The Colour Purple

It should be common knowledge by now that, for me, one the most important aspects of any space we perform in is the floor. So it may surprise you to hear that I haven't a single complaint against this floor. In fact, it is by far the best floor I have ever performed on anywhere. It's super solid, perfectly level and for the most part, I don't even have to try. Everything just works. I'm so sad that we only had four shows here.

It turns out that this particular floor wasn't always like this. But there was a horse show in the theatre and the stage had to be reinforced in order to support the weight of the horses. So just a note to every other theatre out there: horse proof your floors! It's awesome!

Of course, no matter how good something is. There's always a catch. Fortunately for me, this catch doesn't really bother me at all.

You see, for some reason, when they redid the floor for the horses, they choose to colour it with a dye that can't come in contact with water. If it does, all the dye comes off. This is bothersome for our show since we fling paint everywhere. Only the theatre people neglected to tell our technicians that little tidbit until after they started washing the floor... oops...

But more than that, anyone who walks around barefoot on stage ends up with purple feet.

And it doesn't wash off.

Like I said, it doesn't really bother me, and compared to some, my feet aren't even all that purple. Not like M who walks around barefoot while soaking wet. Not only has the dye stained his feet, but he has left permanent footprints backstage where the dye has come off!

It's not quite as glamorous as the Walk of Fame, but at least now we can say we've truly left our mark.

Cooling Tower

You may be wondering why I've posted a photo of what looks like the cooling tower of an old nuclear reactor.

The answer is simple: this is not a cooling tower. It's a theatre.

More specifically, Le Volcan (The Volcano). Or as the locals call it, the pot de yaourt (yoghurt container).

This eyesore was designed by architect Oscar Niemeyer*, the same architect who designed the city of Brasilia. Apparently there will be one more show after ours and then the theatre will be closed for three years while undergoing renovation.

I'm actually being a little hard on the building. It really is quite interesting and inviting on the inside, and the staff is absolutely wonderful. As you can see in the picture below, the walls are curved like the outside of the building.

Plus, we stayed at a hotel right across the street! I could literally see the trucks of the circus reflected in my hotel mirror! Proximity is always a plus. If the theatre has any real flaws (aside from being on the ugly side of things) it's that there are no windows anywhere. But then, if you're working on stage or in the theatre itself, it doesn't matter where you are, that's always the case. You're just in the dark.

If you'd like to know more about it, this is a great site to bone up on your Volcan knowledge.






* Am I the only one who can't help but break into the Oscar Meyer Wiener song when I read this guy's name?

How Close?

I keep mentioning our proximity to the airport while performing in Geneva. But just how close were we? Well...

From the front of the Arena...

... you take the bend toward the artists' entrance...

... and just across the barrier...

Planes!

The Arena

Our time in Switzerland was so brief that even though I left three days ago, I still have people asking me if I'm there. Most of my time was spent in the arena, or else watching the planes take off. Performing in an arena was a first for my circus, and certainly an interesting experience.

 Geneva Arena, conveniently located at the airport!

The set up was tricky as there were no bridges, no stage, no nothing. Absolutely everything had to be set up, and quite a lot of the material had to be brought in or rented on site. Aerial points were rigged with high tension cables strung from one end of the arena to the other, and the was barely enough cable to do it. It was a lot of work, but I think everyone was pleasantly surprised (and relieved) at how smoothly things went.

That, of course, was a trap. When it comes to live performance, the gods of show business can't content themselves with smooth sailing. So they decided to throw a wrench into the works. Specifically, this guy:

Heh heh heh...

Initially, our sound tech was overjoyed to find himself in a space outfitted for rock concerts. But when the sound console failed and accidentally erased all the levels... well... that was less joyful. I don't know how many hours he spent fixing things, but I do know the musicians spent six hours doing sound checks and levels instead of the usual two.

 Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's how it went down.

Being a concert hall, we were all given awesome security clearance bracelets! One for each day! As ridiculous as this kind of stuff is, I'm always really excited about it and it makes me feel terribly important. And yes, I have saved all my accreditation from gigs past.

Excuse my paint covered hands, this was after a show.

