Cascade 004 - 1985

There's Something In The Air¶

"A happy juggler sings and dances
just like Fred Astaire.
There's something in the air.
If happiness was business
he would be a millionaire.
There's something, something, something,
something, something in the air."

This is the third verse of the song by the Copenhagen juggling group Jonglører mod Tyngdekraften, who invited people to the Nordic Juggling Meet from May 3rd to 5th.

There seems to be something to it in Copenhagen – something in the air: When we first unpacked our props in the pedestrian zone to earn our travel money, coins rained down from the sky before we had even started. But there was more in the air – namely, the clubs and balls of other jugglers doing the same thing as us. The typical signs... there's something in the air here...

Following the breeze, we landed in Erik and Susanne's small apartment for the first reception: tea, more jugglers, "Hello, you're here too?", help finding sleeping arrangements, news, laughter, coziness. This was the first impression, which remained throughout the days: warm, cozy, intimate, familiar.

Things really kicked off on Friday. The three halls filled up very quickly, and soon it looked as if juggling had always been the only thing happening there. The Copenhageners were overwhelmed; they hadn't expected so many people ("Good thing we rented the third hall at the last minute"). Over 150 people came, a few from Sweden and Finland, but many more from Germany, England, and of course, Denmark.

It was a fantastic idea to serve a delicious, homemade vegetarian meal for everyone for free on Friday evening, which, judging by the enthusiastic smacking applause and the "catch-up queues," tasted great to everyone.

Saturday featured the traditional parade through the city – a bit wet and cold at times, but all the more fun for it – and the games on Kultorvet. One of the games was "Ice Cube Juggling," and last winter's Copenhagen record was broken with 9 minutes and 5 seconds.

Of course, various workshops also took place. Acrobatics, diabolo, devil stick, club swinging, multiplex... What impressed me most was that almost all the workshops were led by members of the Copenhagen juggling group. They can clearly do more than just organize well.

Saturday afternoon saw the exciting preparations for the evening show begin. Who performs when, lighting, announcements, music, chaos. The result was a great, fun performance, which was just as exciting and thrilling to watch as it was to participate in. As a special attraction, Jongløre mod Tyngdekraften (20 of them) opened the program with their famous song "There's something in the air," to the well-known melody of "Jeg har aldrig fået noget" (?!). Afterward, everyone headed to a nearby party where they danced and celebrated until the early morning (and didn't juggle!).

The entire meet showed that jugglers have much more in common than just juggling. Just as juggling patterns were tried out in new constellations, groups of people sat cozily in corners or at coffee tables in the foyer, sharing stories.

Sunday brought the usual sleepy start to the "business meeting," which got going with the usual heated discussions about the IJA's benefit for Europe. In the end, there was a huge round of applause for the organizers, who had also gone to the trouble of typing up all the addresses and compiling a small newspaper about the meet.

The "Throw-Up Times" was distributed to everyone, and the big goodbyes began. Everyone departed, somewhat exhausted from the euphoria of the past few days and the last night... but something remained in the air...

The best part is that the Copenhageners are already inviting everyone back for next year, from April 25th to 27th.

It would be wonderful if more people would consider organizing a small "regional" meet, with a large juggling hall and a cozy café.

G.H.

Below: Søren Agger & Henrik Lehmann,
Copenhagen.
Bottom left: Die Kapriolen, Wiesbaden.
Photos: Werner Lüft

Circus School Report¶

In response to high demand, here is a brief summary of some schools that can help you develop your show beyond juggling and incorporate other circus and performance arts. It was compiled from information sent out by the schools themselves and from comments by Henrik Bothe from Denmark, who compares the various options with the goal of enriching his juggling show with "theater arts."

ÉCOLE NATIONALE DU CIRQUE¶

Centre National Supérieur de Formation aux Arts du Cirque

This school sees itself as an institution of higher education (i.e., a kind of circus university). It is primarily intended for French nationals, although foreign students are accepted in certain cases. You must be over 16 and have some acrobatic (or at least athletic) experience. And you must pass a rigorous entrance exam.

The training itself is free, but you must pay for your accommodation in a student dormitory, where you are required to live for the first two years.

The basic disciplines are: Acrobatics (apparatus and floor), drama and clown techniques; artistic riding (including acrobatics on horseback); dance (classical, modern, expressive); music; circus techniques. In addition, you will learn: history of circus and art, foreign languages, anatomy and physiology, sociology and labor law, and further: how to put together acts (directing, costumes, makeup...).

After the first two years, you can specialize for the final two years, depending on whether you want to perform yourself or teach the arts.

