This is My JOB

As a circus artist constantly on the look out for the next contract, there's nothing more exciting than opening your e-mail and finding a job offer waiting. Even more exciting is when that job offer is somewhere far away that you've always dreamed of going! So when I opened my e-mail one morning to find an offer in India waiting for me, I was pretty stoked.

The excitement didn't last.

It only took a moment to realize that the same organization had written to me two years earlier only to stop replying after only a couple of exchanges. I always figured I asked too many questions. Silly me wanting to know what I was potentially getting into.

The e-mail itself was pretty vague. It wasn't addressed to me, it just expressed the organization's interest in "my show" and then went on to praise the event in question and listed many of the incredible acts that had graced their stage in years past. I figured there was no harm in looking into what they were proposing, and since they pretty much sent the exact same e-mail as they had two years previously, I sent the same reply I sent the first time seeing as I still had a copy in my archives.

That's when things got interesting.

Being a "student run non-profit organization", they couldn't actually pay me. They could provide accommodation and pay for travel within India, but that's it. They then listed all these incredible artists that had worked for them in the past and went on to add that none of them had charged any artistic fees.

Really? They were all down with working for free? I find that hard to believe.

So I looked up all the artists mentioned and messaged them. I only received a few responses but was basically told that it would be financial ruin, certain contractual agreements were not met, and not to bother.

Based on that feedback and the fact that if I wanted to foot the bill for a trip to India, I could just go there on vacation and not have to work, I decided not to continue negotiations. I was pretty annoyed with being asked to work for free, and seeing as they simply stopped communicating with me the last time, I didn't feel so bad about not replying.

And that's when I got another e-mail from them saying "We wrote to you about performing at our event. Kindly respond."

My response?

While I thank you for you interest in my work, I'm afraid I only consider serious job offers. What you are asking is that I spend thousands of dollars to volunteer at your event. This is my career, it's how I earn a living. I don't imagine you work for free, why should I? Your request is nothing short of disrespectful.

In case you're thinking that I snubbed my nose at some charitable organization just trying to do some good in the world, I should probably add that the event in question was a big tech extravaganza where the main events all involved robot fights. If you can stage an event with over 10 000 delegates, and everyone seems to have the cash to invest in building battlebots, you can damn well afford to pay the entertainment.

Hrmph.

Incredibly, I actually got a response to that e-mail. They apologized and were sorry if they hurt my feelings.

Well I'll be.

Intended Career Path

Why yes, my contract will be ending within the year. Why do you ask?

Worst Pep Talk Ever

On the way to my training the other day I ran into my old German wheel coach. I was, of course, met with the usual questions: "What are you up to? Where are you working? What are your projects?" Harmless though they may seem, when these questions don't come with flashy answers (in other words, confirmation of work), it always feels like when your parents or grandparents start pestering you about why you aren't married and when exactly you plan on changing that. Because finding work, like finding a partner and getting hitched, is just that easy.

But I fear I'm getting a little off topic.

For the time being, I still have work, so I was able to produce the right kind of answers. No, my troubles began when I mentioned that I've started static trapeze.

My coach: "Oh, so you're giving up wheel?"

Me: "Of course not! I don't think I could ever just give up wheel."

My coach: "Oh... because most people just quit since there's no work in it."

Far from going the way I thought my trapeze news would go, it quickly became the kind of conversation where your family or friends think you're announcing that you broke up with your partner, start confessing how much they hated the guy, and then he walks into the room to reveal that you're actually announcing your upcoming nuptials... oops.

I'm sure that I'm overreacting to a certain degree. I've got a lot going on and have been having a hard time keeping things in perspective. But I must admit, there's definitely some panic when I think about finding work after my contract is up, and considering how much more slowly my trapeze work is going than I had hoped, I've had some pretty ferocious moments of doubt about the whole endeavour. And knowing how hard it is to find work with wheel, and having struggled for two years to do so in the past, being told by my coach that most people just quit the discipline he taught me doesn't exactly fill me with hope.

I've said it before and I'll say it again, quel vie de cirque!

