Chapter 82: Giffords Circus presents Moon Songs

“The lunatic, the lover, and the poet, are of imagination all compact.” 

(Shakespeare: Midsummer Night's Dream)

I have started writing this on Midsummer's Eve, and romance is in the air. Just back from my sister's wedding in Hampshire where she and my new brother-in-law tied the knot, third time lucky for both of them. I am high on the joy, love and laughter that shone throughout the day, meeting the groom's family, discovering many crossover connections, building bridges, embracing family. I am also still under the spell of Giffords Circus "Moon Songs" which we went to see on Monday with the children, and am trying to conjure up words to do justice to some enchanted evening. Giffords Circus is legendary, the byword for glamour and circus chic. I've heard so many tales, about the terrific Nell Gifford and her extended circus family, from friends, shocked that I've never been before. My favourite is the one about the nanny who went to look after the Gifford children and ended up as one of the acts. Urban myth?! For the uninitiated, Giffords Circus is a vintage 1930s style Big Top circus that tours round the Cotswolds, taking its family name, in old-school fashion, from Nell and Toti Gifford. Nell is the one who ran away with the circus, and Toti is her husband, producing dreams together. The circus is so popular that by the time I heard about it arriving at Chiswick House weekend tickets were all sold out, and we opted for the after-school option. The children were delighted. Circus on a school night!

The weekend had been full on, among other things, celebrating our wedding anniversary while hosting a party for twenty excitable 7 year olds and an animal menagerie. Actually, twelve years on, I thought my husband and I as a double act were doing pretty well, until the moment when we were upstaged by a royal python. Snaking through traffic at rush hour the following day, to get to the circus in Chiswick via the Hammersmith flyover, was even more hair-raising. So when we finally arrived at Chiswick House car park, barely minutes before the performance began, I was feeling pretty wrecked. Still, as soon as we crossed into the Secret Space, of the walled garden that was housing the circus, we were hit by a mouthwatering waft of candy that dissolved the stress of the journey. It felt like everything had come up smelling of popcorn after all. The performance really started outside the tent. The stage was set by the smart burgundy and cream of the surrounding caravan trailers, the razzle-dazzle  in the form of the charming bellboy ushers and leggy usherettes in their velvets and tasselled  epaulettes. And we spotted Tweedy the Clown wandering around, thanks to his signature tuft of red hair, dragging along an iron attached via an ankle bracelet. That made me laugh - I'm not the only one chained to the housework! 


The magic continued to work round the back where we chanced upon the stables and the children caught a glimpse of the horses being groomed for the show. And who could resist the enchantment of a tumble of candyfloss when there is a fair organ playing in the background? We scoffed the last wisp at the entrance to the tent just as my husband arrived, and as we crossed the threshold the sticky sweet scent of circus changed to savoury notes of sawdust and starlight. There is a free-seating system and the place was packed, but the ushers managed to squeeze us into the last few remaining seats just by the band. Dressed in satins, topped with conical hats they reminded me of musical harlequins and it felt like we had hit the jackpot. Tweedy the Clown, meanwhile, in his own inimitable vaudeville style already had the crowd in stitches attempting to assemble and sit down on a deckchair.  Looking across at my Swiss husband, on his first visit to a Big Top in the UK, I could see a switch flick off work-mode in an instant, and the kids faces were a study in delight. 

The show is called "Moon Songs", and we had fun spotting the lunar references in each piece of music. "Fly Me To The Moon" struck up during the interval, our first wedding dance, which was a happy piece of serendipity for this anniversary outing. The title also encapsulates the romance and the lunacy of anyone wishing to run away to the circus, like the stellar jugglers, the brothers Bibi and Bichu. We meet them first as children in their African bed, conjuring up a Big Top on a village green that begs the question: did they dream up Giffords, or did Giffords dream up them?! From there spins the world of a fairground by the light of the silvery moon, with the master of ceremonies, the great Orodoff, swapping the ringmaster's red tailcoat and top hat for the trappings of a mesmerising Victorian illusionist, assisted by David, boyishly clad in a sailor-suit. Tweedy provides continuity between acts, forecasting them as Magda, the mechanical clairvoyant in her booth - transporting me back to childhood trips to the Cabaret Mechanical Theatre in Covent Garden (click here) - and as the face of the Man in the Moon, pictured. The latter, a nod to the aesthetics of George Méliès'  silent classic "A Trip to the Moon" (click here for link to film), also reminded me of Robin William's cameo as a planet in Terry Gilliam's surreal "Time Bandits" (again, click here for link to the film). 