As for the space? Well, there was definitely space. I don't think we've ever had so much room backstage. Or all around the stage for that matter. And while that was quite nice, the stage itself was so poorly constructed that every step sounded like a herd of elephants. And any acrobatics sounded like we were under heavy artillery fire by herd of elephants. 'What about for German wheel', you ask? The creaking sounds the stage made while I did wheel were so extreme that my initial reaction was that my wheel was literally coming apart. While that freaked me out quite a lot in the beginning, it was the later fear that the floor would collapse under the collective weight of the troupe and equipment that was most worrisome.

Aaaaaany moment now... 

But the biggest challenge?

The audience.

It's not that they were unresponsive. It's that we didn't think we'd have one. We're pretty much an unknown entity in Switzerland, so unlike in France, we can't rely on name recognition alone to fill seats. While we had initially planned on eight or ten shows, that number was cut down to three. And a few weeks before we opened, we were told to invite as many people as possible to make sure we'd have a public.

Yikes.

In the end, those worries proved unnecessary. The seats got filled, the audience loved it, and there are even whispers of a possible return across the border.

I just hope we make it in time for this...

Geneva!

Ladies and gentleman, for the first time ever, my circus is performing in Switzerland!

However, our grand Swiss debut is hardly the bells and whistles affair we would have liked for it to have been. The reason for this is that we're performing in an arena...

at the airport...

I know the above picture isn't that great, but it really shows just how close the arena (the building on the right) is to the airport (just opposite that barrier, note the plane taking off).

I have a feeling this is going to be interesting...

Just When You Thought It Was Safe to Go On Stage...

You know those movies where the nice young family moves into a beautiful dream home only to find out that it was built on the site of some horrific massacre that forever cursed the land and anyone who dared come near it?

That's kind of what this stage is like.

As usual, one of the first things I checked out upon arriving at the theatre was the state of the floor. While it's most important to do this with the wheel, a quick walk around will give me a pretty good idea of what I'm going to be dealing with. As of late, there hasn't been too much to smile about.

But this floor... this floor was magic. Perfectly level, not a single discernible seam or bump, very solid, very hard. Plus it has a marley covering so a nice grip on the floor seemed a sure bet.

Whenever we arrive in a new city, we have a meeting to discuss any news as well as the schedule leading up to the dress rehearsal. There are a few things that need to be done in every city and wheel is usually one of them. Testing the floor is standard procedure. However, we're pretty swamped with other rehearsals at the moment as L has just been replaced in the show and her replacements (she's so awesome she needed two people to replace her!) need the stage time. Seeing as the stage seemed so incredibly glorious, I opted to give up my training time to more pressing matters.

Cue the ominous music...

Oh floor... how could you have mislead me so? Haven't I dealt with enough shitty stages lately? Couldn't you have just been as awesome as you seemed?

This floor is a monster. A monster that lives on momentum, energy and speed. It sucks the life out of all things that roll. Which is, as you can imagine, pretty disastrous when your apparatus is a giant wheel...

I first noticed something was off when I made my entrance. I do a couple of freehand rotations, nothing terribly challenging for me. Normally I don't even feel like I'm trying and the wheel just goes. This time, the wheel wasn't going quite as fast and a movement that for me is like walking suddenly felt a little like work.

Hm...

Then, move by move, line by line, the reality of my situation hit home. It didn't matter how hard I pushed or how much speed I gave, it wouldn't be enough. On some moves, I fell. Others, I barely made. The rest, I didn't even bother. Looks like I needed a little stage time after all...

So the next morning, I trained. And I soon realized the situation was worse than I thought. Not only did the floor devour whatever energy you put into it, it was inconsistent. One move might prove near impossible, another would be unbelievably easy. And there's no logic in which is which.

During the show, I would push 15 times harder on one move and barely make it. I would give everything to another one and almost go over. My instincts and knowledge of my discipline are suddenly worthless to me. I'm convinced I'm too fast (and under normal circumstances I'm sure I would be) and adjust accordingly only to come a hair's width from bashing my head on the plates. Nothing like a good fall to set to the tone of an act. I do the move again, giving even more speed. I'm sure that this time I'm going to go over, but no, I only just make it. At least I've learned to work a crowd and gloss over those kinds of moments, but still...