The Gap

I came upon this quote today quite by accident. It's a good thing I did, though, as these are words I very much needed to hear. I won't explain why just yet, but you can bet that all will be revealed sometime in the future. In the meantime, I hope you can take as much away from this as I have. All emphasis is my own.

"Nobody tells this to people who are beginners, I wish someone told me. All of us who do creative work, we get into it because we have good taste. But there is this gap. For the first couple years you make stuff, it’s just not that good. It’s trying to be good, it has potential, but it’s not. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, is still killer. And your taste is why your work disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase, they quit. Most people I know who do interesting, creative work went through years of this. We know our work doesn’t have this special thing that we want it to have. We all go through this. And if you are just starting out or you are still in this phase, you gotta know its normal and the most important thing you can do is do a lot of work. Put yourself on a deadline so that every week you will finish one story. It is only by going through a volume of work that you will close that gap, and your work will be as good as your ambitions. And I took longer to figure out how to do this than anyone I’ve ever met. It’s gonna take awhile. It’s normal to take awhile. You’ve just gotta fight your way through."   - Ira Glass

Tension of Opposites

As you already know, the job hunt has started anew. I've been in contact with over a dozen promoters, companies, and agencies and very slowly, the odd response is starting to trickle in. Nothing terribly promising or exciting, but at least an interest seems to be there.

The funny thing is though, I find it terrifying. Don't get me wrong. I want to work. That goes without saying. I want to keep traveling, I want to learn new skills, I want to keep growing as an artist. And yet when I find a reply waiting for me in my inbox, I'm scared to open it.

Even crazier, I had one agency reply with a lovely e-mail saying how they were very impressed with me and that they've already added my details to their database. They asked many questions and want more photos and videos. They seem genuinely interested.

I still haven't replied.*

This morning another agency contacted me saying that if they have any interesting offers, they will get in touch.

That was the entire e-mail.

I answered them immediately.

What the hell is wrong with me?

The non-committal reply gets immediate attention and the agency that seems like they really want to work with me is still waiting? Am I nuts?

No, I'm scared.

Non-committal feels like I've made some headway, but I don't actual believe anything will come of it so I feel safe. Bear in mind, I've been with the same company for three years. New is scary. Real possibilities reinforce the truth that my contract is coming to an end. Ends are also scary.

I want to continue working as a circus artist and I simultaneously want to settle somewhere and build a life. Which, I suppose, living out of a suitcase for three years will do to a person.

I suppose in the end, the real problem is the uncertainty. Right now, the only thing I see before me is a great black void. I don't think I'll be able to breathe easily again until I have a new contract and am physically there (wherever there happens to be) fulfilling it.

And even then, I'm sure I'll need a couple of days.



* Writing this post lit a fire under my butt. I have since written back.

The Quest Begins

It would appear that the date has been set. After three years with my company, the end of the tour has been announced. It looks like that the end of the line is a year and a half away.

That may seem like a really long time to you. But to me, it feels like tomorrow. And I am scared. In fact, I am freaking out. We're talking full out panic mode. That may seem unreasonable, but if you were to look at the upcoming tour, you'd likely be feeling the same way.

Yes, the show will continue to tour for a year and a half, but that doesn't mean we'll be working all that time. At the moment, the summer break is three months long. There's only one stop set for the 2011-2012 season so far, and perhaps four other potential dates.

That's it.

We may do as little as 80 shows next year. That's really not much to live on.

So I've started looking for work. Which has only added to the panic, really. Basically, if I don't get a reply by the next day (and of course I never do) I feel like that contact is a bust. I've contacted big companies, agencies on both sides of the pond, friends, acquaintances, the whole gamut. And while there are a couple of promising leads and even an audition, I must admit my hopes aren't all that high. I've been let down too many times before.

It took two years with virtually no circus work before I was hired by my company. I had to work in an abusive Polish bakery to make ends meet. And I'm finding that in the years since I've started doing circus (it's been almost 10 years!), I've lost a lot of my "follow your heart" attitude. I've considered changing careers, to something that is more of an actual career I might add, and find myself afraid that I won't be able to earn a living! I can tell you, 19 year old me that ran off with the circus didn't give that a second thought. Circus called, I answered, and my heart led the way.

