Here are the E&M presentations from last week. The first is my group's non-continuous routine, for the class assignment described on the video page:
The second is a routine we put together to perform at the Leeds Juggling Convention last Saturday. It didn't run nearly as smoothly there, but seemed to get a good response from the audience. The goal was to combine acrobalance with club passing and manipulation, and for the most part this worked out. Rehearsals were before class started (so, 8-8:45 AM) every day and during lunch breaks, but it was well worth it:
Oh, and we called our group "The Thieving Magpies."
Then at 2AM that night we performed with Slamboree again, at the Beavertown night club, but this time it was on a slippery stage with barely enough space to stand, let alone juggle. I did base some acro on the floor in front of the stage. I'm considering burning those clothes after they were pressed into that floor...
Sadly, these are the last presentations I will have at Circomedia. I will post soon about the Christmas Show, and try to get some of the videos of it.
Wednesday, 12 December 2012
Saturday, 1 December 2012
Three shows in two nights, two out of three.
[side note: Half-term break and preparing for the physics GRE delayed editing and publishing on this, hence its lateness]
The week of Halloween, I got my first sample of physical theatre in three shows at St. Paul's church, Circomedia's space for performances and other classes. Halloween night was a double-feature of Tom Wainwright's Buttercup and Superbolt Theatre's Centralia, and the following night was Articulate Elbow's Mother F. It seems the term physical theatre fits anything that is driven more by movement than by speech. It is a crossover between dance and theatre, breaking down the traditional script/character/prop, and is flexible enough to include Commedia dell'Arte, mime, slapstick, clowning, performance art, burlesque, grotesque, and improv. Pieces, such as the ones discussed here, tend to be devised rather than scripted, and often play with the relations of performers to characters, audience, set, space, and props in ways not generally used in drama.
Buttercup
Buttercup was about a forty-minute long one-man show, comprising two monologues with an audience interaction in the middle. Tom takes the role of Buttercup, an overweight woman of less-than-average intelligence or morals, distinguished by a habit of stamping her foot and waving a hand behind her rear, suggesting a cow. Buttercup is a disgusting, dystopic vision of a person in total decline yet content. She never brushes her teeth with the logic that "nobody will ever kiss me anyway," and spends all her time eating junk and watching television reality shows.
Each character was defined by an object, animal or some other caricature, sometimes even casually referring to themselves as such. Two judges on a cooking show were a potato and a fish, for example. At times they referred to themselves as such. A star from "The Only Way is Essex" took on a kind of Popeye physicality, contrasting with his timid and wide-eyed partner. This technique allowed Tom to define mannerisms unique to each character while implying more about their character than the lines could deliver. The Popeye character, for instance, was playing excessively macho in order to compensate his affections toward his male friend.
Most of the local pop culture references were over my head, but I enjoyed it no less. The first story was of Buttercup taking part in Jamie Oliver's experiment of teaching people to make spaghetti and meatballs, so as to motivate them towards healthier eating. She becomes so good at cooking over time that she opens her own restaurant, and then competes on an 'iron chef'-like program called Masterchef. She also discovered that she was pregnant at the time, by noting that she grew "bigger and bigger" until she had "to take a poo, and out came baby!" In a surreal and grotesque twist, Buttercup cooks her stillborn child as her dish in the competition,to the judges' approval and her triumph.
This first monologue bit was smoothly followed by a bit of audience interaction, in character, in which the audience was invited to ask questions about her life or for personal advice or about global matters. The first question, of course, was if Tom thought there was anything wrong with cooking infants. I don't remember the response. Another asked who would win the American election, which Tom confidently answered would be Eddie Murphy.
The second half's story followed along the first's, and was of another of Buttercup's forays into television. This time, after her restaurant burns down and she moves in with other family, she's asked to take part in a version of "The Only Way is Essex" for her own town (Lancashire), a show which I understand to be a bit like the Jersey Shore. The storyline becomes a bit more realistic, but no less funny than the first, with Buttercup falling in love with one of the other stars only to have him taken away by his jealous co-star, an overly-macho man who's secretly in love with him.
The show was an unique experience of theatre. In my experience, narrative monologues are some of the most difficult to deliver, since they don't give an immediate scenario for the actor to be in. The usual approach to telling them is to tell the story while living in it – to ignore the fact you're telling a story and act as though you're living it. The audience interaction of this show, from asking to borrow lipstick at the beginning to the bit in the middle, served to break this illusion and make it clear that when Buttercup was speaking, she was actually telling the story to us. The show was her telling this story, and
Mother F
Mother F defines itself as a "raucous and touching tale about mothers, told through physical theatre, ridiculous choreography, ghostly projections and hilarious songs.." Unfortunately, about the best I can of Mother F is that it at least seemed like the performers involved were enjoying themselves. The style of humor was cheesy and weak, seeming to scream "hey, look! We're entertaining you!" with an ill-defined storyline broken up by painfully bad standup bits. The performers took the roles of two sisters rummaging through their mother's old things in the attic, and each object conjured up a memory. The use of props to create flashbacks is a solid technique that was effectively done, if a bit unclear in revealing the family's background. It was clear that the mother had at one point been a burlesque dancer, and that the older sister had left for New York after college, and that the younger sister was pregnant as a teenager, but these points were more factual than real. The scene of the sisters talking about the pregnancy and departure was touching, but otherwise I had no sympathy for the characters. The backgrounds were presented out of order, and there was no progression of experiences that could bring any kind of bond between the sisters and their mother.
I skipped the talkback session, but am told that the performers explained their style as drawing from vaudeville and cabaret, styles of disjoint and blatant humor that was certainly present in this show. Perhaps this would have done better with a different theme – not motherhood and mothers, a subject most audiences will have strong feelings about. Mothers were cheekily presented as, maybe, they may feel sometimes – machines that tidy toys and change diapers – but with no deeper sense of the profound relation between mothers and their children. In addition, the show often dismissed fathers in the hackneyed 'dopey hubby' stereotype, with no real role in their childrens' lives. "Mommy takes care of me, but Daddy is so funny!" As someone raised with two brothers by a widowed father, I took some offense to this.
Overall, if the cast had taken less time to try to make the audience laugh and more time giving them something to connect with, Mother F could have been a light-hearted take on the role mothers have in our lives. Though there were some heartfelt moments, these were swiftly drowned by shtick.
Centralia
Unlike with Buttercup or Mother F, the three remain the same characters throughout the show while recreating different scenes of their home life and telling the story of the Centralia mine fire. They discuss their daily ritual of taking gas measurements and soil samples, and how they transport them around town by balloons and ziplines. They tell the almost-tragic story of a boy who was nearly killed by falling in a chasm, and survived because his shoes protected his feet, which prompts a quick dance number on the importance of protective footwear.
While most of the show was an ironically lighthearted comedy about a tragic story, there was a nervousness to the characters that flickered up now and then, like they were held at gunpoint and told to be happy. It seemed that the characters were a little too eager to prove how much they loved living in Centralia, despite its emptiness and dangers, because admitting a single fault would crack their illusion of how wonderful a place it is. The ending of the show did just that. When one character tells the audience that he's requesting a work permit and visa to come live in Bristol, the realness of the show breaks down. The three start moving in a slow motion struggle, with lights darkened or flashing, miming melodramatic interactions. The abstract bit builds to a peak, when a papier-mâché balloon flies across the stage on fishing line, illuminated by a single flashlight, as recordings of former Centralia residents play. The finish is beautifully dark and abstract, a final acknowledgement that the source of their comedy has been a tragedy.
As a final note: the American accents were pretty good. It took some time for me to catch that they weren't American actors, though they clearly weren't from Pennsylvania – the men sounded more midwestern, and the woman sounded Jewish New Yorker.
