Not a cute card or a kissogram.

I give you an onion. 

Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips,

possessive and faithful

as we are, 

for as long as we are. 

Take it. 

Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding ring, 

if you like. 

Lethal. 

Its scent will cling to your fingers, 

cling to your knife. 

Valentine,   by  Carol Ann Duffy

Chapter 215: VOILA! EUROPE - Juggling - Robin Boon Dale

Photo Credits: Be Festival

"This is a historic occasion. We haven't seen jugglers at the Cockpit Theatre for 17 years!" declared Ringmaster Dave, Artistic Director of The Cockpit theatre, in Marylebone, in a tone that had a twinkle of a challenge to the opening act as much as a welcome. It was the first circus scratch night Circus in the Pound (see blogpost Chapter 163 - click here), so named as the entry fee is only a quid into the traffic cone at the entrance. The act being introduced was a work in progress between Gandini Juggling's José Triguero and Chris Patfield, and juggling is now back centre stsge at The Cockpit  with artist Robin Boon Dale, this time as part of VOILA! EUROPE 2017, the non-Brexit fearing theatre festival that busts the barriers of language, and showcases plays from around Europe and the UK to the multi-national audiences of London: see www.voilaeuropefestival.com - click here. As a Brit who has just sailed under a Swiss flag down from France, via Spain and Portugal, and is currently moored in Las Palmas on a pontoon with Swedish, Danish, Dutch and German families, I am very much there in spirit with a festival that brings together such a Euro-Vision.

The festival is the brainchild of Sharlit Deyzac, who has been touring the acclaimed Boys Club with Leonor Lemee as part of Two Tongue Theatre (see blogpost - click here), that came to Jacksons Lane Postcards Festival this summer. VOILA! EUROPE has a cracking line up of provocative, hilarious, life-enhancing, boundary challenging shows running until Saturday 18 November. And this year the programme has a touch of circus thanks to the presence of Robin Boon Dale and his show What Does Stuff Do? 

Circomedia graduate Robin was one of a trio of artists in the excellent bar flair act Shakedown that I heard about earlier this year thanks to Kate Hartoch, organiser with Lina Frank of Circus City, Bristol's Biennial Circus Festival that took place to great acclaim this October (check out the photogallery for starters: www.bristolcircuscity.com/gallery and www.circusdiaries.com for reportage). Robin told me his show is the extension of an ongoing research project entitled "Is Juggling Liquid?" which explores ideas about creative notation and object oriented philosophy through circus skills and I'm intrigued by the description of this new show which has already won the ACT festival prize this summer and just returned from tour in Spain as part of the "Best of BE Festival":

In his charmingly rhetorical debut show, Robin Dale utilises innovative juggling, physical comedy, and almost-philosophy to guide you through his mind and body of research.

What Does Stuff Do? is a lecture style performance in which Robin strives to understand the ever-unfolding relationships between people and stuff, and to help fill in the space between art and science.

Featuring an assortment of unexpected props and a motivational speech delivered by a man in swimming trunks. Please, bracket for the next 30 minutes any scepticism about the value of the totally obvious.

What Does Stuff Do? is on Thursday, 16 November 2017 8.30pm. 

Tickets here: http://thecockpit.org.uk/show/what_does_stuff_do

Find @RobinBoonDale on Twitter, Instagram and Facebook Page. 

VOILA! EUROPE festival runs until Saturday, 18 November at several venues: The Cockpit, Etcetera and Applecart Arts. Check out the shows www.voilaeuropefestival.com/work

Chapter 214: Postcard from La Rochelle

 Seul, on va plus vite. Ensemble, on va plus loin.

On my own, I go faster. Together, we go further.