True, I have more experience now. I also have a tour with a big name company under my belt. With glowing reviews of my act to boot. That's got to count for something. So if you or someone you know is looking for a wheel act, do give me a shout. Okay?

Thanks.

Ayoye...

Well hello there!

I haven't written in (over) a month and I'm sure you must be puzzling your puzzler about what I've been up to. Well, up until a week ago, the answer was nothing. I was still on vacation, still without a wheel, and pretty darned bummed about the whole of it.

To break up this monotony during this time off, however, I started having mad back pain for no reason at all. Just the Universe's way of keepin' it real, I suppose.

Also, I'm back in France.

As you can imagine, these things combined have not amounted to anything terribly good. The repercussions on both the show, my mental and physical health, not to mention my wallet, have been many and not usually good.

But all these lovely stories will come to light in due time. After a four day stint in Dole, we now have another two weeks off. And as much as I'd love to start to fill you in on the latest trials and tribulations of this saltimbanque, I'm afraid I have yet another doctor's appointment to attend.

Break's Over

Once again, I've fallen off the blogging bandwagon. In a lot of ways, I suppose its understandable. This blog is supposed to be about my experiences working as a circus artist and I'm somewhat on the underemployed side of circus these days. However, that is a reality of the modern day circus artist.

Some days (or months), there's just no work.

So it looks like I'm going to need to refocus the blog over the next month to reflect that.

Normally, in a situation like this, I would be training at the circus school, keeping my wheeling abilities up to scratch. However, as I am without wheel at the moment, that's not exactly in the cards. The good news is, a new wheel has been ordered! Its a real Zimmermann wheel from Germany too! They're the Cadillac of German wheels, if ever you're in the market to get one.

So, what's an acrobat to do? I've made up a work out (which I have been doing a very poor job of following), go for lengthy walks (more on that later) and will be participating in some fun classes!

In the end, it is just a month off. I figure I can keep fit and give myself a little vacation at the same time. I'm pretty sure that's how normal people do it.

Flashback I: It's the Apocalypse!

It was the last show of the week and we were all aching for our first days off since arriving in California. As we waited for our cue in the depths of the park basement, an unknown force was about to unleash total chaos.

Without warning, the lights went. Our immediate reaction was "Hooray!", quickly followed by "um... it's really dark down here..."

After about thirty seconds emergency lights came on and park employees started scrambling about trying to figure out what the hell had just happened, and also, to keep customers (and their wallets) in the park.

By this time, we had left the basement as it was time to start to show. Some measly power outage wasn't going to stop us! That, and we didn't really know what else to do. Almost as soon as we were back above ground we were told to head back to the basement. The power outage was park wide. Rides stopped and people were stranded. The folks on the roller coasters actually had to get out of the cars and climb down! Only one generator was operational and all its juice was going towards getting people off the stranded cable cars before they fried in the afternoon sun.

Meanwhile, in the basement, we were all very excited about the possibility of having the afternoon off and heading to the beach. After all, there was no music. And no music means no show! However, before we could get our hopes to high, a messenger came to tell us that yes, we would be doing the show, there would be no music, and for the love of god, make it longer and keep people in the park!

In other words, no pressure.

What followed was an extremely enriching experience that left me feeling very proud of my fellow acrobats and I.

I have never been one for street performing. I have huge amounts of respect for those who do it, and greatly admire those who do it well. Its just not something that I want to do myself. Fortunately, the opening act in the show is performed by a diaboloist and seasoned street performer. He set the mood brilliantly, working the crowd and setting the pace for the show.

Quick whispers between artists on stage meant improvised group scenes so that no one would be left alone on the silent stage. Songs were started randomly and the rest of the group joined in.

Most acts were extended and all seemed to somehow be upgraded.

The most impressive act of ingenuity would have to have been the improvised drum accompaniment to the simple wheel act. Using nothing but junk in the dressing room, we managed to put together a full out percussion section that flat out rocked it.