The week of Halloween, I got my first sample of physical theatre in three shows at St. Paul's church, Circomedia's space for performances and other classes. Halloween night was a double-feature of Tom Wainwright's Buttercup and Superbolt Theatre's Centralia, and the following night was Articulate Elbow's Mother F. It seems the term physical theatre fits anything that is driven more by movement than by speech. It is a crossover between dance and theatre, breaking down the traditional script/character/prop, and is flexible enough to include Commedia dell'Arte, mime, slapstick, clowning, performance art, burlesque, grotesque, and improv. Pieces, such as the ones discussed here, tend to be devised rather than scripted, and often play with the relations of performers to characters, audience, set, space, and props in ways not generally used in drama.
Buttercup
 |
| Image courtesy of Total Theatre Reviews |
Buttercup was about a forty-minute long one-man show, comprising two monologues with an audience interaction in the middle. Tom takes the role of Buttercup, an overweight woman of less-than-average intelligence or morals, distinguished by a habit of stamping her foot and waving a hand behind her rear, suggesting a cow. Buttercup is a disgusting, dystopic vision of a person in total decline yet content. She never brushes her teeth with the logic that "nobody will ever kiss me anyway," and spends all her time eating junk and watching television reality shows.
Each character was defined by an object, animal or some other caricature, sometimes even casually referring to themselves as such. Two judges on a cooking show were a potato and a fish, for example. At times they referred to themselves as such. A star from "The Only Way is Essex" took on a kind of Popeye physicality, contrasting with his timid and wide-eyed partner. This technique allowed Tom to define mannerisms unique to each character while implying more about their character than the lines could deliver. The Popeye character, for instance, was playing excessively macho in order to compensate his affections toward his male friend.
Most of the local pop culture references were over my head, but I enjoyed it no less. The first story was of Buttercup taking part in Jamie Oliver's experiment of teaching people to make spaghetti and meatballs, so as to motivate them towards healthier eating. She becomes so good at cooking over time that she opens her own restaurant, and then competes on an 'iron chef'-like program called Masterchef. She also discovered that she was pregnant at the time, by noting that she grew "bigger and bigger" until she had "to take a poo, and out came baby!" In a surreal and grotesque twist, Buttercup cooks her stillborn child as her dish in the competition,to the judges' approval and her triumph.
This first monologue bit was smoothly followed by a bit of audience interaction, in character, in which the audience was invited to ask questions about her life or for personal advice or about global matters. The first question, of course, was if Tom thought there was anything wrong with cooking infants. I don't remember the response. Another asked who would win the American election, which Tom confidently answered would be Eddie Murphy.
The second half's story followed along the first's, and was of another of Buttercup's forays into television. This time, after her restaurant burns down and she moves in with other family, she's asked to take part in a version of "The Only Way is Essex" for her own town (Lancashire), a show which I understand to be a bit like the Jersey Shore. The storyline becomes a bit more realistic, but no less funny than the first, with Buttercup falling in love with one of the other stars only to have him taken away by his jealous co-star, an overly-macho man who's secretly in love with him.
The show was an unique experience of theatre. In my experience, narrative monologues are some of the most difficult to deliver, since they don't give an immediate scenario for the actor to be in. The usual approach to telling them is to tell the story while living in it – to ignore the fact you're telling a story and act as though you're living it. The audience interaction of this show, from asking to borrow lipstick at the beginning to the bit in the middle, served to break this illusion and make it clear that when Buttercup was speaking, she was actually telling the story to us. The show was her telling this story, and
- For a review, check out Total Theatre Review.
Mother F
 |
| Image courtesy of The Royal Exchange. |
Mother F defines itself as a "raucous and touching tale about mothers, told through physical theatre, ridiculous choreography, ghostly projections and hilarious songs.." Unfortunately, about the best I can of Mother F is that it at least seemed like the performers involved were enjoying themselves. The style of humor was cheesy and weak, seeming to scream "hey, look! We're entertaining you!" with an ill-defined storyline broken up by painfully bad standup bits. The performers took the roles of two sisters rummaging through their mother's old things in the attic, and each object conjured up a memory. The use of props to create flashbacks is a solid technique that was effectively done, if a bit unclear in revealing the family's background. It was clear that the mother had at one point been a burlesque dancer, and that the older sister had left for New York after college, and that the younger sister was pregnant as a teenager, but these points were more factual than real. The scene of the sisters talking about the pregnancy and departure was touching, but otherwise I had no sympathy for the characters. The backgrounds were presented out of order, and there was no progression of experiences that could bring any kind of bond between the sisters and their mother.
I skipped the talkback session, but am told that the performers explained their style as drawing from vaudeville and cabaret, styles of disjoint and blatant humor that was certainly present in this show. Perhaps this would have done better with a different theme – not motherhood and mothers, a subject most audiences will have strong feelings about. Mothers were cheekily presented as, maybe, they may feel sometimes – machines that tidy toys and change diapers – but with no deeper sense of the profound relation between mothers and their children. In addition, the show often dismissed fathers in the hackneyed 'dopey hubby' stereotype, with no real role in their childrens' lives. "Mommy takes care of me, but Daddy is so funny!" As someone raised with two brothers by a widowed father, I took some offense to this.
Overall, if the cast had taken less time to try to make the audience laugh and more time giving them something to connect with, Mother F could have been a light-hearted take on the role mothers have in our lives. Though there were some heartfelt moments, these were swiftly drowned by shtick.
- A positive review: The Royal Exchange.
Centralia
 |
| Image courtesy of Total Theatre Review |
Unlike with Buttercup or Mother F, the three remain the same characters throughout the show while recreating different scenes of their home life and telling the story of the Centralia mine fire. They discuss their daily ritual of taking gas measurements and soil samples, and how they transport them around town by balloons and ziplines. They tell the almost-tragic story of a boy who was nearly killed by falling in a chasm, and survived because his shoes protected his feet, which prompts a quick dance number on the importance of protective footwear.
While most of the show was an ironically lighthearted comedy about a tragic story, there was a nervousness to the characters that flickered up now and then, like they were held at gunpoint and told to be happy. It seemed that the characters were a little too eager to prove how much they loved living in Centralia, despite its emptiness and dangers, because admitting a single fault would crack their illusion of how wonderful a place it is. The ending of the show did just that. When one character tells the audience that he's requesting a work permit and visa to come live in Bristol, the realness of the show breaks down. The three start moving in a slow motion struggle, with lights darkened or flashing, miming melodramatic interactions. The abstract bit builds to a peak, when a papier-mâché balloon flies across the stage on fishing line, illuminated by a single flashlight, as recordings of former Centralia residents play. The finish is beautifully dark and abstract, a final acknowledgement that the source of their comedy has been a tragedy.
As a final note: the American accents were pretty good. It took some time for me to catch that they weren't American actors, though they clearly weren't from Pennsylvania – the men sounded more midwestern, and the woman sounded Jewish New Yorker.
Wednesday, 14 November 2012
Half-term break
On a two-hour train ride from Paddington to Bristol Temple-Meads with no Internet connection, clearly the thing to do is update the old web-log. This train ride concludes my visit to London for half-term break, to do the standard tourist things with my dad. It has been a relaxing and reparative four days, especially since the London city air ironically seems to have done a great service to my growing cough over the last couple weeks. It is also nice to be see some family again, and not have to cook.
The week began with my journey to Canterbury to retake the Physics GRE. Somehow, I managed to make almost every conceivable mistake in getting there and back, I can only hope that this offsets any stupid mistakes on the exam itself. Three trains – Bristol to Paddington, King's Cross to Ashford International, Ashford to Canterbury West – with a tube ride in the middle and a taxi at the end got me to the hostel nearly an hour later than I meant to be there. I also tried to save 5 pounds or so by finding the hostel on foot, and failed, which introduced further delay. Fortunately, the staff were perfectly welcoming and helpful. I then managed to get lost trying to find the test center the next day, only to find it had been moved to another location, and arrived just in time to find out they had no record of me. It seems my confirmation from ETS that they would "take care of everything on [their] end" was false, and it wasn't until I had shown the less-than-pleasant administrator there my email correspondence with ETS that he would let me sit the test.
Oh, also, I didn't have a chance to get #2 pencils before leaving Bristol, so I had to use souvenir pencils from the Ashford station with union jacks on them. Classy.