David's demonic skill on the diabolo reignited the spark our son had been carrying for the discipline last summer, while Tweedy being fired from the cannon… well, it was a real blast. Bibi and Bichu's star turn with the LED light-changing clubs took us back to our first encounter with Gandini Juggling in a tent at Camp Bestival last year (see Chapter 29 - click here). I especially loved the gravitational pull of the sequence where Bibi and Bichu, suspended by invisible harnesses in the dark, juggle clubs whose trajectory is interspersed with ultra-violet puppet pins on wires, weaving their way in and out in slow motion.  




Our 7 year old daughter was captivated by the four Abyssinian acrobat girls, who sprang from behind the shadows cast on a screen that at one point suggested a multi-limbed Hindu deity. The whole 12-strong Ethiopian troupe was certainly divine, and their banquine and flipping finale at the end was breath-taking. We were also spellbound by the gracefully supine Kata Kliss, seamlessly threading her way through the hula-hoops, pirouetting on her hands, and then, caught like a mermaid in a net, transformed into an aerial siren in a later act.  Our youngest fell head over heels for the pair of Moon Dogs bolting round the ring, and their immaculately choreographed mischief. I found watching the horses rather poignant. So sleek, well-groomed and loved. It reminded of my Polish brother-in-law's story of his grandfather in the cavalry who taught his white stallion to bow to the pretty young school-teacher he was courting. And, reader, she married him.  As for the bear-back riding act, the kids wanted to believe it was a real bear, and in that circus space they were free to do so.  At the end, the children are invited to join the performers in the ring as they dance and gradually the whole audience filters in. As the performers made their exit our 7 year old looked longingly after them and whispered "I wish I could go with them behind that curtain".  Our youngest grabbed my hand and danced with me for dear life.  Lost in the moment. We all were.  

As we left the tent some of the performers were outside saying goodbye. Our joke-telling, Yoda-impersonating clown of a son was over the moon to be high-fived by Tweedy, while our 7 year old was thrilled when she shyly caught the eye of the Ethiopian girls in the distance and they gave her huge smiles and a wave back. Our little one meanwhile legged it back to the stables in search of animals friends to whom to whisper.  At the end of the day, there was a tangible feel of circus family celebrating family life that was incredibly welcoming and made the heart soar. And that there is the magic of circus. Thank you.

"My soul is in the sky"
(Shakespeare: Midsummer Night's Dream)

NOTES: 

Giffords Circus is on tour all summer. See www.giffordscircus.com (click here) for listings of venues and dates.

If, like my daughter, the experience inspires you to go behind the scenes, Nell Gifford has written about the early days as Nell Stroud in "Josser: The Life of a Circus Girl" and more recently the most beautiful accompaniment to the circus  "Giffords: The First Ten Years", complete with translucent dust-jacket with gold-embossed lettering. 

And an old favourite in our house from the 1930s - so Giffords! - is Noel Streatfeild's "Circus Shoes" (originally "The Circus is Coming") about a pair of orphaned siblings who run away to their uncle in the circus and discover all the hard graft and love involved. Streatfeild herself tented with a circus for a couple of seasons. 

All the photos from the evening are in Giffords album on my "Lucy Loves Circus"  Facebook Page.

Chapter 79: Geek Love

“There are the those whose own vulgar normality is so apparent and stultifying that they strive to escape it. They affect flamboyant behaviour and claim originality according to the fashionable eccentricities of their time. They claim brains or talent or indifference to mores in desperate attempts to deny their own mediocrity.” 

