"The Dots are People"

This arrived at the circus' head office just after my birthday...



I think he really captured the essence of my act, not to mention my feminine charms. RAWR!

Seriously though, Raphael may have adored the show, but he'll never know how much joy his drawing brought me and how deeply moved I am by the heartfelt doodlings of a small child. This was one of the best birthday gifts ever and that is why it has the honour of being the 100th post on this blog.

Best Gift Ever!

Sometimes, coincidences are awesome. Now just happens to be one of those times because my brand new German wheel arrived in Montreal just in time for my birthday! How sweet is that? Now I just have to wait until I get back to Montreal to put her together and take her out for a spin!

Or should that be 'a spiral'?

Either way, a Cadillac of German wheels is waiting for me in the living room!

Woo!

Oh, Yeah?

So the Universe thinks it can push me around, eh? The circus gods are getting a good laugh as the troupe struggles through the last leg of the run, are they? Well maybe in France they put up with those kinds of shenanigans, but we Canadians, we're made of tougher stuff. You push us, we'll apologize and push you right back.

This ain't no joke, or funny story you tell your friend over breakfast. This is serious.

Skull and crossbones shoe laces, serious.


Party's over, Universe. Its ass kickin' time.

Deep Breaths and Curse Words

Things don't always go according to plan.

Mama said there'd be days like this.

Sometimes everything that can go wrong does go wrong.

And sometimes those three things team up and kick your ass from here to Sunday.

Only if it was Sunday I'd have the next two days off...

Where do I even begin? The show seemed destined for difficulty before it even began. I've been having some health issues as of late, and tonight seemed to be one of the rougher nights. I mean, nothing sets the mood like having a heart to heart with the porcelain princess right before the show.

Troubles with the costume change, couscous in my wheel shoes (don't ask), straining my knee a little mid-way through my number, followed by taking a severe blow to the calf at the end.

Things seemed to look up until I came very close to knocking the marimba off the stage (only one side fell off...). This was then followed by the near catastrophic swinging-into-the-bottle chandelier incident. Thank the circus gods none of them broke... not that I didn't come close to breaking the extra bottles I was left to take onstage.

And hey, you know what goes good with a blow to the calf? Having a mirror shoved into both your shins! Which pairs marvelously with taking a platform to the gut as you maneuver your way through the backstage in the dark.

Cue the group battle scene (really!). Only add a stage covered in so much make up residue and couscous (don't ask) that everyone is sliding all over the place. Then try and do some acro on the slippery slippery floor. And then, for good measure, bash your forehead on the floor before you exit.

Nice!

Can't find the carabiner in the mess of fabric? No worries! That's beans compared to what's about to happen...

End of kite number. We try to take the kite down, but the kite won't move. Its stuck. Meanwhile, the white curtain is trying to go up only now its stuck in the kite. Fine. Bring everything back down. Big, gaping, silence of death follows... okay. That bit's settled. Move the structure forward and put everything in place. Cue the... wait! C isn't there yet! The bassist's mic pack and headphones are stuck on something and strangling him! The weight is still on the trampoline! P goes gives the audio cue to start and since I'm running late (someone had to get rid of the weight) and he often starts before I give him the visual cue anyway, I bolt to my place. More awkward silence and feeble attempts at curtain waving...

The curtain falls. The trampo-wall act finally starts. Its the last act of the show. So for good measure, I roll my ankle...

Deep breaths...

Curse words...

And now, bed.

F is for Fail

Don't let the title of this post worry you. F is for Fail is a lovely video that takes the viewer through an "alphabetical odyssey through the creative process." The film was created by Brent Barson, a freelance media designer and assistant professor of graphic design at Brigham Young University.

I've been through the creative process a number of times, and will undoubtedly find myself there again. This film sums up the experience nicely.

Enjoy.