After finally completing the exam, I was promptly lost in the beautiful, historic city of Canterbury, in the rain, with no umbrella. A couple hours of wandering later, I found the train station and bought the wrong ticket to get to London, costing me a few extra pounds on board to actually make it. To top it off, I had forgotten the name of my dad's hotel and had to find a way to check my email to look it up again – I managed this only by using a display iPhone at a vodaphone store at Paddington. All was fine when, at last, I made it to my dad's hotel and found him.
Over the week, we visited Bristol (sadly, no one was around to introduce), the London Eye (to my acrophobic father's nervousness), the Churchill War Rooms, the British Museum's Shakespeare exhibit, Covent Garden, and a West End show. The highlight was certainly seeing Twelfth Night at the Apollo theatre, produced by the Globe theatre. We managed to pick up the tickets last-minute from a store across from the British Museum, for a pretty good price. When we got to our seats the actors were finalizing their makeup and costumes on stage, showing how male actors were dressing as the Countess, Viola, etc., as musicians onstage played traditional Victorian instruments – in what I understand to be the first time they'd been used in a show on Shaftsbury Ave in centuries. We were also more than pleasantly surprised to find that Stephen Fry, of whom my dad and I are big fans, was playing Malvolio. He did not disappoint in his cross-gartered yellow stockings.
Though I had hoped to find a physical theatre or contemporary circus show to take my dad, a couple of street performers at Covent Garden at least gave a sense of it. The street performance style, as one of the performers commented, is honest and pure. The routines themselves were incredibly simple, as far as tricks were concerned – one did an escape act from a bunch of chains, another did a slack rope walk while juggling knives – but each filled easily 15 - 20 minutes of time just building up to it. I hope to get a chance to read Bim's book on street performance. It's unfortunate that I won't be around in the spring, when there is a big street performance intensive, culminating in presentations in Bath. It is something I have a little amateur experience with, but there is a science to it – conjuring a crowd and keeping its attention, pushing volunteers' comfort limits, improvising with – that takes experience and practice to learn.
Now, as my train pulls into Temple Meads Station, I can close by saying that it has been an enjoyable break. I've gotten to see some of the sights and some of the performance England is famous for, and much of the countryside from train windows, and the Physics GRE is, at last, behind me. I look forward to resuming training without that worry anymore.
The week began with my journey to Canterbury to retake the Physics GRE. Somehow, I managed to make almost every conceivable mistake in getting there and back, I can only hope that this offsets any stupid mistakes on the exam itself. Three trains – Bristol to Paddington, King's Cross to Ashford International, Ashford to Canterbury West – with a tube ride in the middle and a taxi at the end got me to the hostel nearly an hour later than I meant to be there. I also tried to save 5 pounds or so by finding the hostel on foot, and failed, which introduced further delay. Fortunately, the staff were perfectly welcoming and helpful. I then managed to get lost trying to find the test center the next day, only to find it had been moved to another location, and arrived just in time to find out they had no record of me. It seems my confirmation from ETS that they would "take care of everything on [their] end" was false, and it wasn't until I had shown the less-than-pleasant administrator there my email correspondence with ETS that he would let me sit the test.
Oh, also, I didn't have a chance to get #2 pencils before leaving Bristol, so I had to use souvenir pencils from the Ashford station with union jacks on them. Classy.
After finally completing the exam, I was promptly lost in the beautiful, historic city of Canterbury, in the rain, with no umbrella. A couple hours of wandering later, I found the train station and bought the wrong ticket to get to London, costing me a few extra pounds on board to actually make it. To top it off, I had forgotten the name of my dad's hotel and had to find a way to check my email to look it up again – I managed this only by using a display iPhone at a vodaphone store at Paddington. All was fine when, at last, I made it to my dad's hotel and found him.
Over the week, we visited Bristol (sadly, no one was around to introduce), the London Eye (to my acrophobic father's nervousness), the Churchill War Rooms, the British Museum's Shakespeare exhibit, Covent Garden, and a West End show. The highlight was certainly seeing Twelfth Night at the Apollo theatre, produced by the Globe theatre. We managed to pick up the tickets last-minute from a store across from the British Museum, for a pretty good price. When we got to our seats the actors were finalizing their makeup and costumes on stage, showing how male actors were dressing as the Countess, Viola, etc., as musicians onstage played traditional Victorian instruments – in what I understand to be the first time they'd been used in a show on Shaftsbury Ave in centuries. We were also more than pleasantly surprised to find that Stephen Fry, of whom my dad and I are big fans, was playing Malvolio. He did not disappoint in his cross-gartered yellow stockings.
Though I had hoped to find a physical theatre or contemporary circus show to take my dad, a couple of street performers at Covent Garden at least gave a sense of it. The street performance style, as one of the performers commented, is honest and pure. The routines themselves were incredibly simple, as far as tricks were concerned – one did an escape act from a bunch of chains, another did a slack rope walk while juggling knives – but each filled easily 15 - 20 minutes of time just building up to it. I hope to get a chance to read Bim's book on street performance. It's unfortunate that I won't be around in the spring, when there is a big street performance intensive, culminating in presentations in Bath. It is something I have a little amateur experience with, but there is a science to it – conjuring a crowd and keeping its attention, pushing volunteers' comfort limits, improvising with – that takes experience and practice to learn.
Now, as my train pulls into Temple Meads Station, I can close by saying that it has been an enjoyable break. I've gotten to see some of the sights and some of the performance England is famous for, and much of the countryside from train windows, and the Physics GRE is, at last, behind me. I look forward to resuming training without that worry anymore.
Monday, 5 November 2012
E&M Presentation: The Thieving Magpie
It was a long week leading up to this. The 34 of us each had to write a routine to the same song, and a challenging song to write to. This means that each class and practice consisted of nonstop repetitions of the Thieving Magpie, featured in this video. In addition, we each had to pick one non-juggling object to study and manipulate.
Some feedback suggests that I was 'taking the piss' out of the assignment. Perhaps I was, if unintentionally... Truth be told, considering I had two weeks with a brand new prop, I think it turned out pretty well.
The result is this – my blanket manipulation!
Tuesday, 30 October 2012
Monday, 29 October 2012
Presentations in Acrobalance and Trapeze!
At last, I've acquired and uploaded the videos from the Friday presentations. I've included the names of each trick in the descriptions, along with the assignment.
I hope my group mates don't mind my sharing this (if any of you do, please let me know and I'll remove your information from it). The assignment was simply to construct a routine using the tricks we'd been taught in tumbling and acro, with neutral character and no music. The neutral aspect was especially challenging, but
I am not an aerialist. Despite this fact, I think I managed to pull off a decent routine. A few nicely difficult tricks in there (handstand, forward roll, hanging beat into front balance, drop to angel). I did not manage a barrel roll or consistent toe hang, as I'd hoped, and though I managed to get a pop-off (dropping backwards to pike from sitting) there was nowhere to fit in the routine. My apologies for the lighting, this is how South Wing is set up. I also needed to use this particular trapeze so I'd have enough space on the ropes and above the floor.
As I mentioned on Facebook, there are some really talented students in the class. I was thoroughly impressed with many of my classmates, and with the clever transitions they managed to pull through some very difficult tricks. Wish I could show them all here...
I hope my group mates don't mind my sharing this (if any of you do, please let me know and I'll remove your information from it). The assignment was simply to construct a routine using the tricks we'd been taught in tumbling and acro, with neutral character and no music. The neutral aspect was especially challenging, but
I am not an aerialist. Despite this fact, I think I managed to pull off a decent routine. A few nicely difficult tricks in there (handstand, forward roll, hanging beat into front balance, drop to angel). I did not manage a barrel roll or consistent toe hang, as I'd hoped, and though I managed to get a pop-off (dropping backwards to pike from sitting) there was nowhere to fit in the routine. My apologies for the lighting, this is how South Wing is set up. I also needed to use this particular trapeze so I'd have enough space on the ropes and above the floor.