Katherine Dunn, Geek Love

*Cringe*. I'm re-reading a classic this week, Katherine Dunn's Geek Love. The title "geek", back in the 80s, (Dunn writes in the revised introduction) like now "carried overtones of arcane obsession, but it also reeked of acne, wretched hygiene, and unsavoury personal habits. Over subsequent decades the usage has shifted and evolved. But the book uses the original, much older meaning. A real geek was a circus or carnival performer, presented as feral or psychotic, who bit the heads off live chickens." 



I once went to a cock fight, while staying with a flamencophile friend, her lover and his family in a gypsy enclave on the outskirts of Valencia. Barely 20 then, I can still picture the scrawny, bedraggled birds running round in circles in the pit, often losing their head. It was an alien experience, both absorbing and recoiling at the crowd's bloodlust to the point where it felt like I was slipping out of my body and hovering ahead, detached. Trauma? Or maybe my own initiation into the grotesque carnival of life. 

And so in the book we enter a world where glamorous, aristo-geek  "Crystal Lil", of the exquisite chicken choppers, hits on the idea of boggling vast quantities of drugs to sire a bona fide freak show: a power-hungry waterbaby, sultry siamese twins, a telekinetic prodigy and the narrator, a bald, albino hunchback dwarf called Olympia. Through her, Dunn's words slip like a dagger into my lectoral vertebrae, and then it's twisted. It's both cruel and unsentimental, while being raw, romantic and deeply human.

However this week I have less time for reading than I banked on and barely progress half a dozen pages. Half-term with the kids on the South Coast has passed in a whirl, spending time on the beach juggling boules (pictured), whittling Big Tops out of sand (well, with a little imagination that's what they could pass for!), catching up with friends and family, and reading bedtime stories without curfews. But the thought of my bedside (table) companion keeps ticking over. As do the words.  Geek love. Geeks and circus. Circus Geeks. Actually I saw Circus Geeks for the new millennium in action with their show Beta Testing at Jacksons Lane recently, again part of Canvas 2015 (see Chapter 75- click here). What did I know about them beforehand? That these guys, Arron Sparks, Jon Udry and Matt Pang, are self-styled circus nerds whose show took seed from a blog, a series of posts exploring the juggling continuum, and that they are superb technicians. 

For me the term "geek" has always denoted a dogged passion that is ahead of its time. It connotes a curious mind, a certain scientific detachment in the research of an obsession or quirk. Well that's the type I gravitated towards at university anyway... And I have a soft spot for jugglers too, dating back to membership of the varsity juggling society (not that you'd know from my skill-set). I feel that while the raison d'être of ethereal aerialists soaring above is to be looked at and admired, jugglers have to work from the ground up, connecting and drawing their audience in, often through comedy and (street) theatre. So juggling geeks were always going to get my vote. 

From left: Jon Udry, Matt Pang and Arron Sparks
Source: www.getwestlondon.co.uk

The show is a TED-style talk - the audience is acknowledged and addressed, and information is deliver with the dry humour of  a Hitchhiker's Guide to juggling. We are briefed on the juggling lexicon, talked through tricks and given insight into what goes into being  a professional performer. We laugh. When we have enough breath. Each of the performers plays a set role:  Arron Sparks is the super-smart super-geek, Jon Udry is  there to needle him in a spot of one upmanship and haddock bashing, and Matt Pang plays a role akin to an exhibitionist younger sibling (says the youngest of six), quietly getting on with it and when the other two are preoccupied, grabbing his moment centre-stage with a knowing wink. I was so taken by the show that to find each of them pitching their own solo show later at Canvas was heart-breaking - it felt like a boy-band break-up, a betrayal of the bromance dynamic they had so convincingly portrayed. Maybe I had identified them as - or willed them to be - graduate buddies, like mine of old.  Luckily, as Matt Pang later patiently explained to me,  it turns out they've been working on their own stuff for years and that this is the first show that has brought them together like this. You'd never know. 

So catch Beta Testing and keep an eye out for their future productions:

Arron Sparks who with his small-scale and intimate "Down-Up" is as much a moving story-teller as a legend with a yoyo. 

Jon Udry "Punches Gravity in the Face" with a witty meditation on the nature of juggling, a beautiful balloon sequence and is a stellar turn with a teabag.  Showing as part of  the Postcards Festival on 16th July at Jacksons Lane - click here. 

