Onto the Roundhouse, not edgy (no corners anyway), and as I walk up I bump into a circus friend, also en route. "Like the new hair, Lu," he says. In that comment I feel like circus Lucy is back. A new era. I'd chopped it all off the day before and consequently until then had felt rather vulnerable, ambivalent. "Tell that to my husband!" I joke. Well, it's not sooo short this time, and he is still talking to me. The last time was in Tahiti, you see, on our mega sailing trip. A visit to an expat French hairdresser had resulted in a gamine pixie crop, and my husband simply blanked me for 24 hours. It was only the sheer comedy of his reaction, not to mention the attention of a young Greek sailor next to me at dinner that night, that kept my sense of humour going through the spectacle of Heiva that followed, a festival celebrating Polynesian heritage where hip-gyrating beauties in straw skirts tossed their tumbling, lustrous locks from side to side. You have to laugh sometimes. That's the dance we weave in relationships, that balancing act between wanting to please those we love and being true to ourselves, the course we steer.
Back to the present, at the studio, there was already such a rush of well-being in recognising so many familiar faces from the circus community who had come to see the work in progress, and meeting some new folk too, helping out with the production and in the audience, as we waited around in the foyer to be ushered in by producer Anna Duncan.
Lydia Harper took the floor and introduced the piece, which had been a couple of months in gestation and then six days in rehearsal at the Roundhouse. Lydia had taken inspiration from the book Someone Who Will Love You in All Your Damaged Glory by Raphael Bob-Waksberg, a collection of short stories that explores and celebrates the complexity of human relationships in all their glorious comedy of errors and reconciliations. They had clearly had a ball over the past week rehearsing, as came across in the Instagram footage leading up to the showing, and Lydia observed that the secret was simply "just to work with very nice people".
The cast was made up of performers from different backgrounds, spanning dance, aerial and acrobatic disciplines. Their different skills combined beautifully with the energy between them to explore a whole variety of relationships, whether nurturing or heartbreaking, across nine separate scenes. The format echoed that of the book, but there were threads and developments running through too.
The Chinese pole was initially central to the space. I loved the innovation in the ways the performers mounted it, whether a solo climb, in duet, or using other performers gathered around it as a spiral staircase up. I wish I had the technical terms to do justice to all the tricks and bouncy energy of Josh Hoffman springing from move to move. Josh has previously performed with Ockham's Razor in Public, a piece exploring community, play and mutual support, and I liked the echo of that here, with the performers quite literally helping one another reach new heights. Then Maddie, bringing a quieter strength to the pole, her movements sinuous, almost river-like, before an inversion led to a sudden drop backwards, friends at the ready to catch her. Trust made visible.
Later, a beautiful duet on pole between Josh and Rebecca had both power and tenderness as they balanced each other out. I'd last seen Rebecca in Mimbre's Weight(less), where she was lifted by her fellow performers. Here, at moments, she was the one basing Josh, lifting him up the pole. I loved seeing that reversal, the roles of lifting and being lifted shifting once again.
The performance also illustrated how far we go to please each other and when to let go. Adam Havsky had come onto my radar this summer through his solo circus show Norman's Big Day Out, which I've still yet to see, but I was delighted to get a taste of his clowning here. There was wonderful comedy in his breakdance and body-popping moves to get Dilly's attention, not least those puppy-dog eyes pleading for her approval. His facial expressions were half the fun, at other moments quizzical, conveying as much as the movement itself. Dilly, meanwhile, watched with a sanguine, almost benevolent detachment, graceful and composed, but not quite drawn into his world.
It reminded me of a moment in Kook Ensemble's Sand where Myles tries to entertain Dilly through juggling at the breakfast table. In that piece, the heartbreak comes as Dilly becomes absorbed in the world of her younger self, drawing the younger couple into her play while Myles is left on the outside looking in. Here the circumstances were quite different, and the comedy much broader, but there was something similarly poignant in watching someone trying so hard to connect.