As I mentioned on Facebook, there are some really talented students in the class. I was thoroughly impressed with many of my classmates, and with the clever transitions they managed to pull through some very difficult tricks. Wish I could show them all here...
Saturday, 20 October 2012
Reflections on Weeks Two and Three
Things seem to be picking up and going smoothly as everyone settles into routines. Each week has been more or less structured as the first was in terms of classes, with classwork of varying difficulty, especially in areas of aerial and acrobatics. I went to see a show in Cardiff last Friday by the Australian company C!rca. I've already posted a short video of theirs sampling the show, but I owe a longer post on it. Otherwise, I've continued preparation for the Physics GRE, tried to keep a high protein diet, discovered the joys of tights and dumpster-diving for food, gotten to better know the fascinating people who chose circus school of all things, and posted about it all here.
Aerial
As much as I have enjoyed learning the trapeze, I know that I am not an aerialist at heart. It is like how I approach the unicycle – something I can do, and have enjoyed doing, but not something that inspires me the way manipulation, physics, physical theatre, or acrobatics can. I'll continue conditioning and practicing what aerial I've learned. At the very least it's excellent training in building strength, flexibility, and pain tolerance, and it pushes me well out of my comfort zones.
We've recently covered tricks such as drop-to-angel, gallopettes (forward and back), millwheels, hanging beats to front balance, and hock beats. All of these are what I call dynamic tricks: those that involve some sort of drop, slide, or balance, rather than simply forming a shape. These are especially challenging because I have to put myself briefly beyond muscle control, and trust form and grip to keep me safe. So far, no falls, but my forearms get sore from instinctively gripping too hard on these.
A fear of heights is really just a fear of the possibility of falling, as your mind considers all available options at any given moment and you realize that letting go is one of them. Your brain is aware that you have the option of falling, and though of course you'd never take it the fact it's there makes it more prominent than holding on. It's like trying not to think of elephants when someone tells you not to. You should focus on the narrow path but all you see is the cliff beside it. Then, of course, the dynamic tricks ask you to jump to a lower ledge, and you know you can make it there but you can't look away from the possible mistakes.
For next Friday, we each have to compose a brief presentation of aerial to music of our choice. I've decided to fit some of these dynamic patterns into my routine, as well as front balance (which I have yet to master, to much frustration and lower-ab bruising), to force myself to train harder and conquer this fear. As I try with juggling routines – write it, then learn to do it.
Acrobatics
My handstands have been getting much more solid. I even managed to tuck-up into handstand the other day without assistance. Not bragging or anything...
We've gotten into some harder tumbling, and a couple harder positions. Shoulder stand on feet, which is pretty much an inverted two-high, is a fun one, if harder to get into and balance. We've been working toward headsprings in tumbling, which is to the headstand what the handspring is to the handstand. Cartwheel on knees, despite kicking a friend in the face while doing it, has gotten better. I'm certain I'm going to try to specialize in acro.
I'll say more about last Friday's group presentations when I have the video from it available. Long story short – my group wore tights and A-shirts and was well-received. We played it safe with patterns, sticking to the simple ones we had solid, but the end result was a clean, 'dropless,' routine.
Physical Theatre
[I've combined the performance, play in performance, creative movement, and movement tech courses into this category for now.]
For creative movement, we've continued with choreographic work and have started to include concepts of stillness and repetition to movements. We wrote pieces by assigning random numbers to body parts and points in space, then using our phone numbers to define a sequence of "part-direction." These we then tweaked in pairs, adapted by finding moments of stillness and repetition, and went to town. Always fun to explore new ways to move.
In movement tech, we've finally gotten into some miming – specifically, Lecoq mime techniques. There's a 9-step sequence we've learned, the purpose of which has yet to be revealed, and we've also learned some basic mime skills – pushing/pulling, fixed points, climbing a short wall, invisible walls, suitcases, etc. The use of impact and impulse, opposing ways of distributing effort, creates much of the illusion. Last Friday, we worked with our eyes a bit too and I learned to do this.
We had our first introduction to mime on Friday of last week (the 12th), and then immediately had to put together presentations using it for our Friday devising/presentation session. The task was to create a "mystery house," which in many cases was a haunted house but sometimes got more abstract. My group's wound up, accidentally, being pretty close to the Doctor Who episode "Blink," complete with weeping angels and a creepy house.
In Performance, over the last week we've begun working with neutral masks. They look pretty close to the ones here. True to the Jacques Lecoq method (apparently, our instructor Bim Mason studied at the Lecoq institute), the purpose of the neutral mask is, not nightmare fuel, but to drop all facial expression and move all focus to the body language. For the first exercise, groups of four classmates would put the masks on while facing away, then turn around and stand to face the class. As we discussed their body languages, something incredible happened – I no longer felt as though my classmates were in the room. Something foreign stood across the room from us, watching, listening, as we discussed them like sculptures or lab mice.
Creepy? Yes, but incredible!
Equilibristics and Manipulation
New props have been introduced, as well as more specific types of manipulation! Classes are starting to look like a cross between the first few weeks of Strong Jugglers practice (i.e., introducing all available props) and festival workshops (i.e., teaching a specific skill to a big group). This offers something for everyone – beginners get to play with more, while more experienced jugglers broaden their skill range and learn more intricate manipulation ideas. We've gotten into various body throws and rolls, as well as club rolling/balancing and 3-club manipulation.
Other props that have been introduced include cigar boxes, hats, poles (balancing), diabolo, bounce juggling, and ball spinning. I've actually picked up a bit of cigar boxes, something I've never really tried before. Bounce is frustrating, of course, because it depends so much on the surface and any error will send you sprinting across the room. I've gotten some advice on working toward a chin balance while juggling, and with longer poles I've managed to get close to a seal position.
The instructors – Seb and Rod – have distinct juggling styles that show a great range to the students. Each instructor's approach has its advantages.. Seb does a lot with clubs, from what I've heard and seen, in a modern artistic style. Seb has run classes on body throws, and getting creative with a simple 423-esque pattern [actually, (2x,2)2(2,2x)2, essentially 423 but without throwing the 4] by mixing up where throws go – behind the back, neck, under the leg, etc. He also ran a neat class on club rolling and balancing, and how to mix collects and multiplexes into a three-club routine.
Rod is best known for his more classical, comedic ping pong juggling act, and he holds the world record for ping pong balls juggled in mouth (10). So far, his classes have been practical introductions to the different props with advice on tricks to develop. This has been useful for me for those areas that are new to me, like ball spinning, head bouncing, or cigar boxes. I've also gotten good practice advice from him.
Though I wouldn't call this the best school for E&M, it is certainly good for jugglers looking to expand their repertoire, add some performance quality, and develop their own unique style.
Rumor is that our first presentations will involve picking a random everyday object to manipulate. Perhaps it's time to revive my underpants plate-spinning idea from pre-high school days...
Aerial
As much as I have enjoyed learning the trapeze, I know that I am not an aerialist at heart. It is like how I approach the unicycle – something I can do, and have enjoyed doing, but not something that inspires me the way manipulation, physics, physical theatre, or acrobatics can. I'll continue conditioning and practicing what aerial I've learned. At the very least it's excellent training in building strength, flexibility, and pain tolerance, and it pushes me well out of my comfort zones.
We've recently covered tricks such as drop-to-angel, gallopettes (forward and back), millwheels, hanging beats to front balance, and hock beats. All of these are what I call dynamic tricks: those that involve some sort of drop, slide, or balance, rather than simply forming a shape. These are especially challenging because I have to put myself briefly beyond muscle control, and trust form and grip to keep me safe. So far, no falls, but my forearms get sore from instinctively gripping too hard on these.
A fear of heights is really just a fear of the possibility of falling, as your mind considers all available options at any given moment and you realize that letting go is one of them. Your brain is aware that you have the option of falling, and though of course you'd never take it the fact it's there makes it more prominent than holding on. It's like trying not to think of elephants when someone tells you not to. You should focus on the narrow path but all you see is the cliff beside it. Then, of course, the dynamic tricks ask you to jump to a lower ledge, and you know you can make it there but you can't look away from the possible mistakes.