And Matt Pang with his PanGottic company hat on, innovatively miming to a pre-recorded pitch for the show "Fluke" showcased remote-controlled contraptions that would not be out of place in an inventor's windmill, and kept me on the edge of my seat throughout.

Circus Geeks show Beta Testing is on at Udderbelly on the Southbank until 21 June - book here:  www.southbank.co.uk

Post-script: 
In the past few days Twitter has been on fire in response to Douglas McPherson, circus groupie and author of Circus Mania, condemning the funding of all performance arts from the public purse in his blog post for The Telegraph: A critic's plea: stop all arts funding now

Check out these two sound responses:
Kate Kavanagh @BustingFree: Come one, come all?
Dorothy Max Prior via @TotalTheatreMag: The funding question: oops, what a palaver

Chapter 76: Extraordinary Bodies' WEIGHTING

Karina Jones & Jamie Beddard
watching young twins Kika Green & Anna Welch 

There are days when nature seems to mock in metaphors. I woke up yesterday with an election hangover to grey skies and an overcast world. On the way back from the school run, the day before, the CD of Barnum was playing in the car at my three year old's request, and as we pulled up to the polling station we were chanting "taxes have to be increased, to give to those who have the least" - well, that's my kind of humbug, and we were on a roll. Turns out the majority weren't buying it though. So, where do we go from here?

Well, I'm going to start by recommending that everyone go and see Weighting, by Extraordinary Bodies.  The show had come onto my radar after recognising a familiar face (Circumference's Aislinn Mulligan) on a poster a few weeks ago, then hearing more at a pitch at Canvas (see previous post), where a chance conversation there with Nick White, the participation manager, led me to the preview yesterday (Friday). Extraordinary Bodies is a professional circus company, the partnership of Cirque Bijou and Diverse City, that integrates disabled and non-disabled performers, dances and actors, and in the process becomes one body of a company, dissolving separations - as Billy Alwen, the artistic director of Cirque Bijou, said afterwards, "I think in terms of the abilities and not the disabilities". Extraordinary Bodies won £100,000 from the Clore Duffield Foundation for the development of this project that is an uplifting vision bringing a diverse community together in harmony. 

Aishlin Mulligan, Karina Jones & Deb Roach

The show itself is a moving family story about a father, Blake (Jamie Beddard) doing his best to protect his wife Ella (Karina Jones) and daughters, the twins Dora & Myla (Aislinn Mulligan & Deb Roach) from the world outside, learning gradually to let go and take the plunge himself. The action pivots on a central suspended contraption that can act as a staircase, steps leading to new adventures, a crossing place bridging worlds and a tipping point from where to leap to new horizons. As well as the circus performers, actors and dancers, there is a terrific musical score by Dom Coyote, a superb live band (complete with hula-hooping harp player Helen Orford, as I texted my Dulwich-based harp teacher!) and a local community choir under the direction of choirmaster Colin Rea, whose sublime grand finale of "Moments and Memories" is still going round in my head. 

Tom Ball

Among the audience it was great to recognise a few familiar faces from Canvas, including Kate White and Daisy Drury from the National Centre for Circus Arts (formerly Circus Space) which has been supporting the show in the provision of a developmental working space, and Circus Space graduates are involved in the performance as well. Guttingly, though, we only saw the first and last five minutes of the show as rain interrupted play. John Kelly, main vocals and electronic percussion, chivvied people along and kept us all laughing - "blame the Tories!" - and entertained while tarpaulins were hauled out, then pushed back again, temporary shelters erected and umbrellas unfurled, but my heart went out to the disappointment of the choirs of children from two local schools due to be joining in the grand finale who had to go home without performing. For my part, I was glad to have even a glimpse of the magnitude and beauty of this project. The innovative use of the bridge/steps has to be seen to be believed, and the tricks pulled on it at the end by Tom Ball were heart-stopping. A word probably overused in circus critiques, but otherwise I'm speechless. 