It makes no sense. Not only do I feel lost on stage, but my mind is working overtime trying to calculate what needs to be done, and my body becomes increasingly more exhausted and at an incredibly alarming rate.

I'm sure I'll get used to it in time, but we only have three more shows here. Either it won't be enough, or it will be just enough to screw me up completely the minute I get on a different surface. I'm guessing the latter.

I know it's silly, but part of me wishes I could explain the problem to the audience. I wish I could tell them that I'm normally much better but this floor is sucking the life out of me. I wish I could tell them that the fact that I can even do an entire German wheel act on this floor proves how good I am. I wish I could do things because nothing is worse than feeling embarrassed by your work.

But I can't do any of these things. So tomorrow, I will train again. And come tomorrow night, we'll see if I have tamed the beast.

Flood in the Theatre!

Okay, not the entire theatre. Just one floor.

Though that did create a kind of waterfall in the stairwell... and also the elevator shaft...

So yeah, I meant what I said.

Flood in the theatre!

 At this point, clean up was already well underway.

Stage Lava?!

Uh oh!

My Favourite Theatre

Over the duration of the tour, we've played in a wide variety of theatres. Some were wonderful. Some made you want to cry. But I think the last theatre we performed at will likely be the best theatre of the entire tour. I kind of miss it already...

Firstly, the hotel was probably only 200m away. I know that doesn't have anything to do with the theatre itself, but the theatre we played at before this one was 6km away from the hotel. The bus stop for the theatre was perhaps 15 minutes away on foot. That mostly meant spending the entire day at the theatre and being completely dependent on others to get home at night. Not so great.

I could actually see the theatre from my hotel room window! Plus the rooms were huge, kettle equipped, and came with a bathtub. Nice!

Nice view, eh? The theatre is just down the street to the left.

But back to the theatre...

The inside of the theatre was beautiful. The colours, the construction, and especially the starry ceiling.

But true mark of greatness was the hospitality. You'd have thought we were famous! For the first time ever, I had my very own dressing room. We were each given a little rose bush and chocolates the night of the premiere.

 

In the artist lounge, there was a tea and coffee station, a selection of cold drinks (ce tea, coke, perrier, juice...), yoghurts, cheeses, a basket of mini chocolate bars, a selection of better quality chocolate, cake, dried fruit, fresh fruit, rice cakes, nuts, choquettes, and probably some other goodies that I'm forgetting.

We had two cocktails while we where there. Each time there was so much food! In Nevers, the cocktail was made up, I kid you not, of chips and candy. Here we had samosas, soup, cheese, bread, quiches served on trays by the staff, cured meats and an array of desserts. Plus, unlimited beverages!  Let me tell you, they knew how to throw a party...

Then there was the laundry... Unlike any other theatre we've ever been to, this theatre had a full time costume woman working there. And if you wanted to do any laundry, she wouldn't let you. This may seem bad at first, but when I say 'she wouldn't let you', what I mean is, she insisted on doing it herself. I only had my laundry done once because I felt like I was abusing something, but I can assure you that my cast mates were hardly as timid.

On top of all that, the city was really nice. Not too big, lots of pedestrian areas, and quite a lot to see. True, the public was a bit odd... they weren't terribly responsive during the show, but they were always pretty loud at the end. So it all worked out.

The next stop on tour brings us back to the North of France. Which reminds me... I have no idea how to get there. I might want to get on that seeing as I leave tomorrow.

Nevers Ever Again

The last few days have found my circus settled in a small town in the middle of France by the name of Nevers. I, for one, cannot wait to leave.

Don't get me wrong, the town is lovely. I get to walk by the Loire river on the way to the theatre every day. The hotel we're staying at has huge beds with big comfy comforters...

So what's the problem?

The theatre itself.

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here

Upon entering the theatre, I felt like I was visiting a penitentiary, or perhaps descending into the basement to meet Hannibal Lector. It's dark, cold and decaying. For reasons I truly cannot understand, there are no toilet seats...

