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