Chapter 135: Calder's Universe and the Art of Circus

Calder's Universe
Photo: www.astrofella.wordpress.com

It was Einstein’s birthday the other day, and I felt like shouting Eureka! Here is something to celebrate! For if ever there is a figure who incarnates circus as a state of mind it is Einstein, in the flexibility of his thinking and generosity of a spirit open to the wonder of life and the limitless possibilities. I was struck again by this connection a few days later when at the Tate Modern, standing in front of “Calder’s Universe” a mechanical mobile, in front of whose cycle of 90 rotations Einstein once spent 45 minutes standing and observing. The art that derives from the motion is "kinetic", though sadly I am unable to appreciate that dimemsion as the piece is now too fragile to be allowed to move. But although the two balls threaded through the wire are now static, suspended in time and space, still I am transported by the wonder of Einstein’s perspective. Did the motion of the spheres that held his gaze still for so long inspire a deeply complex philosophical reverie, or encourage his mind simply to play? Isn’t it a combination of the two that leads to the most exciting discoveries? I experience a frisson.  Relatively speaking, Einstein and I are inhabiting the same space for a moment and it feels like a portal to another realm has opened up. Unheimlich. Uncanny. Another example of the circus zeitgeist. 

Aerialist. c.1926-31
Photo: Alexander Calder Performing Sculpture p.98

Alexander Calder was a sculptor with a passion for the mechanics of circus. Born to artist parents, he was fascinated by the way things worked and originally went into engineering before a spectacular sunset called him to study art instead. After graduation, he paid the bills drawing sketches for circus giants Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey, but “it wasn’t the daringness of the performers nor the trick and gimmick, it was the fantastic balance in motion that the performer exhibited” that fascinated him, along with the workings of the rigging and pullies that made the impossible possible. Calder began fashioning his vision out of wires. The simplicity of Calder’s sculptures is what grabs me, and Room 3 is where the circus is at, marrying his love of sawdust and mechanics. The way Calder can use a wiggle to suggest a hand or the impression of a limb captures the essence of circus. “Embodying the vitality of dancers or acrobat Calder’s sculptures were performers in their own right”.  I admire the bawdy as well as the beauty in his work, like the family of acrobats "The Brass Family" displaying their naked frame along with their naked strength, the cheeky impressions of the father's pubic hair, and the mother's breasts arguing with gravity, making me chuckle. And then there is the ebullient  Josephine Baker (mentioned in the previous post on clowning), designed to wiggle and jiggle with conical breasts that, as the guide points out, prefigure Madonna's own fashion, herself not adverse to a spot of clowning around (again, see previous post). I loved the detail, like the umbrella of the tightwire walkers, the animals and the scenes set, and returned later to sketch out my own impression (pictured below). There is also a video screened of "Cirque Calder", which established his reputation, a miniature circus that Calder used to carry around and would show to small groups, in performances that could last up to a couple of hours. 

But the circus thread, albeit a metal one, is not limited to Room 3, instead running through the whole exhibition. Fascinated by the abstract art of the likes of Piet Mondrian, Calder brought shapes into a play of balance and motion that just shouldn't work, but somehow it does. Marcel Duchamps called this "mobile" art, a French word that denotes "motive" as much as "motion". And what is the motive? Making the impossible possible, no? How very circus. 

The delicate balance of reed-like shapes with a feather at the bottom in "Snow Flurry 2" reminded me of the legendary Sandhorn act performed by Marula in Cirque Rigolo (see post on "Wings In My Heart" at the Edinburgh Fringe - click here) and more recently by her elder sister Lara Rigolo in Cirque de Soleil's Amaluna. I see red balls suspended like clown noses, ready to bounce into other objects when you are least expecting it - at least they would have originally - and Calder loved the randomness and unpredictability of the movement. A moment of slapstick is captured on the audio guide when Sartre describes how one of the shimmering sculptures that had stopped moving, sprung to life in a breeze and caught him unawares, rather like a clown's clout. Calder would often engineer the breezes, leaving doors ajar if the inherent draughtiness of his studio wasn't doing the trick. Calder worked with sound that resulted from these collisions, incorporating gongs into certain pieces, and was able to transcribe, improvise and actually stage orchestral music that responded to the chance movements in his mobile art. Like Picasso, he designed for theatre on occasion, not as a backdrop or window-dressing, but rather, ideally, as a central component of the performance. Ahead of his time. Ultimately the sheer optimism and joy in Calder's work, ever responsive to its environment and a vision of modernity, conjures up a sense of wonder and thrill that for me is what circus as a state of mind is all about. 