Panel Discussion

It was invaluable to have access to the panel discussion as well, comprising (from left to right) the Southbank's Jude Kelly, David Ellington (performer), Claire Hodgson (Artistic Director of Extraordinary Bodies and Chief Executive of Diverse City), Jenny Sealey (from Greae Theatre Company, which provides an exciting platform for world class disabled artists), Karina Jones (performer), and Jamie Beddard (performer). Together the panellists explored the value of diversity. What place does the arts have in society and education? The key word here is Empathy. As Jude Kelly pointed out, all too often in the arts, cultural production  has traditionally both reflected and been blinded by the vision of the white middle-class able-bodied male, which while it is a valid point of view, is not the universal point of view, so when it takes centre stage as it has done, it is to the detriment of multiple experiences and marginalises diverse narratives that need to be heard in order for us to have a connected, functioning society. "You can't understand the world you live in unless you've been listening to the stories of many people, stories that aren't your own." 

So I felt deeply Jamie's disillusionment as he talked of the "profoundly depressing" state of affairs for people with disabilities, that despite the inroads made in the wake of the high profiled Paralympics Games those there today, involved in this project, were the lucky ones, but "the voiceless millions, well it breaks my heart". I listened keenly to the challenges faced within the deaf community, signalled by David who also runs a production and film company, that leave a wealth of hidden skills untapped and ignored. To Jenny's wake-up call for a Revolution that starts here. To Claire on the impact of the  cuts to the Access to Works scheme (click here for further information in The Independent's article). To Karina, visually impaired, asking with a wry smile how many other companies would be up for employing a blind aerialist. The re-election of a governing body responsible for existing and now further projected cuts, both in arts funding and support for people with disabilities, means that now more than ever, voices clamouring for minority rights need to be heard. And, crucially, you don't need to belong to that minority in order to stand up for it. That should be bleeding obvious, but sadly it often isn't and it is worth repeating.  

Cast with musical director, singing, Dom Coyote

That Weighting is happening now, then, is fantastic in terms of increasing visibility and bringing diversity into part of our everyday landscape in an extraordinary way, through the medium of music, circus and performance. The grand finale to the piece where the 180-strong chorus sings of "Moments and Memories" becomes a celebration of our connection as a community of otherhood. It is a moment to hold onto, and time to shout out, albeit in harmony, with one voice that speaks to every body of  diversity. 

Weighting is on this weekend in Dulwich Park - today (Saturday, 9 May) 2pm and 7pm, and tomorrow (Sunday, 10 May) 2pm, with follow up workshops in Southwark next weekend, and will be at four more locations round the country.

Weighting comes under "Plays", one of three programmes of work looking to highlight the value of diversity in the arts, and encourage social engagement. The other two being "Sings" the creation of a mass local community choir, and "Leads" which appoints two cultural leaders to promote integrated practice both within their local community and as part of a community of advocates on a national scale. As this event is taking place in five different locations there is an element of handing over the baton of knowledge and experience to each site specific local community. 

Chapter 75: Canvas 2015 - An Introduction

Canvas 2015 kicks off at Jacksons Lane

If you are on any form of social media with me, I’m sure you will have registered my excitement about Canvas 2015. But what, where, why exactly?

Canvas is a visionary showcase of the best and brightest in contemporary circus - we’re talking about encountering around 80 shows in three days, with the opportunity to see three full length productions and cabaret at the end, a number of excerpts from tour-ready shows and presentations of works in progress. Such an undertaking has only happened once before in 2013, then under the banner of Circus Now, the name change since underscoring the philosophy of bringing a broad umbrella of work into a central circus space.

Canvas took place in a variety of venues that comprise the City Circ network supporting the development of circus arts: Jacksons Lane, The Roundhouse, the Arts Depot , the National Centre for Circus Arts and The Albany (click on the names to access their sites). Essentially Canvas is a marketplace for buyers and sellers, but thanks to the organisation of Flora Herberich, supported by François Bourdil and team, Canvas had the familar, relaxed feel of a festival - a space to share, connect, spark and engage.

Why on earth was I there? I had been aware Canvas was happening for a while, but with the marketing directed at potential investors - that is to say producers and programmers - with the best will in the world it was not a place for amateur bloggers, up there with gossip columnists in general perception (I assumed). 