The "exam" is a public show where a jury evaluates the routines the students have put together.

After graduation, the school tries its best to place you in the world of circus and entertainment and monitors your progress in the entertainment business for the first two years.

In line with the general traditionalist approach, discipline is strict: "Professional practice in the circus requires precision and punctuality, iron discipline, physical 'hygiene,' and the utmost attention to safety regulations."

This school opens in September 1985, so there are no reports of personal experiences. But it sounds like you would have to be pretty good to get in, and very committed to get through the course.

L'Ecole au Carré¶

This is another traditionalist school that demands absolute commitment from its students. The courses in the circus department (there is also a mime department) last at least two years. In the first year, students learn the basics of floor acrobatics, classical dance, tap dance, fencing, and general circus arts. When you advance to the second year, you are encouraged to work on a performance in a specific area, one of which is juggling.

As an added bonus, you can watch top professionals train during the winter months.

Before you read on, it should be mentioned that the upper age limit is 23! Only 25 new students are admitted each year, and fees are charged: 500 Francs for the first month (probationary period), 600 FF for each of the next two months, and then 1800 FF per trimester. Finding accommodation in the center of Paris is up to you.

Ecole Nationale du Cirque¶

Also known as the Fratellini School, named after founder Annie Fratellini. The school has a large tent (with heating in winter), a dance studio, workshops for crafts, and a riding arena. They offer separate courses for different age groups.

Section "C" is open to anyone over 14 years old. It offers full-time training (9 am-5 pm, Monday-Friday) and leads to official "certificates" and comprehensive competence in every possible skill needed for work in a small circus.

This means there are not only courses in dance, acrobatics, tightrope walking, juggling, trapeze, clowning, and horse acrobatics, but also in decidedly practical matters such as carpentry, metalwork, painting (sets and circus wagons), setting up and dismantling circus tents, accounting, and French. All of this costs 400 FF per month, plus mandatory insurance of 300 FF per year.

Section "D" offers afternoon courses in dance, acrobatics, tightrope walking, juggling, balance, trapeze, clowning, and horse acrobatics. There are also evening courses in dance and acrobatics, and Henrik told us that you can also use the tent for your own training for 200 FF per month.

The Commedia School¶

Circus arts are also taught here, but they are in a different tradition. Ole Brekke, the director, says:

"The Commedia School emphasizes popular theater forms. In these forms, actors use their own unique style of communication with the public.

The course of study leads each student to find and develop their own style of play through intensive study of many types of physical expression, beginning with silence in an empty space.

Mime, movement, movement analysis, improvisation,
acrobatics, juggling, pantomime, combat,
slack rope,
masks metaphysical, character, larvae,
masks from waste

Students discover their own spontaneity and creativity as artists while developing performance material for these well-known theater forms:

Clown, storytelling, melodrama,
Commedia dell'arte, and juggling

The school was founded in Stockholm in 1978 by Ole Brekke with 8 students. It has since grown into a two-year program with 40 students from all over Europe.

25 students are admitted each September for the first year. Graduates of the school work in all performing arts fields, including circus."

In the next issue of Kaskade, we hope to continue the report with information about other schools. If you have any information, please send it to us. We would be particularly interested in hearing from students, graduates, or teachers with insider stories about life as an artist apprentice at a circus school.

For more information, application forms, etc., you can write to the following addresses:

Centre National Supérieur de Formation aux
Arts du Cirque,
1, rue du Cirque,
BP No. 58
F-51006 Chalons-sur-Marne,
France

L'Ecole au Carré,
Centre de Formation aux Arts et Techniques
du Cirque et du Mime,
106, rue Brancion,
F-75015 Paris,
France

Ecole Nationale du Cirque,
2, rue de la Clôture,
F-75019 Paris
France

The Commedia School,
Ole Brekke, Director,
Søliljevej 46
DK-2650 Hvidovre,
Denmark

P.K.

The Rules of the Game¶

Whatever your reason for juggling, you know the fascinated reaction of people watching you for the first time.

The juggler is a primal figure, closely related to the magician and the rogue. People are fascinated by the "magical" activities and often assume you also have an unusual lifestyle or worldview.

Well, you might not consider your life unusual (perhaps you're a normal working person with a slightly eccentric hobby), but you will still attract the attention of your neighbors.

Juggling is an expression of patterns and order, and so it is often associated with god-like qualities of power and control over chaos. Many street shows I've seen use a clownish, chaotic style, with props scattered and grabbed randomly to create a temporary model of order in a chaotic environment that the performer doesn't quite control.