"Britain's happiest exhibition*" is now in its final weeks, until 3 April, catch it while you can.

"Gamma" 1947 - Postcard from Tate Modern

* As per poster advertisement on tube, quoting the Financial Times.

Chapter 131: Cirque Beserk

Roll up, roll up! The Big Top has arrived in the West End! Ever since seeing Zippos at Christmas at the Winter Wonderland with the kids (click here), I have been counting down the days to seeing the Zippos adult show. No, not that sort of adult show, love. There is an element of exotic dancing to be sure, complete with ripped torsos, sequins and feathers, but it's on at Sadlers Wells, not Madame Jojos! Cirque Beserk, as the tagline goes, is great for kids, and even better for grown ups. I went last night with my husband. After our clowning on ice episode before Christmas (click here), he has been laid up with a broken leg, but, while still on crutches, the cast came off last week and this was our first date night of the new year. It was rather romantic, my funny valentine to him, and great to see that Cirque Beserk rolled the red carpet out in our honour. OK, so it wasn't for us, it happened to be opening night and if I saw less circus and watched more television, I could tell you who's who. But there were plenty of paparazzi and VIPs enjoying having their photo taken with the buff, young performers, and I was enjoying the spectacle before the show had even begun! 

Sitting up in the dress circle, we had a wonderful view of the stage. Social media and photography are actively encouraged and we have some great footage to share, though nothing beats seeing the show live. With 35 performers and 30 circus skills on offer, listing them all risks sounding like a shopping list, but my goodness, we were totally swept away by the thrills and skills on offer. I loved the buccaneer vibe of the Timbuktu Tumblers from Kenya, their joy and humour shining through their acrobatics and flaming limbo. The latina in me loved the "bolas argentinas", the weights on the ends of the chords traditionally used by Argentine cowboys, the rhythm of the beat they crack on the floor reminding me of a flamenco dancer conjuring up the duende. And I was in awe again (after seeing them in Zippos) watching the spectacular Tropicana Troupe from Cuba, flying off a teeterboard through the air with staggering dexterity and aplomb.

As I'm learning a few juggling tricks at the moment, hard enough with my hands, watching the French foot-juggler was completely mind boggling and a study in control and speed. As for the knife throwing, well the blazing knives contouring the body on a rotating wheel was something else - the fact that it was a Czech husband and wife act made me laugh (once it was safely over), for it takes trust and the concept of marital harmony to a whole new level! There were stunning hand-balance sequences, both on canes and stacks of chairs, an English aerialist in straps eliciting gasps at her spins and drops, and a Finnish duo combining extraordinary shapes and equilibrium in their handstand duet. I had been very much looking forward to the Mongolian archery act, which lived up to its exotic promise, delighting as the contortionist gracefully extricated herself from a glass jar to take aim with her feet - it was bang on target.  All this was framed by dancers and aerial ballet transitioning the main acts with grace and finesse, set to lively music with a Romany air. And what would a circus be without its clown holding it all together, despite ladders and bicycles collapsing left, right and centre.?! It was Tweedy, last seen at Giffords Circus (click here). I adore Tweedy because he has gentle comedy genius. Adults and children alike, he has us laughing with his unique blend of slapstick whether on unicycle, rolla bolla or slackline, and a variety of brilliant tricks up his sleeve, in his hat and down his trousers...