Then, during the big romantic moment of the show, the music miraculously came back on! Its true what they say, love overcomes all! Outstanding!

I don't think we ever did a more energetic show, nor were we ever more committed than we were that afternoon. And if the music coming back on right at the love song wasn't enough, the rides began to start up again just as the show ended. Incredible.

Needless to say, I learned a lot about thinking on my feet that day and working with what you've got. My only regret is that the music came back before my number. I didn't have a chance to pull off any skin-of-my-teeth showmanship. But judging by my experiences in circus thus far, I'm sure the opportunity will present itself at some point.

The Real Heroes

Our show has a rather ridiculous amount of accessories and props, most of which are either huge, heavy, or both. Not only that, but there are crazy set changes and more often than not, startlingly little time to do them in.

And we, the artists, being the spoiled lot that we are, are spared the majority of these inconveniences. Those tedious, cumbersome jobs are left to our stage technicians.

And if I may say so, our technicians are made entirely out of awesome.

All three of them.

That's right, I said three.

Our riggers work so hard, have such long hours (I think that right now they're probably pulling 13 hour days) and put up with so much merde... it's way above and beyond the call of duty. That is why I made them a big honkin' batch of chocolate chip cookies yesterday.

I have a huge amount of respect for riggers and technicians. I see how a lot of people treat them as glorified servants. I can't even name all tasks they're charged with. Not to mention all the tasks that probably don't fall under their jurisdiction but they have dumped on them any way. One morning not too long ago, the head stage technician, having just woken up, already had the director on his case for some new development. He had just stepped out of his caravan! Hadn't even had a cup o' joe!

I don't think its intentional, but I feel that very often in the performing arts, those who work on the technical side are treated as second class citizens. I can see how it tends to happen. You have the artists, so used to performing on stage, who naturally take the limelight and (this was particularly apparent when I was in theatre) have a slight tendency to bust out their inner divas.

But riggers and technicians are artists in their own right. And while the public may come to see the artists and the stories they have to tell, the truth is that without the technicians, there wouldn't be much of a show. The transitions wouldn't happen, there would be no costumes, no sound, no lights.

In this line of work, there shouldn't be a hierarchy, only partnership.

While this is slightly off topic, I can't help but share this video. Mike Rowe of Discovery Channel's Dirty Jobs gives an excellent talk about work, how society views work and how things aren't necessarily the way we've been taught.



No matter where you work or what your field of work, there is undoubtedly someone who's role is overlooked and undervalued, despite the fact that without them, there's a good chance things would run less smoothly. If you work in the circus, go thank your technicians, or better still, go talk to them without asking them for anything. If you don't work in the circus, I'm pretty sure you can think of someone who could use a little appreciation. The custodian, the maintenance man, or perhaps the barista who serves you the infusion of caffeine that gets you through the day...

Me? I have a plate of cookies to deliver.

Confession Time

I don't know if anyone has noticed this, but I tend to talk a lot about my personal experiences with show creation, but very little about the show itself. I'm not too sure why that is. Maybe its because during creation things are unclear and the show is still taking shape, maybe I've wanted to keep things under wraps, maybe I meant for this blog to more about my experiences as an artist...

Well, we're 19 days away from the premier (though only 13 work days) and I can't hold my tongue any longer.

We're not ready.

This show is not ready.

Who knows, maybe it will be. Maybe, in the next two weeks, things will miraculously fall into place. But as it is right now, we haven't done anything that resembles a run of the show, we haven't even blocked the show through to the end yet! There are technical aspects of the show that we have no idea how they're going to be done. There are numbers that have yet to be run in their entirety and some acts are still without music.

Although I'm told that last one happens often. And to be fair, if I had to spend all day in rehearsal, then go home and write 20 or so pieces of music, sometimes for things that don't exist yet (and if they do, could change at any moment), I'd probably be working down to the wire as well. Actually, I'd have gone AWOL ages ago. That's why I'm an acrobat and not a composer.

