Willkommen, or, The Post that Became About Something Else Entirely

It should come as no surprise that as someone who does German wheel, I absolutely love Germany. I have no idea when or how it happened. My love of Germany is not at all like the love for my own country, or my love for Iceland, a country that completely ensnared my heart and soul. Nevertheless, my love for Germany is strong and is reaffirmed every time I visit. And you know all those dorky Facebook quizzes with names like "What should your nationality be?" or "From what country will your lover be?" It never fails, my result is always Germany.

When I finally hightailed it out of France my destination was clear: Berlin, Berlin, Berlin. Not only is it a city I love, but I have some friends from circus school working there at the moment. I cannot begin to tell you how good it felt to be with friends who go further back than my circus, to share stories about common friends, to fill in the blanks since the last time we were together, and to simply reminisce.

But the most important reunion of all was with a friend who had been in a terrible accident ten months earlier. He had been working in a variete in Berlin when he fell from his rope. Although witness accounts aren't clear (the artists weren't watching and the theatre isn't talking) the basic understanding is that he hit his head on a piece of decor while swinging, lost consciousness and fell to the floor. The damage was severe.

His story is personal, and I won't go into too many details about what he has struggled with since the accident. But what I can, and frankly, what I must say is that he is incredible. I don't think that I would be able to maintain the incredibly positive attitude he has consistently demonstrated. I don't believe that I would have the incredible strength to fight to regain what the accident took away from him. To see how luminous he remains, to see the hope, the strength, the determination... the force of will with which he radiates...

He inspires me, he humbles me, and most obviously, he reminds me of the grim reality that lurks in the shadows of this profession.

Yes, Berlin opened my heart and my eyes a little more. But like all good things, it couldn't last forever. And while it saddened me to leave, there were some very exciting opportunities waiting to be tackled on the other side of the country.

So Long, Suckers!

The end of Besançon was the beginning of a very important time for me. And that, my friends, would be time that I would not be spending in France. I had only been in the country for a mere two months, and already, j'avais marre.

There are a number of things about France that I find incredibly frustrating if not down right infuriating ("Spay or neuter my pet? That's cruel! I'll just drown the puppies!"*). After a month in a city that brought nothing but bad news and bad times, there was nothing I was looking forward to more than telling France to emmerde itself and then get the hell out of Dodge.

So off I went to one of my favourite countries to go visit friends, lift my spirits and get in on some serious wheel related goodness.

As soon as I crossed the border, a weight lifted from my shoulders and I to remembered how to smile.

Au revoir, Besançon.

Guten Tag, Berlin!




* I've encountered that same mind set from multiple sources, so don't go telling me I'm exaggerating.

The Second Surprise, or, Getting Kicked When You're Down

The news about the caravans had only just begun to sink in when a second blow was dealt to this this already aching heart.

C would be leaving the show.

I shouldn't have been surprised. She had been unhappy for a while and the rhythm and reality of our circus never really meshed with her own plans and dreams. Moreover, we had talked about her leaving while in Blagnac. But at that time, she wasn't quite ready yet. I suppose that's why, only a month and a half later, the news seemed so out of left field.

C leaving is huge for me. We go back further than our circus. We were in circus school together and hade done a couple of gigs together in the time since leaving school. She has been my rock. Words cannot begin to describe what having her along side me has meant. Our friendship's roots go deeper than the pickets of our circus' big yellow tent. It isn't the circus that comes first with her, and because of that, there is a trust and a protection that doesn't exist with anyone else in the troupe.

On top of some other personal loses of great importance, I was losing my home, and a best friend.

I don't remember when I last felt so utterly alone...

She will stay on until the fall. As such, I have a nice bubble of denial to live in. I can't even begin to imagine what will happen when she's gone for real.

Eviction Notice

Besançon marked a difficult period with my circus. Personal difficulties aside, there were also the multiple flu attacks, more changes to the show and a couple of other unpleasant surprises. The first of those unpleasant surprises was the notification that the company would no longer be bringing the caravans on tour.

I don't actually have a home in France. I have a mailbox that my mail goes to and other than that, I couchsurf. My caravan, the lovely oatmeal wagon, was the closest thing I had to a home in France. Et voila, now its gone.

This news was unsettling. But it became infuriating when I learned that the circus wasn't ceasing touring with the caravans. It was, in fact, only ceasing to bring mine.

I'm exaggerating. But only a little. They will in fact continue to bring three caravans on tour. That of the maintenance guy (understandable) and two for some of the founding members, or, the people who need it the least.

I have no home in France. C has no home in France. A stays with his girlfriend between dates but basically lives out of a suitcase. We actually lost something very valuable to us when they took our caravans away. It would have been one thing if they stopped completely, but to take the caravans away from those who depend on them and to continue carting around caravans for people to whom it makes absolutely no difference? Really?

A circus is a community. In a community, you want for people to feel welcome, to feel at home, to feel like they matter. Taking away the caravans felt like being flipped off with a simultaneous shrug of the shoulders.