The finale was staggering, and a serious treat for my husband who loves his bikes. A motorcyclist in a globe of terror is a sight to behold. I have seen a little on Instagram via the feed of a virtual friend from Colombia, so I knew something of the form, but with a film uploaded, you know already they have survived. Watching The Lucius Team live is a different viewing experience. By the end of the first act there were two bikers in the globe, enough of a heart-attack, but for the grand finale there were four, and a girl in the centre - that's just insane!

Risk, I thought, the wonder of this show comes down to risk. Ever single element of this production contains significant risk, but it is lightly worn due to the hard work, experience and commitment clear in their preparation. This is a show that is slick, glossy, proud, but never smug. And living in multi-cultural London, I loved seeing circus folk hailing from travelling circuses all over the world, come together for one show. It's a microcosm for the way the world should work, a harmonious, exciting, vibrant exchange, full of love and welcoming all. Thank you Zippos and Cirque Beserk. Wonder-full. Bravo! Encore!

Chapter130: Svalbard: All Genius All Idiot

Photo: Ben Smith and Santi Ruiz
Kuba Jee Jelen at Jatka78 

All Genius All Idiot. Never has a show been better named. Crazy, anarchic and all over the place with high octane energy. Arriving just in time and taking one of the last seats at the very front, I felt I was at the brunt of a rollercoaster, along for the ride.

Svalbard are a young international company comprising four performers (Ben Smith, Santi Ruiz, John Simon Wiborn, Tom Brand) who met training at the DOCH, Stockholm's university of dance and circus. They’ve been together a couple of years, and when I first saw their pitch for this show at the circus marketplace Canvas (click here) in Spring, I remember wondering where on earth I’d begin if I was ever to write about them. Maybe with the start. A guy on a tiny platform atop a Chinese pole wearing a huge pair of antlers and a fur coat, playing a mandolin (not a ukelele or a banjo #amlearning). I liked the novelty, loved the music, and also the soundscape later playing with water, voice, and the squeal of a piglet lamp - surreal doesn’t quite cut it. 

It was like a piece of performance art crossed with a gig - there wasn’t a narrative, more a series of character presentations and interactions. The rutting stag, he of the antlers, was alpha dominant, letting rip under a fur coat his inner drag queen in diaphanous top, fishnets, and donning vertiginous perspex heels. The others conjured up a wolf pack, young, cute, sexy and wild, I could imagine them all spilling over into The Box afterwards and partying the night away, no holds barred, and could see how they would develop a cult following of guys and girls alike. It was like being back at uni in the grime, watching Garbage at the Corn Exchange.

One of my favourite points was the use of masks on the back of the heads, and clothes back to front to reverse the bodies, so beautifully done. The sequences on Chinese pole were mesmerising from the word go, opening with the use of a body as an elevator to give another a lift down. Later, a precarious striptease on the top of the pole released a cloud of shimmering gold confetti as the trousers whipped off to reveal a pair of pink speedos. Point? No clue, it was just pure joy. I loved the stunning, exhilarating turns on rope, experiencing the thrill of the drop and the grace of movement that translated into acrobatic dance and hand-to-hand elements, even if I still wince at the body-slamming and the abandon with which they surfed the stage, nutters. Registering a strapped ankle I reflected that it's savage what they put their bodies through, but Svalbard are clearly having fun and want to get the party started. By the end, I could hardly bear to watch as they climbed on each others shoulders, my stomach lurched, and then the one on the top reached out and tapped the neon Svalbard sign on, both pointless and brilliant at the same time. All Genius All Idiot. Indeed. 

Check out their website: www.svalbardcompany.com

Update: Catch at Edinburgh Fringe 2017. Book tickets here: https://tickets.edfringe.com/whats-on/all-genius-all-idiot

Chapter 129: Aneckxander

Photo:www.alexandervantournhout.be

On my way to trapeze class this evening, my mind buzzing with thoughts of circus, I walked passed a poster for the musical of "Mrs Henderson Presents" and registered the tagline: "For the show to go on, the clothes must come off...". Ha! I thought, that could have been written for Aneckxander, and smiled. 