(motto of Compagnie XY - see post, click here)

My stomach lurches each time we walk along the sea wall.  We are in France, in La Rochelle, and the French are pretty laissez-faire when it comes to health and safety. It is clearly a well-trodden walkway, yet there is no sign of a barrier, a "garde-fou" or "protecting-the-idiot" (moi!). The wall is a good couple of feet across, the drop either side barely a few feet, threatening at most a twisted ankle, yet despite my love of tightwire, my palms sweat each time as I follow my children, who are skipping along without a care in the world. One day my youngest slipped her hand through mine. "Mum, why did you decide we should go sailing round the world when you love circus? It must be hard to like two things at the same time." 

For nearly a month now we have been living in La Rochelle and working on the boat. It is a very pretty old port, one that I can still hardly believe exists after reading about it for years in the Tricolore textbooks at school. I have fallen for the towers at the entrance to the old harbour, the cobbled streets in the pedestrian centre, the houses set behind walls, doors sometimes opening onto an inner courtyard to offer a stealthy glimpse of a grande manor or hidden secrets. Now into October the wave of tourists is subsiding, but the tide of bicycles is pretty constant, and we zip around on our Bromptons too, our helmets a clear indication that we are visitors. We have stayed in three different Airbnbs here now, finally moving onto our boat this week, a 40ft catamaran called La Cigale. She is named after the Cicada in the old La Fontaine/Aesop's Fable story, singing and dancing her way through summer while her friend Ant toils makes yproverbial hay while the sun shines in readyness for the winter months. For us the music in the name conjures up continental summer evenings, and, of course, she will always be our "Sea Gal".  Ironically though, with all the preparations in tow, I feel more formicide than singing bug right now, but it's all about balance: connecting with both the industrious Ant and the carefree Cicada. That is why I turned to learning recreational circus skills several years ago at a time when I couldn't see the wood for the trees. Circus, and cicadas, are a state of mind. 

www.la-coursive.com/spectacles/elephant-room-cirque-le-roux
La Rochelle, 10/11 October 2017

I carry my circus aerialist necklace with me, a talisman from a dear friend, my sea-green silks are safely stowed on board (picked up from Jair during a week intensive at Freedom2Fly - click here) as are a whole bag of juggling balls (in case any slip overboard), but still, I do miss actual circus, the community.

Then one day passing La Coursive, a renowned theatre-dance space here, a Gallic Sadlers Wells, I saw a poster advertising Cirque Le Roux bringing Elephant in the Room to La Rochelle next week. It accentuated, if not homesickness or "mal du pays" exactly, rather a sense of "mal du cirque". I had seen these guys up at the Edinburgh Fringe a couple of years ago (see post - click here), and would have loved to see the production again, wondering how it had developed over the past couple of years, and what it would be like to see it in such a different environment among a non-circus going crowd - or so I assume. Cirque Eloize brought I. D. to La Rochelle a couple of years ago, but contemporary circus does not feature heavily in La Coursive's programme in general. When it transpired that further delays to the boat meant I'd be in town to see them after all, I was further gutted to find the dates were completely sold out. 

Ah well, maybe it really is simply time to open a new chapter and not look back as my youngest assumes. But then the day we moved onto the boat a funny thing happened: I passed by the maritime-themed playground my daughters adore in centre-ville, next to the harbour, to find all sorts of circus shenanigans taking place. My Flying Fantastic-loving daughter spotted the black silks rigged first and tugged at my arm. Mum, look! It turned out that the new playground was being inaugurated that day and Cirque en Scène www.cirque-scene.fr, both a training space and company from 45 minutes down the road in Niort, had been brought in to entertain with all sorts of activities. They had a trapeze up too, a training tight-wire, rolla-bolla, globe, all sorts of juggling equipment and equilibristic apparatus. We were in seventh heaven, because, of course, I joined in too. I loved watching one of the trainers Mikhail clowning around with the kids, putting on his Donald Duck voice and getting them to fall about laughing so they would relax and forget their fear. It worked on the Mummy too, when persuaded up on my old nemesis of the globe, a hard ball that requires the penguin tapping of happy feet to balance atop. The girls and I are itching now to string up our silks alongside the sheets and get cracking again. Setting sail out of the Bay of Biscay on Wednesday, who knows what circus stories we'll discover down the road...