So when Flora, who I’ve met at various events over the past six months, emailed me to see if I would be interested in coming along, I was both very touched and thrilled at the opportunity. I also questioned how I could, to use old accountancy buzz-speak, add value and justify my presence there. After all, this blog started out as a letter to a friend and an experiment to document the journey of a mature(?!) student starting out at circus school and to see how far I could get, as much in writing as along a rope. Then I brought shows into the equation, but still in the context of my own personal (Miss)adventure. So this blog, more than a series of circus snapshots, is rather a column of selfies with words. Shudder. For all that, though, I am in a position to see a fair amount of circus, meet people and bear witness to the exciting times in which we are living. The contemporary circus culture has been gaining momentum over the past couple of decades, for sure, but it really feels that there has been a dramatic explosion in the past couple of years.

While this may often slip under the radar of the broadsheets and general press, on-line there are bona fide specialist reviewers who have been charting this development for a number of years and are developing a specific lexicon for reviewing circus. The ones at Canvas were Kate Kavanagh, who writes The Circus Diaries: A Critical Exploration of the Circus World, John Ellingsworth who set up and runs Sideshow the go-to online circus periodical, and Tessa Overbeek from the Dutch website circuspunt. If you are in the world of circus you will already know them well, but if not check them out.

Meanwhile this is my starter for ten. Over the next week I will be offering up my thoughts and feedback on this incredible opportunity to put a finger on the circus pulse, see cutting edge work and ideas in development, chat to fascinating people and the unexpected turns that followed. 


See Canvas website  www.canvas-london.org, designed and run by John Ellingsworth. 
On Twitter, check out the latest from Kate Kavanagh @bustingfree and #Canvas2015. 

Chapter 74: Circolombia at The Roundhouse

No se me importa un pito que las mujeres

tengan los senos como magnolias o como pasas de higo;

un cutis de durazno o de papel de lija.

Le doy una importancia igual a cero,

al hecho de que amanezcan con un aliento afrodisíaco

o con un aliento insecticida.

Soy perfectamente capaz de soportarles

una nariz que sacaría el primer premio

en una exposición de zanahorias;

¡pero eso sí! -y en esto soy irreductible

- no les perdono, bajo ningún pretexto, que no sepan volar.

from Espantapájaros (Scarecrow) by Oliverio Girondo 

for poem in full, and translation, click here

or see my interpretation at the end

 Espantapúblico: Circolombia's Julia Sanchez Aja 

Lianna - check out her website: www.liannamusic.com

When I was about 12 I fell in love with Spanish. Or maybe it was the Spanish teacher at our little convent school. The formidably fierce, elegant, young Mercedes held us in thrall decked out in her modern Mediterranean colours (all taupes, olive greens, russet browns) in contrast to the old-fashioned black and starched white habits of our Irish sisters. And more exotic still, Mercedes had a boyfriend. Suffice to say the spark that she ignited has since become an all-consuming blazing fire. I love speaking Spanish. It gives me a freedom to communicate a passion, warmth, joy and enthusiasm that in English may get  written off as "excitable". For me, Spanish is more than a language, it is a state of mind, just like circus. A space that challenges constraints and crosses boundaries.  So what a treat when the two worlds collide, when they fuse and I short-circuit, as with  Circolombia and their show Aceleré, which gets the heart of circus pumping, and the audience pulsating, to an urban latino beat. And on Friday night I went along with over a dozen friends for the ride. The friends were all from different areas of my life (sounds familiar? See Chapter 1: A Circus Experience), and while some may have crossed paths before, in the main they didn't know each other. Still, they all share that curiosity and openness to otherness and new experiences that makes them great company. 

I felt a bit like the Pied Piper actually. As I travelled up with a girlfriend on the Northern Line, one friend got into our carriage, then her partner at the next stop, and so on. By the time we got out at Chalk Farm most of us had been united, and introductions were made over heads in the lift on the way up to the general a(be)musement of the rest of the occupants. We hit The Roundhouse buzzing, connected, and ready for more.