I nearly missed Aneckxander at Jacksons Lane, the work of performer Alexander Vantournhout and dramaturg Bauke Lievens, part of the London International Mime Festival. The promo shot, as you can see, was the back view of a bald, naked man in boxing gloves and weighted platform shoes mid-way through an acrobatic turn. It looked brutal, uncomfortable, and abstract. There was a clear crossover with contemporary dance, and, unschooled in that language, I thought I would be in danger of switching off.  Why did I go then? Because it was recommended by someone I rate, and because anyone who lays claim to a circus spirit must, by rights, step outside their comfort zone. I shudder now to think what I would have otherwise missed - simply the most beautiful, raw, touching, sensitive reflection on the body, well, specifically Alexander’s body, in all it’s glorious limitations, vulnerabilities and possibilities. 

Alexander Vantournhout has a neck. A rather long neck, as he was once told, and from this he has drawn out a narrative that explores, through every muscle and fibre of his being, the ambivalence that any artist experiences towards exposure. Actually, it couldn't have been better timed for a blogger struggling with being increasingly on display, each post revealing a little more of my quirks, eccentricities and desires, a tall poppy blushing red. We take our seats, the performance begins and something isn't right. It's Vantournhout - he's wearing clothes! Do I experience a moment of relief? It's gone in a flash, as are the clothes, whipped off in a cheeky sleight of hand that wouldn't have been out of place in Mrs Henderson's Windmill, and now we are confronted with Vantournhout’s extraordinary body. It has an alien quality, you can imagine it uncurling from a foetal position, curious, exploratory, innocent, unselfconscious, ripe for the study. I, in turn, am fascinated, observing every twitch and ripple of this latter day Virtruvian Man (apparently Vantournhout also does cyr wheel), a face by turn radiant with joy or tinged with a tragic air of an angel whose wings have been clipped. Watching the strange forms into which Vantournhout can contort, is not dissimilar to the experience of reading Katherine Dunn's weird and wonderful Geek Love, a novel that challenges our notions of freakish and normal. 

There is a simple melody - I found the music quite haunting - that Vantournhout records on a keyboard, and then interprets through his body while it replays. Patterns repeat and Vantournhout plays with our expectations, as we anticipate painful body slams or searing drops into splits. He then alters and fine tunes the arrangement. It is exquisitely done, and there was a mathematical precision to the lines and shapes he made that reminded me of elements of Gandini’s self-reflexive Meta (click here). There were laugh-out-loud funny moments, grotesque at points, like when Vantournhout pulls out an impossibly long (fake) tongue further and further, and, in tandem, toys with his willy in a game of fort-da reciprocity. But there were points of almost unbearable poignancy too. For me, maybe because of the experience of clowning I’m accumulating, the most bittersweet moment was when Vantournhout donned a clown’s ruff. I felt a stab of pain for this naked Pierrot, drawn to his tender, elastic fragility, that both strips away and underpins his superhuman strength. There is no end to the performance, no crash bang wallop finale. Vantourhout carries on, pottering around on stage, as the audience drifts out. I would have liked to stay in gentle companionship, but the tug of family life was pulling me home. What was he without our gaze? I wondered. Did he simple cease to be? Stunning.

Chapter 127: Le Patin Libre - Vertical

From left: Jasmin Boivin, Alexandre Hamel, Taylor Dilley, Samory Ba, Pascale Jodoin

Exhilarating, funny, thrilling, mesmerising, Dance Umbrella  brought the quintet of Canadian skaters in Le Patin Libre to carve up the ice at Somerset House last week with the a fusion of graceful ballet and engaging street performance. Half an hour passed in a flash of light and shadow, choreographed to stunning urban soundscape of rich, atmospheric music, audible breath, and a shattering of crystal shards, bringing new definition to the idea of a "son et lumiere" spectacle.