For next Friday, we each have to compose a brief presentation of aerial to music of our choice. I've decided to fit some of these dynamic patterns into my routine, as well as front balance (which I have yet to master, to much frustration and lower-ab bruising), to force myself to train harder and conquer this fear. As I try with juggling routines – write it, then learn to do it.
Acrobatics
My handstands have been getting much more solid. I even managed to tuck-up into handstand the other day without assistance. Not bragging or anything...
We've gotten into some harder tumbling, and a couple harder positions. Shoulder stand on feet, which is pretty much an inverted two-high, is a fun one, if harder to get into and balance. We've been working toward headsprings in tumbling, which is to the headstand what the handspring is to the handstand. Cartwheel on knees, despite kicking a friend in the face while doing it, has gotten better. I'm certain I'm going to try to specialize in acro.
I'll say more about last Friday's group presentations when I have the video from it available. Long story short – my group wore tights and A-shirts and was well-received. We played it safe with patterns, sticking to the simple ones we had solid, but the end result was a clean, 'dropless,' routine.
Physical Theatre
[I've combined the performance, play in performance, creative movement, and movement tech courses into this category for now.]
For creative movement, we've continued with choreographic work and have started to include concepts of stillness and repetition to movements. We wrote pieces by assigning random numbers to body parts and points in space, then using our phone numbers to define a sequence of "part-direction." These we then tweaked in pairs, adapted by finding moments of stillness and repetition, and went to town. Always fun to explore new ways to move.
In movement tech, we've finally gotten into some miming – specifically, Lecoq mime techniques. There's a 9-step sequence we've learned, the purpose of which has yet to be revealed, and we've also learned some basic mime skills – pushing/pulling, fixed points, climbing a short wall, invisible walls, suitcases, etc. The use of impact and impulse, opposing ways of distributing effort, creates much of the illusion. Last Friday, we worked with our eyes a bit too and I learned to do this.
We had our first introduction to mime on Friday of last week (the 12th), and then immediately had to put together presentations using it for our Friday devising/presentation session. The task was to create a "mystery house," which in many cases was a haunted house but sometimes got more abstract. My group's wound up, accidentally, being pretty close to the Doctor Who episode "Blink," complete with weeping angels and a creepy house.
In Performance, over the last week we've begun working with neutral masks. They look pretty close to the ones here. True to the Jacques Lecoq method (apparently, our instructor Bim Mason studied at the Lecoq institute), the purpose of the neutral mask is, not nightmare fuel, but to drop all facial expression and move all focus to the body language. For the first exercise, groups of four classmates would put the masks on while facing away, then turn around and stand to face the class. As we discussed their body languages, something incredible happened – I no longer felt as though my classmates were in the room. Something foreign stood across the room from us, watching, listening, as we discussed them like sculptures or lab mice.
Creepy? Yes, but incredible!
Equilibristics and Manipulation
New props have been introduced, as well as more specific types of manipulation! Classes are starting to look like a cross between the first few weeks of Strong Jugglers practice (i.e., introducing all available props) and festival workshops (i.e., teaching a specific skill to a big group). This offers something for everyone – beginners get to play with more, while more experienced jugglers broaden their skill range and learn more intricate manipulation ideas. We've gotten into various body throws and rolls, as well as club rolling/balancing and 3-club manipulation.
Other props that have been introduced include cigar boxes, hats, poles (balancing), diabolo, bounce juggling, and ball spinning. I've actually picked up a bit of cigar boxes, something I've never really tried before. Bounce is frustrating, of course, because it depends so much on the surface and any error will send you sprinting across the room. I've gotten some advice on working toward a chin balance while juggling, and with longer poles I've managed to get close to a seal position.
The instructors – Seb and Rod – have distinct juggling styles that show a great range to the students. Each instructor's approach has its advantages.. Seb does a lot with clubs, from what I've heard and seen, in a modern artistic style. Seb has run classes on body throws, and getting creative with a simple 423-esque pattern [actually, (2x,2)2(2,2x)2, essentially 423 but without throwing the 4] by mixing up where throws go – behind the back, neck, under the leg, etc. He also ran a neat class on club rolling and balancing, and how to mix collects and multiplexes into a three-club routine.
Rod is best known for his more classical, comedic ping pong juggling act, and he holds the world record for ping pong balls juggled in mouth (10). So far, his classes have been practical introductions to the different props with advice on tricks to develop. This has been useful for me for those areas that are new to me, like ball spinning, head bouncing, or cigar boxes. I've also gotten good practice advice from him.
Though I wouldn't call this the best school for E&M, it is certainly good for jugglers looking to expand their repertoire, add some performance quality, and develop their own unique style.
Rumor is that our first presentations will involve picking a random everyday object to manipulate. Perhaps it's time to revive my underpants plate-spinning idea from pre-high school days...
Friday, 19 October 2012
C!rca presents – Wunderkammer
I went to see this in Cardiff last Friday and was completely blown away! I'll say more about it later, but for now, check out this video sample of the show:
Wunderkammer (5 minute version) from Circa on Vimeo.
Wunderkammer (5 minute version) from Circa on Vimeo.
Wednesday, 17 October 2012
Performance class – Choral Work
[I put this on Facebook originally, but decided it was better off here. I may have already mentioned the choral work, but I think this sums it up better]
Possibly the strangest theatre game I've ever played. Called "choral work," we stand in clumps and all try to follow each other. Nobody leads. If someone coughs, it's amplified into a mass coughing fit. Someone laughs, and everyone bursts into hysterics. A scratch turns into everyone fiercely itching, then scratching each other, then tickling each other.
I've been part of groups that start m
Possibly the strangest theatre game I've ever played. Called "choral work," we stand in clumps and all try to follow each other. Nobody leads. If someone coughs, it's amplified into a mass coughing fit. Someone laughs, and everyone bursts into hysterics. A scratch turns into everyone fiercely itching, then scratching each other, then tickling each other.
I've been part of groups that start m
arching, bowing and chanting, turn to mosh pits, crawling and rolling. Today, my group howled like wolves and hooted like owls.
Now, take that, and add concepts of space: 'near' (not touching), 'skin' distance (touching), and 'bone' distance (a kind of boiling motion of everyone stacking on top of each other and falling to support others). Within the group, everyone tumbles over and around each other, losing sense of self into a mob of motion and contact.
Now, take that, and add concepts of space: 'near' (not touching), 'skin' distance (touching), and 'bone' distance (a kind of boiling motion of everyone stacking on top of each other and falling to support others). Within the group, everyone tumbles over and around each other, losing sense of self into a mob of motion and contact.
Monday, 15 October 2012
The Invisible Circus presents, "The Happiness Machine"
Unlike Box of Frogs, I approached this show having read no information about it. I came to see The Invisible Circus's "The Happiness Machine," knowing only the name. Getting to the show was an experience in itself, as it took place in a big top between a river and the railroad tracks. Thought this was was my first circus in a big top, I couldn't help getting a sense of nostalgia for the traditional circus or carnival – smelling the polyester tent, waiting in line outside in a small drizzle. I wasn't sure at first if the fog in the air was from the river or from fog machines (machines, sadly, it turned out).
The show opens with a slow, folksy banjo pluck as a caravan shop resembling the Trojan horse rolls onstage, popping open to reveal a travelling salesman – the show's narrator, or possibly emcee. He remains the only character with a direct connection to the audience, and with carny-like wit comments on the rise of materialism and dispensability in the modern world. Though this show was contemporary, I'm tempted to call the salesman a ringmaster for his role – conveying the rushing activity behind him to the audience. At one point, he poses the question, "Are they really living the dream, or dreaming that they live?"