I have been sitting on my worry and following the troupe mantra of "have faith in the director" but I'm starting to run a little low on that faith. I have no idea what my role is in this show. Its hard to judge without having done an actual run through, but I feel like the show has no humanity. Its way too intellectual, way too serious and there are so many things that make no sense! I actually found myself thinking that if I just stopped demanding that things make sense, I'd be much happier. And that's a huge part of the problem. Right now, I'm not happy in what I'm doing. I feel like I'm being wasted and I haven't the slightest idea of how to change that...

I was so excited for this. Now I'm sitting all alone in a caravan in the middle of nowhere, France, writing things like "I was so excited for this" in a blog that two people read...

What the hell happened?

Sweet Surrender

You may find this hard to believe, but sometimes the best and most productive moments occur when you are completely and utterly exhausted.

There is a pretty obvious reason for this. You're too tired to think, too tired to feel, too tired to hold back and too tired to judge. Its this surrender that allows you to do, and to do so honestly. Its a challenging place to be, and certainly one that doesn't leave you inspired to work. But work you should and work you must, because good good things can happen...

Such was the case Friday morning.

By this point in the week, I was basically done. Physically I could work, though I'm not going to lie, my body was (and is) sore, tired and begging for mercy. But that's about it. The reserves of good will, artistic availability, and indeed, any kind of creativity, were very near empty. But I had my hour of training. The musicians were there. The director was there. It was time to work.

I knew exactly what I wanted out of that hour. Days before, I had planned it out. One run through cold (meaning no technical warm up before hand), setting the music, then another run through. It was an absolute necessity.

Well, as it turns out, the director had plans of his own. He wanted to do scenario BS or something. My wheel takes up so much space that there is no scenario. There are a couple of blank canvases in the background but that's about it. He comes up to me and tells me to focus on the "jeu", to forget the technique, that he needs to see I'm more than a gymnast (didn't you hire me because you saw I was more than a gymnast?), all kinds of crazy things that he needs.

Well you know what? I'm tired of being stepped on when it comes to my creative process. I'm tired of being told that the way I work is wrong, or not good enough. My artistic counselor at school made me believe that I didn't know how to work properly, but since leaving school, I have learned to have faith in my way of working and to have confidence that the way I work is not only effective, but is the right way for me to work. I'm not here to fulfill the artistic needs of others at the expense of my own. Not any more.

I tried to explain my needs to him, I tried to assure him that things will fall into place, that I know where I am in my process and that I know what I need. I tried to explain that a lot had changed and evolved since the last time he saw me. But I couldn't help but feel it was in one ear and out the other. So instead I said yes to his rules and played by my own.

I ran the number. It was the first run through since I since I finished the choreography, the first run through where I did all the technique, and the first run through where I had the stamina to be able to do all the technique. It was glorious.

The director came up to me and was all smiles, assured me that it would be super, was super. I received quite a lot of compliments from those who saw it. What a relief! But that doesn't change the fact that I need to run it another 98 times before we open. If only I could make people understand that.

German Wheel is a funny beast. Maybe its just me (and probably is it) but I feel that there can be no distinction between the artistic elements, the technical elements, and the theatrical elements. Everything is based on or around this unstable, heavy thing. The artistic is still technique, masking the struggle behind the theatre is also a skill to be developed. I need to work on all three things simultaneously otherwise the work I think I'm doing is of a much lesser quality and incomplete. In other words, with German Wheel its all or nothing.

Our rehearsal started late and went over time. I had still done only one run through. I had told at least three people involved that I absolutely wanted to do the number twice. The composer was about ready to go off to lunch, and I was so tired I could have easily let myself off the hook. But I kept hearing that voice that had insisted on two runs, and I put my foot down.

It was hard, but I got through everything again. In some instances, better than before. By the end, mind you, I had nothing left. I no doubt looked unhappy with the entire affair, but in truth, I was too tired to even smile. It takes a lot to reach that level of exhaustion, but let me tell you, it is one of the most wonderful and beautiful things to feel that you have given absolutely everything you had to give. And I have no doubt that that feeling of emptiness at the end of an artistic/physical feat is akin to the kind of bliss achieved through meditation. And what better way to refuel the soul than to make plenty of space for all the good things to come?