Soledad Gomez Acevedo & Oscar MauricioRojas Guasca on straps

The performance that followed was one of extraordinary strength, agility, courage, playfulness, power and poetry. All the world-class performers in Circolombia are graduates of the National School "Circo Para Todos" which provides support through professional circus training to young people at risk, founded by Brit, Felicity Simpson, building bridges. Watching the Circolombia guys backflip from a hand-to-hand handstand onto a pair of hands behind or somersault from swings onto a platform of hands, left me not speechless, but rather drained of expletives. I don't normally swear in English but the words jerked out of me at every climax. Each time there was a sense that the performers were continually responding and assessing whether they could go that little bit further today. And then go for it, or on occasion maybe not. Absolute trust and breath-taking risk. Fundamental cornerstones to each trick. And that gave the show its raw edge that made it both terrifying and exhilarating to watch.  As well as astonishing acrobatics from teeterboard, swing and from each other, there was an extraordinarily sensual duet on straps, a cloud swinger whose aerial state defines her identity and a sequence where butanes of gas, with lights on the base became suspended aerial supports round which four performers whirled with a graceful luminosity. Ironic really, as the energy the evening generated was so high-octane it lit up the Roundhouse and spilled onto the streets.

John Rodriguez

Afterwards some of the performers stayed behind to sell CDs of Ryan Willmott's superb musical score, have pictures taken with their adoring (excitable!) fans - what's the Spanish for groupie anyone? not acosadora, por Dios! - and generally chat. Talk about stamina. They revealed themselves to be utter sweethearts whose gentle, easygoing nature explained the relaxed insouciance that was part of their on-stage charm. The English me still cringes at the thought of introducing myself to these young guys and handing over my cards, but in Spanish I'm a shameless sinvergüenza which overrided any embarrassment,  and afterwards we decamped to the bar where the caipirinhas did the rest. So here's to old souls and new memories. 

Cheers Circolombia! Salud! Aché!

CAST:
Juan Eugenio Bonilla Landazuri, Gustavo Adolfo Quinones Castro, Jhon Edward Angulo Ibarguen, Jhon Gerlin Rodriguez Riascos, Daniel Muñoz, Juan Manuel Navarro Rubiano, Juan Camilo Gaitan López, Soledad Gomez Acevedo, Oscar Mauricio Rojas Guasca, Julia Sánchez Aja, Lianna, Diana Vargas.

Standing ovation all round

My Interpretation of Oliverio Girondo's Scarecrow:

I don't give a toss whether women have breasts soft as magnolias or wrinkled as prunes;

a skin soft as peaches or scratchy as a filing board.

I am completely indifferent 

as to whether their morning breath is an aphrodisiac

or tastes  of insecticide,

I am can perfectly well put up with 

a nose that would win first prize in

a carrot competition

but know one thing, and on this point I am resolute:

- I don't excuse, under any pretext, that they not know how to fly. 

Chapter 70: Airealism: Circus That Takes Us Down the Rabbit Hole...

It's a funny old world, I think sometimes, curiouser and curiouser. Chance conversations and meetings converge, and give life its own quirky rhythm. I had been admiring Fiona's ariel boots in class, and it turns out that another Circus Space student, Isabella Mars, had made them. I remember going on Isabella's website - see www.isabellamars.com - and falling in love with the colours, designs, and the glamour. There was something otherworldly about the leather and the laces, maybe all that reading of Lucy Ribchester's "The Hourglass Factory" (see Chapter 68) had encouraged the fantasy of being a suffragette trapeze artiste, the archetypal circus strongwoman. So I met up with Isabella in the foyer of Circus Space, where she brought swatches of leathers and suede and measured me up (my feet, rather than skillset!).  A couple of weeks later they were ready, and they are a work of sheer beauty. Soft black leather with suede where grip is needed, and dark silver tongues. I am in awe and, determined to live up to them, they are my talisman. I managed my first ankle hang in them only last week. As we were chatting it turned out that Isabella was part of Airealism. This is the circus collective comprising some 20-strong (make that super-strong) amateurs, in the most fundamental sense. That is to say they hold down day jobs and train on the side for the love of it. And, 150 years on from Lewis Carroll, they were bringing Alice in Wonderland circus-style to the Vault Festival, taking the audience Down the Rabbit Hole.