Though I felt the theme of the show was a bit clichéd, it was certainly well executed. The set is a mockup of two-story tenement buildings, with a space in the middle for a changing billboard advertising the next big product. Each circus skill fit neatly into the busy world of consumers and suppliers. An aerial hoop act was set up as a commercial for golden gloves, the latest "must-have" product. A slack wire act cleverly mocks the high-strung and teetering world of a businessman (apologies for the pun). Three aerial hoops served as an obstacle course in a game show. The opening of the show sets up a clever assembly-line style package delivery, using acrobatics on a teeterboard to deliver packages to higher tenement rooms.
The opening of the second half featured three Corde Lisses on pulleys, such that as the aerialists climbed them the rope would drop, leaving the climbing figure thrashing and twisting in vain. This was one of the darker moments of the show, as a dirty, pot-bellied character Rodney seems trapped in a couch watching his television. I don't know why the image should strike me as so tragic. When not onstage, Rodney is visible through one of the tenement windows rhythmically smoking, flipping channels, drinking, and eating. He is an anti-clown figure – you laugh, because his existence is so miserable and sad. He has no family or friends, and his only joy is watching "The Magic Door" each week. He is overwhelmed when finally his lifelong dream is realized, and he competes in the show for a mystery prize which is never revealed. Each challenge in the show leads him deeper toward an unknown goal, but very likely to be as cheap and meaningless as the other glittering products that tempt people.
Throughout, characters like Rodney search for the thing that will make them happy. One woman excitedly opens packages, each containing the must-have product of the day, only to be disappointed and discard it. Her daughter then picks them up and tries to give them to the salesman, who refuses them as useless junk. Those two had great interactions throughout the show, the salesman trying to sell her funny trinkets and her, mysteriously, enjoying them but not buying.
The show concludes with a massive free-for-all of circus – acrobats tumbling haphazardly, teeter-boards springing, bodies and objects hurled every which way – which builds into a wonderful cloud swing routine performed by the daughter character. The chaotic finale with its clean, calm finish in the cloud swing seems to suggest that the real 'happiness machine' is in this art, and in the experience of being alive just by moving freely. At least, that's what I understood of it. Meaning aside, it was a fun evening and an enjoyable show.
I'm falling behind on these posts, since I went to see The Happiness Machine a week before last Thursday. Since then, I've seen another show in Cardiff that I must share.
The show opens with a slow, folksy banjo pluck as a caravan shop resembling the Trojan horse rolls onstage, popping open to reveal a travelling salesman – the show's narrator, or possibly emcee. He remains the only character with a direct connection to the audience, and with carny-like wit comments on the rise of materialism and dispensability in the modern world. Though this show was contemporary, I'm tempted to call the salesman a ringmaster for his role – conveying the rushing activity behind him to the audience. At one point, he poses the question, "Are they really living the dream, or dreaming that they live?"
Though I felt the theme of the show was a bit clichéd, it was certainly well executed. The set is a mockup of two-story tenement buildings, with a space in the middle for a changing billboard advertising the next big product. Each circus skill fit neatly into the busy world of consumers and suppliers. An aerial hoop act was set up as a commercial for golden gloves, the latest "must-have" product. A slack wire act cleverly mocks the high-strung and teetering world of a businessman (apologies for the pun). Three aerial hoops served as an obstacle course in a game show. The opening of the show sets up a clever assembly-line style package delivery, using acrobatics on a teeterboard to deliver packages to higher tenement rooms.
The opening of the second half featured three Corde Lisses on pulleys, such that as the aerialists climbed them the rope would drop, leaving the climbing figure thrashing and twisting in vain. This was one of the darker moments of the show, as a dirty, pot-bellied character Rodney seems trapped in a couch watching his television. I don't know why the image should strike me as so tragic. When not onstage, Rodney is visible through one of the tenement windows rhythmically smoking, flipping channels, drinking, and eating. He is an anti-clown figure – you laugh, because his existence is so miserable and sad. He has no family or friends, and his only joy is watching "The Magic Door" each week. He is overwhelmed when finally his lifelong dream is realized, and he competes in the show for a mystery prize which is never revealed. Each challenge in the show leads him deeper toward an unknown goal, but very likely to be as cheap and meaningless as the other glittering products that tempt people.
Throughout, characters like Rodney search for the thing that will make them happy. One woman excitedly opens packages, each containing the must-have product of the day, only to be disappointed and discard it. Her daughter then picks them up and tries to give them to the salesman, who refuses them as useless junk. Those two had great interactions throughout the show, the salesman trying to sell her funny trinkets and her, mysteriously, enjoying them but not buying.
The show concludes with a massive free-for-all of circus – acrobats tumbling haphazardly, teeter-boards springing, bodies and objects hurled every which way – which builds into a wonderful cloud swing routine performed by the daughter character. The chaotic finale with its clean, calm finish in the cloud swing seems to suggest that the real 'happiness machine' is in this art, and in the experience of being alive just by moving freely. At least, that's what I understood of it. Meaning aside, it was a fun evening and an enjoyable show.
I'm falling behind on these posts, since I went to see The Happiness Machine a week before last Thursday. Since then, I've seen another show in Cardiff that I must share.
Friday Night in London
This is a bit late, but definitely worth mentioning! On Friday the 28th, I went into London to a club. Now, normally I can't stand clubs. They're dangerously loud and packed, very expensive to enter, and overall not much fun. I was especially nervous since I didn't have a functioning cell phone at the time, so if I lost track of my group I'd be stranded. Fortunately, the people I went in with were aware of this and very helpful.
My main reasons for going at all were to see London (how often do I get to do that?), and to see Steph performing at this club. Steph is on the one-year course, and does some aerial acts as well as burlesque fire manipulations – fire fans, body burning, etc. The decision to go was last-minute, and I didn't find out until I was on the highway that the tickets had sold out! Incredibly, Steph managed to get me on the guest list under the names of performers. I was to tell them at the door that I was "Beans on Toast," performing with Slamboree...
It turns out that they didn't have any record of that name, but still let me in. Go figure... at least I didn't have to pay the 20 quid fee to get in. The event itself was called Rumpus, and club-goers were supposed to dress up as crazy as they could manage. I lack much costume material, since my juggling equipment took up most of my suitcase, so I had just put on a nicer shirt and some dark pants.
This wasn't a typical club, though. Though parts of it were absurdly packed, and waiting in line in the rain to get in was annoying, there was live music in multiple rooms and a lot of circus happening. This made it more into a concert than a club, and the circus I saw there was unlike any I'd encountered before. When I first got there, there was an act of 3 Corde Lisses on stage, with aerialists working in tandem on each. This was yet another side of circus arts I'd never seen – performers in dark costume to dubstep music.
The night turned interesting, after I'd had a couple drinks, when James, another student who works with Steph, asked if I'd be up for improvising some 3-ball onstage with him. Of course, I said yes. Since I lacked a costume, I just went shirtless. I was given three K8 LED balls and rocked out onstage with Slamboree! After a while, I managed to drop one so it rolled upstage and out of reach, so I had to finish up with two... but for two drinks and a few minute's notice, I think I did a decent job of juggling for a crowd of hundreds.
You can see me from backstage at 15 seconds in this video:
We spent the night at James's friend's flat, getting back around 4:30 and got up early afternoon, had a nice breakfast at a cafe and then watched (of all things) "Team America: World Police" until James felt ready to make the drive back to Bristol. Overall, a pretty kickass ending to a first week of training. I managed to bend or break pretty much every rule of my training regiment – staying up late, sleeping in, drinking – but got to see a new side of circus and take part in it.
My main reasons for going at all were to see London (how often do I get to do that?), and to see Steph performing at this club. Steph is on the one-year course, and does some aerial acts as well as burlesque fire manipulations – fire fans, body burning, etc. The decision to go was last-minute, and I didn't find out until I was on the highway that the tickets had sold out! Incredibly, Steph managed to get me on the guest list under the names of performers. I was to tell them at the door that I was "Beans on Toast," performing with Slamboree...
It turns out that they didn't have any record of that name, but still let me in. Go figure... at least I didn't have to pay the 20 quid fee to get in. The event itself was called Rumpus, and club-goers were supposed to dress up as crazy as they could manage. I lack much costume material, since my juggling equipment took up most of my suitcase, so I had just put on a nicer shirt and some dark pants.