When the circus emerged, it became the perfect forum for jugglers. The big top brought wind and light under control while helping to focus the audience's attention. Traveling brought them before new audiences, which is important for short, difficult variety acts because such numbers cannot be changed as easily as a singer and joke teller can.

The precision of juggling acts and other displays of skill and courage seen in the circus are all expressions of mastering a difficult and unpredictable world. The heroic and possibly tragic displays of valor can leave the audience feeling inferior, or they may not be impressed enough to properly appreciate the work involved. There is a character that contrasts with superheroes, namely the clown.

The juggler and the tightrope walker demonstrate an understanding of the Newtonian world of physics, transforming possibilities into probabilities, and finally reducing them to practical facts.

We don't go to see them fail, but we must remember that possibility to be excited.

For the artist, it is best to highlight the difficulty and sometimes mystify a simple process, while being sure that they will succeed with their chosen task and then return to their trailer as usual.

We like to see that the world can be organized and predictable, as we so often fail to control things as skillfully as we would like.

Part of the clown's job is to play us as we often are in reality.

That is, he takes on the role of the beginner, and accidentally gets into something difficult or dangerous. Usually, these types of clowns are played by a member of the main troupe, even if they might come from the audience in perfectly normal street clothes.

Later, they shed the clothes to admit that they are secretly special. This erases our last doubts or fears and allows us to honor the hidden abilities.

Precisely because the catastrophes are predictable, we can see what can go wrong for the beginner on the trapeze or the one who (supposedly) tries juggling for the first time. Knowing what will happen when they try certain things makes us laugh when they attempt them.

Another side of our world is called "chance." For the beginner, the recalcitrance of objects, or people, or the laws of nature makes life difficult. Everything that can go wrong, does go wrong.

The clown is redeemed from this tragic world by happy accident, beginner's luck, the enchanted life, the happy ending where everything undeservedly resolves into well-being.

Most of the time, this mystical outcome, where the clown manages everything, doesn't seem to surprise the clown, as he believes he did it intentionally and can do it again.

The audience knows that the clown could not replicate the difficult tricks without years of practice. The clown sees everything as a continuous magical moment and often surpasses the efforts of the hard-working serious performer through "luck." If he fails, he is simply surprised why it doesn't work by sheer force of will.

If an entire show consists of infallible performers, the audience should be impressed, but they may also simply feel stupid or inferior. Clowns allow the audience to feel superior, but they can also show how limiting serious thoughts and reasonable expectations can be.

Since all characters are in the same group, we recognize that they do not contradict each other but are complementary poles.

We see the interaction between order and chaos, safety and risk, authoritarian figures and anarchists, social systems and individuals, control and spontaneity. There are people who play with the laws of nature, like the juggler, and people who improvise solutions to unknown situations, like the clown.

We see the connection between play and seriousness. Civilization and reasonable values are confronted with the paradoxical natural order or magical world of gods, children, animals, and jugglers.

Theater, film, and television create a two-dimensional illusion of reality, and just like paintings, you have to view them from a certain point to get the full effect. Circus and street theater are three-dimensional, like sculptures, to be viewed from all sides, with nothing hidden. They are a theater of actuality. In the circus, the great themes of comedy and tragedy are played out in earnest.

The social fear of embarrassment or shame is contrasted with the juggler's ambition. The bitter reality of injury and death is transformed into flying dreams by skilled acrobats.

In contrast, the unpredictable, unreliable world of the clown proves to be much more similar to the clumsy, disordered world we all live in.

For a satisfying show, whether in the circus or on the street, or even in the theater, it is best to let these two opposing characters play. We need to see both, discipline and spontaneity.

I am sure that the success of the public shows at the last few juggling meets was due to the glorious mix of these elements. I hope you have a lot of fun performing, whatever mask you use to hide the hard work involved in learning the technique, whether for juggling or clowning.

Toby Philpott

Juggling and Health¶

Where Does It Hurt?¶

Since I enjoy juggling (though not well) and work in occupational medicine, I'd like to address the medical side of juggling a bit.

I'm interested in reports from all jugglers about:

a) potential health impairments from juggling and related arts (e.g., back muscle strains from overly hasty movements without warm-up exercises; shoulder joint problems when "doing numbers"; injuries when juggling clubs, burns from fire torches, etc.)

b) all the positive physical, mental, and emotional changes that occur during juggling (e.g., greater dexterity and catching ability; relaxation, recovery, and fun; increased reaction speed; broadening of one's perspective; development of the skill to better visualize spatial, complex movements, etc.)