Le Patin Libre had come onto my radar in the summer in the buzz of the Edinburgh Fringe, winning The Total Theatre and The Place award for contemporary dance, and I couldn't wait to take my husband, as he grew up in Switzerland doing winter sports, just like these guys. That was until disaster struck when we were Clowning on Ice (click here). So instead I went with one of my dearest friends, another hand-holding skate partner, and we met up there with my first ever ice guide Rosie, also a storyteller and performer (@RosieTellsTales) who was working on front of house. Somerset House floodlight in pink and purple was a sight to behold, a stunning frame for the frozen stage.

Samory Ba

The first thing to note when Le Patin Libre return, and trust me, they must, is that you really do have to wrap up warm. Hats, scarves, gloves and a good couple of glasses of mulled wine in the green room café beside the rink should do the trick. The next is that the show is half an hour, so on one level, be prepared for it to go at top speed (literally), but at the same time, such is the intense beauty and thrill of the spectacle that it also feels like time is suspended.

Le Patin Libre, free skate, has a certain vibe of urban skateboarders on ice, a group that celebrates its diversity, in all shapes and sizes, a complete antithesis to the sequinned and permatan uniformity that the concept of Dancing on Ice conjures up. I liked the outfits of the skaters, casually co-ordinated in stone, slate, and mustard, which highlighted the natural harmony between them. I thought it was important too that there was a female skater, not overtly sexualised but bringing a feminine power and strength, that brought balance to the make-up of the group.

As with all things, I find circus everywhere, so when they raced towards us at speed, stopping at the last moment and playing with our nerves, it reminded me of the opening scene that morning I had seen in a trailer to the French film Chocolat, where the self-styled "black clown" toys with the conventional expectations of the audience. And it's funny, because the London International Mime Festival is in full swing at the moment, and there were elements in certain solo turns that I could also see extended into full-blown mime stand-alone pieces. 

Pascale, me and Rosie

They are all championship skaters, "gliding enthusiasts and weirdos" as founder Alexandre Hammel describes them (click here), but it was interesting to note that one was wearing a pair of ice hockey skates, while the rest were wearing figure skates, which affects certain movements, I understand. They belonged to Jasmin, who came to free skating, incredibly, only about four years ago (makes me think of the prodigy in the "The Mighty Ducks" - name me a pro-skater who didn't see that film as a child! I watched it with the kids at Christmas...), while the others are figure skaters by training. This is why at one point Jasmin sits out on a piece of group choreography, and it was a brave decision to have him seated on the side of the rink, so much in the fore, in an end piece, because for a split second I wondered if he had been injured. So slickly done, he clearly wasn't, but I appreciated the explanation later from Rosie as to why. It was Jasmin, as well, who composed the stunning music score. I wish I had enough skating knowledge to explain how and why the "s" figures, twists, jumps and balances were so exquisite, but all I can say was that the vertiginous acrobatics held me in rapt attention from start to finish. And I laughed so much as well, I hadn't expected that.

Afterwards, the skaters first concern was for the audience and whether we were warm enough, and yet they were the ones shivering away but standing out afterwards meeting us and saying hello. So, back in Montreal now, thank you Pascale, Alex, Samory, Taylor and Jasmin, it was a joy so see you in action, finally - chapeau! A la prochaine...

Note: Chocolat stars Omar Sy and James Thiérrée and is officially released in February. It is based on the true story of iconic clown duo Footit & Chocolat, the latter an ex-slave from Havana, a history I kow well, given the years I spent studying Cuban theatre and el teatro bufo. Omar Sy is best known for "The Intouchables", and James Thiérrée is the son of Victoria Thiérrée, who makes an appearance in Fellini's "I Clowns", herself in turn the daughter of Charlie Chaplin. They do not trade at all on the Chaplin legacy, but there is little doubt they inherited the gene. And it's funny too, speaking of Chaplin and skating, because I had tweeted Le Patin Libre this extract from his film "The Rink" which made them laugh too:

There have been pre-release parties in celebration, footage of which I spent last night retweeting - check out Arts on Mouvement @CIAM_aix #ChocolatLeFilm on Twitter and Instagram. I am looking forward to seeing the film when it hits the UK,  and making plans already to see it with the group I'll be doing the clown acting workshop with in February (see bottom of post on Marcel click here). Who else?! If nothing else, check out the stunning trailer - no English subtitles, but am sure you'll get the gist:

Chapter 125: "Marcel" at the London International Mime Festival

Marcello Magni in Marcel
Photo: Pascal Victor/ArtComArt

Do you ever feel that life is one long Takeshi’s Castle of absurd pitfalls and pratfalls? And that all you can do is pick yourself up, laugh it off and Carry On Up The Khyber?! That’s how winter has felt for me, and with a milestone birthday fast approaching, age comes into play. Maybe that’s why I am embracing the idea of clowning so wholeheartedly at the moment. In fact, I just signed up yesterday for a five day workshop in February back at The Poor School*, an extension of the workshop with Ira Seidenstein’s in November (see Clowning Around).  If I’m going to make a fool of myself, at least may it provide some form of entertainment.

So when professional clown Sean Kempton, currently on the other side of the world on tour with Cirque de Soleil, recommended I see Jos Houben at the Mime Festival, it went straight to the top of my wish-list. Houben was in two shows, a one-off performance of his acclaimed The Art of Laughter, and Marcel, in partnership with Marcello Magni, which opened the London International Mime Festival.

Restricted by the logistics of looking after a husband with a broken leg, and three children, I slipped out after lunch and was back before tea for for the Sunday matinée of Marcel, though it was sorely tempting to stow away in the back of the auditorium afterwards, and stay on for the Art of Laughter that followed. The first surprise was to read in the programme that “Marcel”, which I had assumed to be a nod to Marceau, was in fact a reference to a vest worn by labourers, the everyman. The second was to see Houben and Magni moving going up and down the aisles, meeting random members of the public - there was a generosity in that gesture that characterised the whole performance, and warmed up the audience before the show had even begun.

In a Kafkaesque scenerio, Magni, a short, compact, ageing Italian performer, has some sort of work permit that needs stamping, and Houben, a tall, gangly Belgian, sets all sorts of physical tests for him to pass first.  Each actor is uniquely funny, and together the chemistry generates a physical poetry in motion, making me think of the tradition of old where troubadors would  throw each other a line of verse to catch and develop. And of course the duo are a contemporary articulation of a long line of supreme clowns and comedy pairings: Laurel & Hardy, Abbot & Costello, Morecombe & Wise, to name a few. 

The action revolves around a curved wooden scuplture - work of art, block, ramp, balance, slide, platform - that was a fulcrum for all manner of agile mishaps, stumbles and tumbles. And then there were classic gags, exquisitely timed, the cigarette that wouldn't light, the wayward umbrella, the rebellious springy stool - my cheeks were aching from start to finish at this "il bufo" brand of clowning. The flipside of the double-headed clowning coin was a beautiful nod to the poignant Pierrot, in a collar deftly made out of newspaper, ruffled by the breeze of time. At the end of the day, the joke is, none of us are getting out of this alive, and there are two ways of dealing with it this burlesque: you can either have a sense of humour failure about it, or laugh along with Marcel. Bravo! Chapeau! Bring it on! 

* Johannes Alinhac, aka "Butzi", is leading the five day workshop on Clown acting and creativity through body exercises at The Poor School, Kings Cross 22-26 February. Butzi is an actor and magician who has trained with Ira Seidenstein for many years, and uses his methodology, which is a powerful tool for any performer or storyteller. Contact Christopher Howell for more details. See event page (click here)

Chapter 124: A New Year of Circus

Photo: Underground tube
www.simonkay.co.uk (click here)

In the bleak midwinter... well, it's pretty grim (reaper), isn't it? Damp and dark, rain on rain, without even the guts for snow. I wonder if that's why the London International Mime Festival (LIMF) in January, hot on the heels of Twelfth Night, throws up such a veritable feast of innovative performances from the world of visual and physical theatre. There are 18 shows all told, as well as workshops and screenings of vintage classic circus films. For the full low-down, background and everything you need to know, read Donald Hutera's interview with co-directors Helen Lannaghan and Joseph Seelig at www.run-riot.com (click here)

I have to confess, for me it makes slightly painful reading as I can only make a couple of events this year. "Tasty" and "tantalising" are the adjectives that head up Donald Hutera's article, and indeed I do feel the taste buds in my mouth welling up, and watering, on reading the description of each show in turn. Still, it's relative progress on last year when I couldn't make any at all.