As I descended down the stairs into this warren under Waterloo, hand-in-hand with my six year old daughter for the Saturday matinée, there was a frisson of excitement. I love the space in the Vault tunnels, the dank underworld of adventure it promises. As we lined up outside "The Pit", it was a joy to bump into Malcolm from my static class and Edel and Chris from Flying Fantastic. Name badges were handed out  - familiar, yet different, we were all Alice! - and then ushered into a departure lounge of an airport. Announcements were made over the tannoy and the stewardesses gave safety instructions as we prepared to take off into Wonderland.  As the lights went out my daughter tugged at my hand for security. The black curtain that had sectioned off half the space fell away to reveal a stage set for tea-time, where it is always six o' clock, and a central runway - less for airplanes, more a space to lead the characters up the garden path.  

It was brilliantly executed. The Mad Hatter, Dormouse and March Hare provided the entertainment (and the Foxes Glacier Mints!) to cover the transitions between acts, charismatic raconteurs engaging the audience, while the skill of the circus acts themselves was creatively captivating. The caterpillar - well, more of a silks worm! - morphing into the bread-and-butterfly and swooping down in the drops left us goggled eyed, the sultry flamingo on silks smouldered, the Cheshire Cat was a fluroescence of feline grace on the lyra, the frog courtier had echoes of Frederick Ashton's Jeremy Fisher on trapeze, the imperiously silent Duchess span round at dizzying speed, the pages to the Queen of Heart's stunned as a duo on static trapeze, and the Queen of Hearts made her regal entrance and hopped on the hoop. I left thinking how Circus complements Wonderland. Both connote a transformative space where the impossible is possible. If only you believe. And with practice, I now myself believe as many as six impossible things before breakfast, while these guys show where you get to by tea ...

Chapter 69: Company New World's "Globally Wanted"

“A theatre is the most important sort of house in the world, because that's where people are shown what they could be if they wanted, and what they'd like to be if they dared to and what they really are.” 

 - Tove Jansson

Billed as "sex, love and violence in black, pink and turquoise" Finnish Company New World (Circus Uusi Mailma) brought their astonishing show Globally Wanted to Jacksons Lane recently. Five fragile creatures in an iron acro-cube exploring boundaries of emotional and physical resilience.  "A black burlesque belch" one Finnish critic observed, picking up on the elements of dark and grotesque comedy. Think Clockwork Orange meets (Visi)Goth Vamp and you get the gist.

As I wandered into the intimate space of the Jacksons Lane auditorium, eyes adjusting to the lighting, I registered the cube structure first, and only after a few moments noticed the performers on top, and gazing fixedly out from the shadows. It caught me unawares. Destabilising. And that's the show - an off-kilter balancing act. I loved the use of the acro-cube, a mass of edges that functioned as Chinese poles and monkey bars that the performers fly around. Delineating space but not limiting it, a construction of borders repeatedly crossed.  There was, for instance, an ingenious use of parkour movements to scale the walls and access doors and fire exits beyond. 

One of the performers, pictured above in pink, moves in bi-mechanical fashion (the only way I can think to describe a cross-dressing manbot) and then turns into a wicked drummer, raising the energy levels through the roof.  Pairings and triangles criss-cross with a look, a longing, a tease of a kiss and then are ripped apart with a slap, limbs becoming bandaged, bodies wrapped around poles or strapped into wheelchairs. It's not pretty. And that's the point. As if to say what doesn't kill you really does make you stronger, the injuries and their supports become a springboard for new tricks. A crutch is unscrewed and fixed into the base of a trapeze swing, the wheel chair swings round the pole, gaining momentum and becomes a fundamental spoke in the circus apparatus.  There are breath-taking moments of physical brilliance, the whole raison d'être of any circus performance, combined with an absurd take on representing the dynamics of relationships in all their cruelty that was very funny. We laughed, we whooped, we shifted in our seats uncomfortably. Globally Wanted now translates into Globally Appreciated. And I'm sure they'll be back ... in some shape or form.

Love hurts. Circus hurts. Embrace it.