This wasn't a typical club, though. Though parts of it were absurdly packed, and waiting in line in the rain to get in was annoying, there was live music in multiple rooms and a lot of circus happening. This made it more into a concert than a club, and the circus I saw there was unlike any I'd encountered before. When I first got there, there was an act of 3 Corde Lisses on stage, with aerialists working in tandem on each. This was yet another side of circus arts I'd never seen – performers in dark costume to dubstep music.
The night turned interesting, after I'd had a couple drinks, when James, another student who works with Steph, asked if I'd be up for improvising some 3-ball onstage with him. Of course, I said yes. Since I lacked a costume, I just went shirtless. I was given three K8 LED balls and rocked out onstage with Slamboree! After a while, I managed to drop one so it rolled upstage and out of reach, so I had to finish up with two... but for two drinks and a few minute's notice, I think I did a decent job of juggling for a crowd of hundreds.
You can see me from backstage at 15 seconds in this video:
And here's my view from backstage:
Wednesday, 10 October 2012
A reflection on Week One
[Do note that I count enrollment week as Week 0.]
Finally, three days into my second week here, I have a chance to reflect on the first week. I'm already much more bruised and sore than when I landed, but if it doesn't take me too late to write this I shouldn't be too tired tomorrow.A typical day comprises a Foundation Tech (warm ups, conditioning and stretching), two 1 hour 40 minute class sessions with a 20 min break, an hour for lunch, then two or three more class/practice sessions in the afternoon. Subjects like acro, E&M, and aerial tend to alternate by day between a class and a guided practice session, interspersed with conditioning (advanced pilates) classes and contextual studies lectures (on history of circus, performance theory, finding a career, etc.)
We also have classes that could fit under the umbrella of "physical theatre": Performance, Creative Movement, Movement Technique, and Play in Performance. I won't go into excessive detail on each one, but loosely one could say that Play in Performance is a bit like clowning, and Creative Movement seems like choreography and modern dance, while Movement Technique covers specific techniques such as Lecoq (mime), ballet, and kung fu (I'm not kidding). At the moment, we're doing Le Performance classes (with Bim Mason, the artistic director/founder) explore the relationship between performers and audiences and offer strict critiques of performances devised and given on Friday afternoon classes.
The PT classes also mostly consist of specific games and exercises. For instance, on the first day of Wayne's 'Play in Performance' class we did an exercise in which each student rose to face the class, look each person in the eye and share a moment with him/her until the student felt it okay to move on to the next. It was just that -- look at each student, then go back to your seat. No acting, no character, but just an effort to properly connect with each audience member and, importantly, expose yourself as you are. As we're learning, this an important aspect of the clowning craft -- to expose your self.
Performance classes have mostly consisted of mirroring games, as I believe Bim wants us to first develop a keener awareness of the space and of subtle body language. One game began with groups standing perfectly still, all facing the same direction, and then (with nobody leading) all attempting to follow the "group's impulse" [come to think of it, much of what goes on in these classes would have been a goldmine of data for my high school research project...] to move a certain way, no matter how big or small it is. The results are, frankly, creepy -- groups wind up military-marching around the room, or bowing and chanting in a circle, or (as mine did) form a mosh pit, all building out of accidental noises and body language within the group.
I could go on for days about the weird and fascinating stuff that goes on in these classes. They provide a more abstract and theatrical shift from the more technical instruction that goes on in E&M, acro, and aerial. I can quickly report what we've covered in these classes for those interested:
Equilibristics and Manipulation
E&M has introduced ball, club and ring juggling to students new to them, while encouraging experience students to work on numbers. As a result, I've mostly spent this last week working on 5-club, 6 and 7 ball, 5 ball siteswaps ((6x,4), 744, trying for 97531, half shower, reverse cascade), and drilling 5 ring. There's some flexibility for the experienced students, and we have pushed each other to try new tricks, props and passing patterns. Also, where else can I say that classes end with quick games of combat?
The instructors (Seb and Rod) have been very helpful to me by suggesting drills to improve technique -- doing a three ball snake to work on 7, two club snake to work to 5, narrowing my 5 pattern to prepare for 7, running 20 catches at a time for 5 ring. They've taken an odd approach with the rest of the class, for good reasons I'm sure, such as introducing Mill's Mess as the first trick after learning 3-ball cascade, teaching rings and clubs immediately after starting balls, and moving those who could do 3 to 4 immediately.
Acrobatics
Acro consists mostly of acrobalance in class and practice, with a weekly tumbling lesson. Thus far, we've covered:
handstands, headstands, thigh stand (long mount) with two or one base, 'baby balance', forward standing balance, flag (flagpole), superman, candlestick, standing on shoulders (with base kneeling), forward rolls, backward rolls, handstand rolls, and cartwheels.
It is extraordinarily difficult to try to explain most of these in writing, though some are self-explanatory, especially since terms can vary for the same tricks. Overall, these tricks are absolutely basic to acrobatics. The fun part is that EVERYONE is expected to base and fly each form. This is how I wound up standing on the shoulders of a girl 2/3 my height and weight, and in turn based people much bigger than me.
Aerial
Like acro, aerial has been about learning the fundamental forms and conditioning exercises to handle them. The big difference here is that if something hurts -- a lot -- it's probably right. I've found this frustrating, against my instinct, as is the typical class environment of six students yelling 'point your feet,' 'now let go', 'no no, roll onto...', etc. while I'm trying to get my bearings without losing my grip. That at least goes against my juggler's learning style -- trial and error until I get the feel for it.
This is not to say any ill of the instructors -- Mike and Jon can spot exactly what's going wrong, and can understand a beginner's troubles. They talk us through each sequence, (Mike with some colorful language to help us remember), and know what advice to give while upside-down and what to say when upright again. And landing the tricks is incredible, when done right, forming all kinds of shapes on a trapeze.
Shapes, thus far -- Hock Sit Stand Sit Hock, half angel, lamppost, candlestick, gladiator (spider), mermaid, star on a bar into bird's nest into half angel, stag, gazelle, forward roll (I call it terror at 13 ft), pencil hang, and a number of conditioning drills such as hock situps, ankle hang situps (haven't quite gotten the hang of these yet...), chinups, hock pop-ups.
That's all for now! You can expect other posts soon, including:
- Friday night in London, performing with Slamboree
- What separates entertainment from art?
- The Invisible Circus's "The Happiness Machine"
- Motivations
Wednesday, 3 October 2012
Friday through Saturday
From now on, my posts will be mostly weekly. Though I am keeping a strict log of everything we do in each class, that kind of information would be overwhelming if posted, so I'll try to keep this to reflections and discoveries.
Following the show on Thursday, I was very excited for a workshop in hula hoop from one of the stumbleDance performers -- Silvia Pavone! As pointed out at the beginning, hula hoop is a predominantly female activity, but everyone in the studio was enthusiastic about it. We worked on isolations and stalls as a group, then did a bit on spinning on the hips, then on transferring from hips to neck and back. I also worked a bit on forehead balance and
 |
| Delphins! |
Friday, we had E&M (at last!). No, not electricity and magnetism – equilibristics and manipulation. Equilibristics refers to balance props, such as rolling globe, unicycle, rola bola, etc., and manipulation comprises all types of juggling. This course is taught by Rod Laver and Seb Valade. Evidently, this course will cover balls, clubs, rings, hats, cigar boxes, diabolo, unicycle, globe, and rola bola – all in six weeks! Then students choose two specializations. It seems like those in the class who couldn't juggle are picking it up quickly, and those of us that can have a lot of freedom to practice what we want for the time being. So far, we're restricted to balls, which will help me focus on improving my ball juggling. Can't wait until we get to rings though...
On Saturday, I tried to go for a run by myself and forgot to turn at a gas station, and wound up lost for a good hour. Still, a good way to get around. I managed to do some shopping and got back in time to have practice with some other jugglers. Though we had mismatched clubs (my delphins and someone else's radical fish), we managed to pass between two walkarounds and made a good attempt at vishnu.