On Sunday, 10 January, I will be seeing Marcel with and by Jos Houben and Marcello Magni (www.mimelondon.com - click here), which opens the festival at the Shaw Theatre. It ticks a number of boxes. As someone who has just signed up to another workshop in clowning and improvisation in February, it will be an eye opener looking at physical movement. And as someone with a significant birthday creeping up next month the description "despite the fact that the age of his body no longer allows the agility of his youth, he still has a trump-card up his sleeve: his child spirit" struck a chord. Make that a gong! I would love to see Jos Houben in The Art of Laughter as well, and am looking forward to hearing about it from friends.  Nola Rae's superb workshop The Clown Speaks Without Words (click here), would that I could, is on 9 and 10 January: click here.

Photo: Ockham's Razor - Tipping Point
www.canvas-london.org.uk

I will be going to Jacksons Lane a couple of weeks later to see Aneckxander (click here), "a raw self-portrait in which the body exposes itself to and tries to escape from the prying eyes of those looking at it." I've heard Alexander is a phenomenal performer, and as a blogger, this idea of the artist's ambivalence towards the necessary exposure of performance resonates particularly at the moment. 

Two of the companies in the listings I have seen in action before.  I caught an excerpt of Swedish Svalbard's All Genius All Idiot (click here) in a pitch at the circus market place Canvas at Jacksons Lane in April. They are mad, surreal, funny, moving and push the limits - the mind boggles at what could be in store in the full-length version. Meanwhile I saw Ockham's Razor in action for the first time at the Edinburgh Fringe this summer, and was blown away. I haven't seen Tipping Point (click here) but this is a stunningly innovative aerial theatre company and not to be missed. 

In other news, Proteus Theatre is touring my home county of Hampshire at the moment with a production of Little Red and the Wolves (click here). We had a superb time at their family show Rapunzel last year (click here), and while this year it is not a circus show per se, it stars, among others, Kaveh Rahnama, who I've seen in a couple of circus productions, and know it will appeal to anyone with a circus spirit. Ends 17th January.

The superb Canadian acrobatic skaters Le Patin Libre are at Somerset House this week, as mentioned in post Clowning on Ice (click here), with their unique blend of circus meets performance art on ice.

This clown here is also hoping at some point to fulfil a certain pledge to the Slapstick Festival in Bristol 20-25th January, see http://www.slapstick.org.uk, which screens silent comedy classics, has a gala and all sorts going on.

After seeing Zippos at Winter Wonderland, I am looking forward to catching the huge variety of stunts and contemporary circus skills on offer in their show Cirque Berserk now on tour and back in London at the Peacock Theatre, Sadlers Wells 8-24 February. www.cirqueberserk.co.uk (click here).

On my wishlist, La Soirée is in full swing (click here for last year's cryptic guide) and, as well as the familiar favourites, I would love to see the new acts, like resident clown Mooky Cornish - see the review in Time Out (click here) - ends 17th January.

And then there is Cirque de Soleil's Amaluna at the Royal Albert Hall which promises to "send your heart soaring to places it's never been before." www.cirquedusoleil.com/amaluna

For further news on other circus treats this January see Kate Kavanagh: www.thisiscabaret.com/circus-treats-whats-on-in-january

For the annual circus reunion taking place in Nottingham see: www.thisiscabaret.com/circus-reunion-2016
Circus Development Forum at the National Centre for Circus Arts on 14 January see: www.nationalcircus.org.uk/professional-artists/circus-development-forum

Happy New Year and here's to the bright times ahead!