Adam's antics made me laugh, but it was when sparks began flying between Dilly and Maddie that her whole demeanour changed. The serene composure gave way to childlike delight, her graceful movements now animated by a shared sense of mischief and play.
With a rope suspended between them, they both moved into handstands, passing the rope between each other's feet and looping it around, before Maddie took to the air in her specialist discipline, aerial rope, set to Obsessions. It was stunning. At the end, high up on the rope, the bottom was held taut by the rest of the group as she slid down, doubled over, visually spectacular. Simple movements also touched me, like a seated hug, eloquent in its simplicity.
Perhaps rivers were already running through my mind because I'd just finished Elif Shafak's There Are Rivers in the Sky, in which Zaleekhah leaves her husband and moves onto a houseboat on the Thames, finding an unexpected connection with Nen, the woman who owns it. There was something of that sense of possibility in the energy between Dilly and Maddie, of relationships changing course and carrying us somewhere unexpected. Or perhaps it's simply that the books we read flow into the way we see the world.
As well as romance at play there was bromance, not least in the light-hearted one-upmanship in dance moves between Josh and Jason, which really made me smile. Jason comes from a dance background and I believe this was his first time working on a circus show. It was lovely to see him picking up the energy of the ensemble, and a few tricks along the way. His artistic eye clearly contributed to the creative mix too, not least in a wonderful sketch he'd drawn of the whole cast, rather Quentin Blake in style, which LEAP Circus later shared on Instagram. It captured something of that same playful spirit.
And then there was Rufus, the invisible, mischievous dog, slipper thief and serial absconder. There is a whole short story devoted to his perspective on life in Bob-Waksberg's collection. I smiled as the last Rufus I'd seen at the circus was a uni friend of mine who'd come along to Revel Pucks this summer, but what really made me laugh was the entreaties of the cast as they tried to bring Rufus to heel. He added to the rich tapestry of relationships that enrich life, and I appreciated that thread of absurdity running through the scenes as love, friendship and acrobatics played out around him.
Perhaps that's part of what I enjoyed about this showing. There was room for the ridiculous as well as the touching, for moments of spectacular physical skill alongside small, recognisable human gestures. Not everything needed explaining, nor would you expect it to after six days in the rehearsal room, and yet it felt complete, as well rounded as the performers themselves.
I came away smiling, glad to have spent an afternoon in such good company. I loved Lydia's vision for the piece, and the way this wonderful team of artists had brought it together, each contributing their own skills, personalities and creative energy. What stayed with me was the warmth between them, the humour, the genuine care and, above all, the pleasure they clearly took in playing together.
On the way home I downloaded Bob-Waksberg's collection on Audible, and I've been listening to it ever since. It dovetails rather nicely with another collection of short stories I picked up on my recent trip to York, Clarice Lispector's The Burned Sinner and the Harmonious Angels. Both writers have a way of finding the surreal in the everyday, exploring the peculiarities and complexities of human relationships. Perhaps that's what I enjoyed so much about Damaged Glory too, seeing those absurdities and tendernesses given physical expression.
And I haven't even mentioned the music, which was brilliant. What a soundtrack, from Florence + The Machine's The End of Love to Marina's Obsessions, Freddie Mercury's Living on My Own and Irma Thomas's Anyone Who Knows What Love Is. Daria's video footage captures the spirit of the showing beautifully, and I love that it also gives a flavour of the music, so integral to the mood and movement of the piece. It's a wonderful glimpse of Lydia's vision and the collective creativity that brought it to life.
I can't wait to see where Damaged Glory goes next.
Director: Lydia Harper
Producer: Anna Duncan
Cast (alphabetical by surname): Madeleine Fuller, Adam Havsky, Joshua Hoffman, Jason Kandaiah, Rebecca Solomon, Dilly Taylor.
Video: Daria Izworska
Photos courtesy of Lydia Harper
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