Chapter 213: Lucy Leaves London

I left London last week, a decade of family life boxed into three storage containers, and I am now living out of a single suitcase. Thinking of James Thierrée* I half expect the suitcase to sprout legs and run off. No wifi, one bar of reception on the mobile, if we're lucky, and we are not sure of our date yet to set sail, but it is full steam ahead with preparations.

For many years, my husband and I have talked about sailing round the world and it is a love of boats that brought us together. We both rowed at university, the same position it turned out (Bow 3, The Powerhouse), we met years later at The Boat Race, and our honeymoon was spent sailing round the Caribbean, just the two of us. Since then life intervened and I have followed a crazy career path. Who could predict that, after working for five years as a chartered accountant and charities auditor at a Yanquee Imperialist Firm (Andersens - brought down by a few clowns at Enron), I would move a few doors down from their offices on The Strand to Kings College London to carry on with post-graduate research into the Marxist critical theory at play in contemporary Cuban theatre. The irony was not lost on me, nor on the still-suited partners (now part of Deloitte's) who I would bump into in the equidistant common ground of Caffè Nero, now clad in my jeans and trainers.  And, in a further twist, to go from academia to juggling three children and part-time work to fund this full-time circus passion has been a real learning curve.  

Still, nothing has quite prepared me for the rollercoaster of the past few months. A romantic dream to sail round the world with my family some time in the future is an altogether different proposition to "right, it's now or never" that has come to its climax over the past few weeks. I say nothing has prepared me, when actually there was something. Lunch with Sean Kempton one day after Shhh! circus cabaret, where he sat me down and talked through each one of my fears and reservations, playing devil's adddvocate in a way that only a clown can. A clown who has travelled the world and a fellow parent. It struck me then that being part of the circus ecosystem has been invaluable, and maybe the best preparation of all. There is the intuitive understanding of how travel broadens the mind and makes the whole world Kin, and thanks to social media I feel part of a wider international community, with friends there to welcome us virtually in any port in the world. Writing this blog I have developed a strong sense of self too: "word painter" is how Thom Monckton described me. I like that. And the past few years of aerial training has well-equipped me for the heave-ho of ropes and clambering up masts, both in terms of developing upper body strength and a head for heights. 

Still, it is a strange sensation to leave London, a city I love above all others, and which I know so intimately, appreciating it from so many different perspectives. In fact, it is love for London and the people in it that inspired the name of this blog. Knowing I would one day leave, for years I have been steeling myself, and set up a private Instagram account called LucyLovesLondon, a scrapbook of family moments and friendship that I could look back on and smile. So when I started this circus diary, LucyLovesCircus seemed a logical choice. Love for me is not a saccharine-sweet endorsement that LucyLovesEverything. Love is an act of resistance, a statement of intention to carve out a positive space in the world. Love gives the artist courage to step out in the sawdust arena and bare their soul. Love engages. Love dares. Love risks. Love is the endgame. And Circus is a Ring of Love. Infinite. Diverse. Inclusive. So this is not the end of the blog, nor of my circus adventures, but the pace will slow down now, probably to about 5 knots an hour. Bear with with me, and I'll be sure to keep you posted, as and when I can. After an afternoon running away off to the circus (see post), now yours, in nofit state to set sail, Lucy.

*When James Thierrée brought The Toad Knew to Sadlers Wells in May, he talked afterwards about how, as part of his parents' Cirque Imaginaire, he and his sister would be carried on stage by their father, each in a suitcase, then when plonked on the ground, they would pop out their legs through holes in the bottom and run away.