C and I managed to bargain a second trunk for our belongings. Also, a number of things have been tossed into the caravans that will continue to go on tour. Bedding, pee buckets, etc... You may be wondering why we didn't fight. Why we didn't speak up. The truth is, by the time I learned that there would in fact be caravans continuing on tour, I was already resigned to the fact that I would no longer have one. I had made a certain peace with it.

In a lot of ways, it works out well. Before, I would have to think "Okay, I won't be back in the caravan for five months, what kind of clothes will I need in that time and what can I leave here?"

Now, everything follows me. I can pick and choose as I go and I only need to plan a reasonable two weeks in advance, not months. Everything is right there, all the time.

What I really don't get, though, is why they won't sell the caravans that are no longer in use. They say they won't use them anymore, and yet they would rather let them rot in some storage lot instead of selling them to interested parties.

I have learned that regardless of the company or organization, there will always be things that completely boggle the mind.

And now, dear oatmeal wagon*, we salute** you!

Paris, winter 2009

Salins-les-Bains, first research period, spring 2008

Besançon, the final days, spring 2010

* The brand of caravan is Gruau, which is the French word (in Canada, not France) for oatmeal.
** This is a super lame salute as it would seem that I have virtually no pictures of my beloved caravan.

The Floor II

As I've mentioned in a previous post the quality of the floor is very important for someone who works on the ground. Especially someone who does wheel.

Up until now, the Chapiteau has been brilliant. When we're under the big top I know what to expect. I know the floor will be even, I know I have all the space I need, I know all my marks will be there waiting for me. Yup, up until now the floor has been completely reliable.

Up until now.

Part of me thought that maybe I was imagining that the floor had become incredibly slippery. But after comparing notes with A, an acrobat who also relies on a proper, dependable floor, it was clear that the floor had become considerably less reliable. Of course, no one really cares about the whines of the acrobats. Not until something happens, that is.

It was a night like any other. I was doing the high speed spirals in my number, a move that I had been doing a lot less aggressively ever since my confidence in the floor had begun to waiver. But that night, I was really feeling it so I gave the amount of juice I would normally give.

That was a mistake.

In a high speed spiral, the angle to the floor is quite low. The floor, having lost all its grip, simply failed and the wheel slid out from under me. Sometimes you want the wheel to slide. But normally, it's for a specific move and the action of sliding is deliberately set in motion by the acrobat. Here, I completely lost control. I wasn't sure where I was in space, except that I was indeed close to the edge of the stage. When the wheel has that much speed and goes into a slide, it covers an impressive distance. The only thing I could do was put my free leg to the floor, thus burning my knee in order to "brake".

In creation, I had often said that if ever I lost control in that move (say, if I slipped on paint that was left on stage) I could very well take out all the musicians. I think they finally understood what I had been going on about. Except B who insisted that "they had eyes and could move". Sorry, B. But no one has reflexes that good. It all happened in an instant after all.

And so, after scaring the crap out of the director and technical director, the floor was to be repainted. Needless to say, the difference was night and day.

The floor after a year on tour:


The floor after being repainted:


The floor after I took the liberty of breaking it in:


Ah, what a difference a paint job makes...

Five Fingers

I have always maintained that I'm not one for shoes, although the amount of shoes I have in France fiercely contradicts that statement. As such, you can imagine how heart breaking it was for me to get to circus school and choose a discipline that absolutely requires shoes.

Sigh...

Well, all that has been made up for with the shoes we get to wear during the trampoline act in the show.

Behold! The Vibram Five Fingers!


The site describes them as a barefoot alternative. I would simply describe them as awesome. There are many scientific and anatomical reasons why being barefoot is really healthy and wonderful for you. But I will save that for another post. What is simply lovely about these shoes is that you get to experience the texture of the world, just like if you were barefoot, but without the risk of hurting the soles of your feet.

Yes, they are brilliant for many circus things like trampoline. They protect the foot, offer a nice, grippy, sole, and since it doesn't have a heel, there's no risk of turning an ankle. But let's be frank. They're just super cool.

I actually bought a pair for everyday life and happily wander around Montreal in them. You can't imagine how delicious it is to experience the texture of the world beneath your feet as you walk. And then, of course, there's all that scientific stuff.

As for the octopus (or quitapus if you're picky), like the skull and crossbones shoe laces, he was added for extra awesomeness. That and there was a hole on the toe.

The best part for all you Canadians out there is that, despite being the product of a European company, they are way cheaper in Canada! Simply head to your local Mountain Equipment Co-op and discover the glory of Five Fingers for yourself.

And that is the end of today's public service announcement.

We're Baaaaack!

After a month and a half break, some serious personal clutter removal, and a slew of exciting events, Kicking Sawdust is back in action!

I am currently in a teeny tiny village in the pre-alps with the family of a good friend. Other than cow gazing, there is very little to do here. As such, it is my hope to get all the posts I've been meaning to write written and up for your eyes to see!

Don't let the silence of the past weeks fool you, a lot has been going on.

So kick back sawdust style, the and delve back into the life of this traveling circus artist!