Star Struck

There was an electricity backstage before yesterday's performance. It may have been a Sunday, but the evil forces of a matinee are no match for the news that there is a star in the audience. And I don't use the term lightly. Our circus had the good fortune to be graced by the presence of an Academy Award winning actress! The lovely and talented French starlet Juliette Binoche!


This was one of the rare instances where a French celebrity came to see the show and I actually knew who they were. You may recognize her from such films as Chocolat, Paris je t'aime, The English Patient and the Three Colors trilogy.

Sadly, I didn't actually see her. I was told she was in row five, which is where I kept looking, while she was actually in row eight. But I am told she stood up for the curtain call. I know it seems silly, but I really would have liked to actually see her.

In every film I've seen her in, she always strikes me as such a lovely, strong woman with such great presence. I wonder what she thought of the show? And of course the vain streak in me really wonders what she thought of my number. I guess I'll never know...

A Critical Sampling

Since arriving in Paris, there have been a great many articles about the show. Some mostly explain how it is, in fact, a show. They give an idea of the poetry of our circus and go on to mention the dates, venue and the like.

Then there are the actual reviews. Some have been good. Some, not so much. It all started with Mathieu Braunstein's review from Telerama that appeared this summer. This led to a month long upheaval of the show by the director. Doubt followed by change. Insecurity followed by more change. Frustration followed by the friendly request that the director kindly leave us the hell alone for a while.

There are a great many comparisons to the previous show, often considered to be the masterwork of this company. As you can imagine, coming in to a new production and constantly hearing how awesome the last show was is pretty hard to bear. Many reviewers lament the fact this show is not at the same level as the last. And yet, many people in the milieu of circus tell me they prefer this show to the last one. We often get feedback from the public via the company's website. Usually its people telling us that they simply had to tell us how much they loved the show. But there have been a couple of letters that went on to say how the show was a huge deception, that they will never come to see one of our shows again and that they will advise everyone they know to do the same.

Yikes.

Here are some excerpts from some of the reviews we have had since Paris. They are, of course, all in French. While I am fluent in French, there are certain turns of phrase that I have no idea how to adequately translate.

"Mais à vouloir trop parler de la peinture, les numéros s'éloignent du cirque et de la poésie habituellement à l'œuvre au Cirque. Pas d'esbroufe dans les portés, pas de trouvaille sinon musicale dans le jonglage, pas de surprise dans les sauts au trampoline. Seule KD, à la roue allemande, semble braver la gravité avec virtuosité et grâce." - Nathalie Yokel, La Terasse

"Le spectacle n'atteint pas la magie du précédent et sublime [previous show] - la faute à quelques gags et effets trop appuyés -, mais l'ensemble reste séduisant." - Christine Monin, La Vie

"Plus inégaux, les intermèdes humoristiques ont tendance à alourdir un peu la dynamique du spectacle et à mettre de la trivialité là où on espérait de la poésie. Et si certains font vraiment rire, d'autres - moins spirituels voire franchement lourdauds - semblent n'avoir pour seul but que de faire durer le spectacle. Résultat : on s'impatiente en attendant la suite. Une petite erreur de dosage qui altère un peu l'enchantement général." - Marine Polselli, Evene.fr

"Et bien sûr, il y a les numéros. De grande qualité technique et esthétique, ils sont assez ébouriffants. KD semble être née sur sa roue allemande, AN offre ses muscles noueux qui s’étranglent sur des sangles, nous proposant ainsi une très belle transposition de l’artiste maudit englué entre alcool et désespoir et enfin T jongle incroyablement, ses balles deviennent instruments de musique et s’harmonisent parfaitement avec le xylophone." - Stéphanie Richard, Theatreonline.com