Chapter 212: Bassline Circus: FLIP

AndroidX in FLIP
All photos & videography courtesy of Bassline Circus

"Luce, are you coming up to Jacksons Lane to see Bassline Circus today?" I hadn't planned on it. Home alone packing up the house on a very tight deadline, the fact that it was Transmission season was not really on my radar. But it was Leonor from Two Tongue Theatre (see Boys Club - click here) asking, and I wanted to catch up and say goodbye. And I do love the whole concept of Transmission, a circus residency programme run by Jacksons Lane giving at least a week to up to six companies a year to experiment with and develop ideas with full technical support from the theatre. There is no pressure to deliver a finished project at the end, the companies are simply invited to share where they are at and a questions and answers session generally follows. It is always super interesting to see the play and potential. Going to Transmission with three kids in tow though. How would that work?! Well, we could always discreetly slip into the back row... 

"Mum, what are we going to see?" Well, kids, we are off to see a vectorised circus concert... I didn't reply. In fact, I wasn't quite sure myself what to expect. What the FLIP?! A blend of hiphop dance, circus and graphics, it sounded like festival fun, a bit trippy. Still, nothing quite prepared me. 

Back in the foyer at Jacksons Lane, meeting up with Leonor after Postcards Festival was a funny feeling. Boys Club had been part of Postcards as well. The big top of bunting in the foyer was still up, and my son was chuffed to recognise Simple Cypher lads Kieran & Chris on a poster after seeing them there last time for Cypher Stories (click here). But the chalk board now had the Autumn programme up. We went in. Encouraged by one of the ushers, my 5 year old marched straight to the front row. I do trust my kids to behave, I reflected, while confiscating any potential noise disrupters (like crisp packets!).

Director Bex Anson introduced FLIP. Today we would see excerpts with a couple of the dancers: the Krumper AndroidX, and Flexer Kaner Flex for this sharing. In future there will be a handbalancer and the vocals of singer songwriter and emcee Eva Lazarus (see www.evalazarus.com). FLIP is an interpretation of Mathieus Malzieu's story of "The Boy With a Cuckoo-Clock Heart", transplanting the story into a boy with a pace-maker - a neat complementarity there with the robotic elements of hiphop movement - who falls in love on-line and enters a world that questions perceptions of reality, exploring impossible worlds. What followed was an awesome blend of krumping (dance), tutting (hand movements) and flexing (contortion that gave the piece a circus stamp) against a backdrop onto which all sorts of graphics were projected and vectorised by Dav Bernard. The sharing was in two scenes. In the first "dimension" the graphics followed the movement of the dancers, who literally emanated energy. It was as though we could see the mind at play on the screen behind, a running narrative of the dancer's psyche. And I was not surprised afterwards to hear the dancers appreciated the organic dynamics of having what they intuitively realise and visualise when they move choreographed on the screen behind them. 

FLIPreactive extract from Bassline Circus on Vimeo.

In the second the dancers stepped behind the screen and their shadows played into world of virtual reality, responding to a maze of scenarios that was completely mesmerising and pulled us as an audience onto a rollercoaster of an experience with them. It was clever, being drawn into the perspective of the protagonist, disorientated, searching, negotiating all manner of visual paradoxes, while for the kids it was like stepping into a computer game themselves. It will be interesting to see how these two parts, in essence fairly abstract still, will be propelled by the narrative going forward. 

FLIPshadows extract from Bassline Circus on Vimeo.

Afterwards in the Q&A session with Adrian Berry, Artistic Director of Jacksons Lane, my 9yo whispered that the dance moves had reminded her of Jungle Book (Metta Theatre's production: click here), and I was glad to hear that Bassline Circus will be exploring relaxed viewings for families going forward, as my kids thought it was utterly brilliant. I would also like to see it again in full "concert" mode, interested to hear the plans to include live vocals and fully immerse the audience, getting them on their feet just like mine wanted to. The fusion of dance, circus and visual arts that I saw has already created a unique experience that synergised, as well as energised, the audience. Going forward it will be exciting to see how this experience expands: as it stands it was mind-bending and virtually life-affirming. 

Check out Bassline Circus www.basslinecircus.org on social media @BasslineCircus for news of further developments. Next stop in Autumn: Stratford Circus.