But what makes this theatre truly unbearable is the floor.

Remember that time I was in La Rochelle and bitched about the floor? I take it all back. I mean, everything I had to say about the floor and the importance thereof remains true, but compared to the floor here in Nevers, the floor in La Rochelle is suddenly looking a lot more attractive.

How bad is it? Before I even finished putting together my wheel I had every single stage technician warn me about the floor. And while I can't see just how bad it is due to the dance mat that covers the stage, I certainly can feel it. And the theatre staff isn't terribly helpful on the matter either. All they can offer is "Yeah, it's pretty bad. And the area where you perform is the worst." And while theirs is the kind of floor that should be changed every 10 years, it is still the original from 1973.

The night of the run through was a disaster. If I didn't mess up a figure due to the wheel hitting some random bump or pot hole, I would have to stop and step out of the wheel to readjust its angle so as not to hit someone or something because the bumps and pot holes changed the axis of the line. I was, and still am, scared to do anything on this floor. I have no control and even with marks indicating where I should start, if I'm off by even a few millimeters, well, then its anyone's guess as to how it will go.

The first thing the director said when the dress run was finished was "So what time are you working on wheel tomorrow?" As if I didn't already know how badly it had gone...

So I spent three hours changing the act, substituting technique, rearranging sequences and hoping for the best. It wasn't as simple as just putting in easier tricks. One of the moves I messed up the night of the dress run was one of the easiest I do. But the wheel shifted, threw me to the side, killed the momentum and left me out to dry...

The first days in Nevers made me hate wheel. And even with the changes I dread doing my act. Having changed so much of the number is stressful and sometimes I get completely disoriented on stage. Suddenly realizing you started going the wrong way is hard to cover up when you're manipulating a 100lb steel wheel...

But no matter how bruised or discouraged, the show must go on. Thank the stars above that the run in Nevers is only four shows.

And just to prove I'm not exaggerating...




And remember, the part where I perform is worse than this...

One more show... just one more show...

Uhh...

Is it supposed to do that?

Class

If there was one word I would use to describe the theatre in Heerlen, it would be class. We've played at some wonderfully welcoming theatres in the past. La Rochelle and Saint-Quentin-en-Yvelines immediately come to mind. But Heerlen pulled out all the stops and is officially the best theatre ever. Even without the exceptionally well-chosen decor, the Parkstad Limburg Theater really went above and beyond.

The theatre, for one, was gorgeous and really quite spacious. Every time we arrive in a theatre, I'm always a little nervous about the kind of space I'm going to have. On stage and in the wings. Here, I didn't even need to have roll my wheel into place when the time came to do my act. There was so much room I could just set her right where I needed her! And considering the size of the stage, I suspect I'm going to find the next theatre, and certainly the tent, a little cramped come show time.


But of course, its the little things that really define an experience. The theatre provided meals for us throughout the festival, and a special show-themed decor, complete with poster and props, was the centerpiece of the buffet table. Certain dishes were even presented on painter's palettes!



Even the main entrance was specially decorated for our stay! Those are genuine replicas of paintings created during the show.



And on opening night, every person was presented with a sunflower during the curtain call. Boys being boys (i.e. abandoning their flowers in the hall), the girls scooped up some extra flowers for our dressing room.


The theatre technicians were also immeasurable lovely. We're talking taking-over-some-of-my-cues and offering-to-order-heating-pads, lovely. The head technician took pictures one night and put them on CD (with cover image) so that every one in the troupe could have them. We ate together, went out together, and I dare say put on a damn good show together!

But the the real mark of an extra mile is helping someone out when they're no longer your 'responsibility'. As I have no home in Europe, I often linger. In Heerlen, I lingered almost two extra days. A cast-mate checked out of the hotel early so we tacked her unused day to my room, but the following day I had a full afternoon of bumming around to do before my train left. No one wants to be bogged down with a suitcase while hitting up the town, and the theatre was kind enough to hold on to it for me while I went shopping.

And did I mention we also got free t-shirts?

Every other theatre we will ever play in, take note! This is the bar to which you must rise!