"[…] KD virevolte dans sa roue allemande […]" - Myrto Reiss, Le Poulailler

"Populaire et référencé (à condition d'en avoir, des références, sinon, on passe à côté, mais ce n'est pas très grave !), le motif pictural, excitant à première vue, se déballonne comme une fausse bonne idée, un prétexte parfois cousu de fil blanc. S'approprier le geste du peintre, pourquoi pas, se faire encadrer comme un tableau, oui, bien sûr, mais à condition d'en opérer des traductions un brin moins plates que celles, très sympathiques au demeurant, proposées par le Cirque. […] Faire descendre une femme nue en chair et en os d'un tableau reste une jolie idée, mais un peu usée." - Rosita Boisseau , Le Monde

"De la peinture à la barbouille, n'y aurait-il qu'un pas ? Pour le Cirque [...] il semble bien que oui." - Rosita Boisseau, Le Monde

"Au final, le Cirque rappellent avec leur spectacle ce qu'est la peinture : une formidable machine à rêve." - La Tribune

"Numéro impressionnant et plein de grâce aussi de KD qui évolue sur une roue allemande." - Alice Serrano, France Info

"KD, un rien crâne dans son habit rouge, virevolte dans sa roue allemande avec une virtuosité à donner le tournis." - Didier Méreuze, La Croix

"II est des rendez-vous qu'on ne manque pas. Le Cirque en est un." - Didier Méreuze, La Croix

...

Please explain why there is a duck quacking outside my caravan at one o'clock in the morning...

That Was Pretty Good... For a Sunday

Sundays are hard. On Sunday, your body hurts. On Sunday, your mind checks out early (if it checks in at all). On Sunday, you just don't wanna.

Sundays are particularly difficult because we do a matinee. When I wake up Sunday morning, I can really feel that my body has had less than 24 hours to recuperate. In fact, by the time I get up Sunday morning, it's time to get ready for the show.

What happens is this: I wake up, stumble out of bed, do my hair, go do my pre-set, eat, do my make-up, go warm up and do the show.

Seriously.

Moreover, the audience is full of kids. This can either be great, or a pain in the ass. There are times when small children provide incredible energy with their unhindered laughter. They can also be chatty, obnoxious and distracting.

Ah, Sundays!

Plus, half the troupe heads home right after the show. I mean right after the show. I'm pretty sure that if they could, there are certain people who would skip the curtain call* and just get the hell out of Dodge.

But the most frustrating thing about Sundays is the general attitude among the troupe, myself included. Since its mostly kids and the elderly, not to mention the last show of the week, there's kind of a tendency to let the ball drop a little bit. I'm not terribly proud to admit it, but I have actually shouted "weekend!" after my act. There's a solid hour of show left after my act...

If the show went well, the reaction is "well, that was pretty good. For a Sunday." If it didn't go too well, we all seem to accept it with a shrug of the shoulders and a "it was a Sunday." And while that shouldn't be okay, and wouldn't be any other day of the week, we all kind of accept it.

After all, it's a Sunday.




* Since writing this, I have learned that an artist once did skip the curtain call... Bad form.

In the Middle

It has been six weeks since our mighty yellow big top arrived in Paris. In that time we have performed 30 shows to both rave and crushing reviews. We questioned the show, ourselves, and each other.

And we rehearsed...

We rehearsed, and rehearsed, and rehearsed...

We rehearsed to the point of sending the director packing because we just couldn't take it anymore.

There have been outbursts. There have been triumphs. And there most certainly have been losses.

Paris has been one helluva ride.

I'm not sure if its worth it to go back and write about all the things that have happened so far. In a sense, yes, because there were some trying times. But for the most part I've already summed up our first weeks in Paris nicely. There was a great deal of doubt, insecurity, and constant change. So much so that all of us in the troupe became utterly exhausted. Finally, we decided to leave well enough alone. Which is to say, we told the director to piss off. Now the show has begun to live. So there you go.

There are certainly a few points that I personally feel the need to address, but the drama? I know it can be exciting to read about, but I've had my fill and am ready to move on. But don't worry about it too much. I'm sure there will be plenty more to write about soon enough.

That's what happens when your life is a circus.