Thursday, 27 September 2012
stumbleDance Circus's Box of Frogs
Box Of Frogs by Stumble danceCircus - Trailer from XTRAX on Vimeo.
stumbleDance Circus's Box of Frogs demonstrates circus as a bipolar art form, representing the state of a bipolar disorder sufferer's mind as the stage. Characters would run wild streams of speech, frantically change costumes, receive packages for things they'd bought in frenzied online shopping, and leap about with sheer mania. Soon after, the depressive side would emerge – characters would slow, stop speaking, music would shift, lights dim. Other flavors of mania emerged too, such as the exploration of an enraged mania triggered by a juggler on TV screens upstage (the juggler representing that irritating sound or movement somewhere in the room that you can't ignore, a feeling I'm all too familiar with...).
Each performer utilized two routines to show the extremes of the disorder – an opening bicycle routine piled all of the neutral and manic on top of a depressed rider, perhaps to demonstrate the burdening and crushing weight of a depression, especially as the rider gradually fell to the floor. This contasted with a later act styled in classical circus costumes and character – costumes themselves contrasting with the bicycle itself, a new circus prop. One performer started on the Corde Lisse, counting as she ascended and wrapped herself in various ways, as she copes with the irritation of the juggler. Later on, she explodes in a violent ascension, trying to hide herself in her rope and appreciate its softness. A pair of acrobats, who were especially manic throughout, started the show with very difficult and energetic tricks. Later on, however, they came down from their mania, and did a simple, dark routine while airing depressed thoughts. Though working together, each seemed very much alone
The routine that struck me most, however, was a hula hoop routine of all things, performed by Silvia Pavone. While her manic routine was mostly standard spinning – multiple hoops and in odd places – the depressive routine used only one hoop with great effect. Beautiful manipulations and shapes were alternatively whirled with violence or somber slowness. Silvia would suddenly thrash the hoop around herself and moments later sink to a slow, almost careless spin, as a lone bassoon played softly beside her and dim blue light lit the stage. The effect was of a lonely struggle, much as the acrobats achieved in their depressive routine.
A lot was revealed in a talkback session after the show, such as the reasons for the projector screens, the significance of the juggler, and the opinions of the performers themselves on their work. The opening acro routine, for example, is much more technically difficult than the later, depressive, one, but the latter is consistently the one that audiences appreciate more. The projectors were to show an inner monologue (and, conveniently, enabled them to have a consistently dropless juggling routine on display). Another, perhaps more interesting, thought that came up was that the directory had tried to realize this show as a play, and simply couldn't do it. It could only be done as a circus show, because it is the circus itself that, in her vision, shows a bipolar characteristic.
This being the first full contemporary circus show I've seen in Bristol, I am thrilled to see more. Next week I'll be seeing The Invisible Circus's production of The Happiness Machine.
Wednesday, 26 September 2012
First day of class – running too fast, and a little history
I went running in the morning with Seamus and Elliot – Seamus is a second year and I ran at his pace for most of the way, until we got to a hill and they started sprinting. I tried to keep up, pushed myself too far, and puked. A little embarrassing, but they tell me I ran farther and faster than most other first-years. I'll try running on my own next, and work up to that pace on the hill. 2.5 miles total, in under 15 min (of course, not counting walking back after puking).
Enrolment in the morning (paperwork), then a tour, then an aerial lesson (learned safety bits and then how to ascend the rope, also a suspension on the rope, and Hock Sit Stand Sit Hock on the trapeze.
They are REALLY strict about being on time here. Five minutes early is late. It's a good thing I'm on campus, and that for the most part we're staying in the same groups throughout the day. Most students are here for aerial it seems. There are a handful of jugglers here, very few among the second-years, but all can pass. This should make things interesting :).
There's a the Bristol Juggling Convention this weekend – tempting, but probably ill-advised so soon after arrival.
In a lecture from co-founder and artistic director Bim Mason, I learned some neat history of Kingswood (this area of Bristol) and the school. "Kings wood" was originally the king's hunting woods (16th century), with a special hunting lodge castle. The state eventually sold the land, and Kingswood became the dodgy 'outlaw' area outside of Bristol. Missionaries came in to save everyone, which is why there are so many abandoned churches around here (saw a neat one later, actually, walking with an Israeli student Odelia). On this site, the first Methodist school in England was built, in the 18th century, and then turned into a school for "naughty" children. These kids were taught to build walls as a form of constructive activity, and they built the original layout of the grounds to expand on their school. It was then turned into another naughty children school, but where there was much abuse (19th century). Supposedly, the choir in the church nearby would sing louder to cover the screams from the school. Scandal! It was then closed, abandoned for decades, ransacked by 'gypsies' (the locals called them) in the 1970s, then the south wing caught fire (damage is still visible now, a bit) rebuilt in 1986 as Fooltime. Fooltime was an ambitious project meant to rival other European circus schools, but ultimately failed in the 1990s due to a lack of funding. Circomedia was created from its ashes in 1993 as part of the Kingswood Foundation, which holds much charity programs for youth, and eventually developed its accredited 2-year FdA course (Foundation Degree in the Arts) with Bath Spa University.
Psyched to see Box of Frogs tomorrow!
Tuesday, 25 September 2012
Arrival
I flew Jet Airways (an Indian company) from Newark to Brussels, sitting next to a very nice older Indian woman. The PA system announcements were given in Hindi, English, and French. For the layover in Brussels I bought 20 EUR and used it to purchase Starbucks and a bottle of water -- Both expensive, but at the moment well worth the price. It struck me how much I enjoy visiting french-speaking countries. It's such a flowing, pretty language, and I wish I could understand it better.
The connecting flight from Brussels to Bristol was ADORABLE -- two seats one side, one on the other, and larger carry-ons had to be stowed. Beautiful views of Bristol countryside during descent. There were no issues at the border or customs despite some concerns over the incomplete visa application linked to my passport.
 |
| The Kingswood Estate |
I arrived at Kingswood estate and was introduced to Sam Astill who gave me my room/house keys. It's a cozy room in a small, on-site housing unit (see pictures). I met some roommates: Seamus, Sweta, and Sophie -- all second-year aerialists. They took me around campus showing me the various spaces.
We went downtown on 42 bus to do some necessary shopping, they warned me of how the Foundation Tech class is -- tons and tons of physical training. There was to be a Fitness Test the next day (deserving of capitals), which they told me is agony. I must push myself to extremes to set a good benchmark for improvement. In actuality, the fitness test was not so bad (this time).
The jet lag has been funny. I was tired earlier, probably because my body had seen the trip and first day as one long all-nighter (after staying up for almost all of the flight over the Atlantic). If I can stay up to a reasonable time tonight and wake up early tomorrow, I should beat it quickly.
Monday, 24 September 2012
So an astrophysics and math student from New York runs away with the circus...
This is my attempt at a travel blog, to document and share my experiences in something few Americans have the chance to do. There has been some interest among my group of friends for such a blog, but I hope to achieve more with it – namely, to promote a new image of the contemporary circus. As I prepared to leave, I had the opportunity to share and explain my program to family and friends, as well as classmates, professors, and coworkers. Responses have been informative, to say the least. Some have asked about my experience in lion-taming. Some seem to think the school is in a tent. Many have wished me the best of luck at 'juggling camp,' perhaps thinking I'd be here with a bunch of kids.
I don't claim to be any kind of expert on contemporary circus, (hence taking a year to study it), but I have seen much of the juggling and circus community and I know that it deserves a better reputation than it seems to have. As the Circomedia Artistic Director Bim Mason commented on our first day, on the arts in England, "you have opera, music, west end theatre, ballet, then down a bit is modern dance, then way down at the bottom is contemporary circus" (paraphrased). Circomedia's goal is to raise circus on this scale, as it seems to be in Canada, France, and China. Circus is an art, one that can generate visions impossible in other forms of performance. As I study and train here, I hope to bring this message home.
Feel free to ask any questions about the program
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)