I would appreciate any communication via postcard or letter, or in person in Louvain La Neuve. Perhaps, based on preliminary findings, a targeted questionnaire can be designed (sent out, evaluated, etc.), which should ultimately serve three goals:

1. To provide guidance for juggling training/practice without health impairments.

2. To identify factors that make one more susceptible to impairments/damage from juggling.

3. To offer therapeutic advice if complaints arise from juggling.

Reports on the positive effects of juggling are also important because one could then try to research them more precisely.

I look forward to numerous written and verbal communications!

Herbert J. Zimmermann
Backhaushohl 47
D-6500 Mainz 1

Juggling as Therapy¶

by Ali (Physiotherapist and Cardiff Balls Up Juggler)

As jugglers, we all notice the psychological and physical benefits of throwing and catching whatever we can get our hands on. But juggling is also slowly being recognized in other fields as a useful form of rehabilitation. In several hospitals in England and Wales, juggling has been integrated into patients' daily activities.

It began when a juggling group formed in Cardiff with the help of Toby Philpott, which included, among many others, several occupational therapists.

Since then, these jugglers have gained employment in a number of hospitals and are slowly convincing those in charge of the British healthcare system that they are not eccentric (well, not entirely, at least) and that juggling truly has something to offer the patients mentioned above.

We have used juggling in psychiatric clinics with patients who have behavioral and motivational problems, as well as those in psychotic and depressive states, to improve coordination, concentration, and physical fitness, while simultaneously giving patients a concrete sense of accomplishment (i.e., feeling great after learning a new trick).

Personally, I have gotten a group of elderly people, who previously did nothing but sit in their armchairs all day, to throw and catch beanbags in the air and to each other.

We have juggled with mentally handicapped and Down's syndrome children, who may not progress far and learn slowly in general, but enjoy every minute of it.

In physiotherapy groups for hand and shoulder injuries, simple and childish games were previously preferred, including throwing and catching a single beanbag, sometimes for a group of six or eight people. Adult patients usually found these games boring and silly. Introduce juggling, and you can still train the same muscles and joints, but it also gives the patient a goal to work towards, and brings more interest and fun.

As you can see, juggling has many benefits, including breaking the monotony of a hospital stay, and most importantly, as we all know, it's FUN!

Bet You Can...¶

I would like to send out a challenge to all jugglers.

Who can keep nine balls in the air at once? I believe there is a Black American who spins 8 basketballs. By September, I hope to be able to spin 10 balls.

Having such an ambitious goal doesn't take away all the joy of training; rather, it's a motivation to accept that one must put up with less fun if one wants to reach a "top level."

Francois Chotard, Murs-Erigné, France

The Happy Person¶

Heinrich Dreesen, Bremen (photo) found the following text in the book CIRCUS by R. Bart and M. Cortesi, Schweizer Verlagshaus, Zurich 1970

PETER BICHSEL on the "Happy Person"

The juggler is the ultimate stage of the magician. When the magician pulls his rabbit out of the hat, I know there's a trick involved. With the juggler, the skill is completely open. He does something that is visible and possible. It makes sense to me that one can have a number of balls in the air simultaneously. Only: I can't do it.
I remember the film "The Crimson Pirate." Burt Lancaster and Nick Cravat play with a hand grenade. They throw it back and forth, drop it, and catch it just before it hits the ground. They overcome the danger of the hand grenade with their skill. The hand grenade is made ridiculous by the skill. The juggler, with his skill, actually overcomes the danger of everyday life. The juggler is a happy person. Nothing can happen to him. I have this feeling when I see such acts. The juggler seems to me to be a free man; he controls the objects.

This reminds me of something: If you watch a GI in Germany light his cigarette, he does it with five extremely skillful movements: he flicks open his lighter with one hand, simultaneously runs his thumb over the wheel, lights it, and snaps the lighter shut with two more complicated grips. If he used both hands, it would be much faster, but far less elegant. So he doesn't prioritize having a light as quickly as possible, but mastering the lighter. Our world is full of such movements: one moves particularly elegantly in a bar, lets the whiskey splash into the glass from a particularly high height, holds the glass in a special way. When rolling dice, one uses a very specific technique to get the dice back into the cup, and even then, one doesn't use the other hand, although it would be much easier. One wants to master the objects; one pretends to be free. The juggler does this with ultimate perfection.

Book Review - War of the Dreams¶

This is a story for juggling science fiction freaks. In the foreword, the author thanks the Flying Karamazov Brothers for technical advice, and throughout the book, you can recognize some of their acts.

The plot is a moderately exciting fairy tale, with fascinating descriptions of fantastical landscapes, in which an unjustly deposed king is taken in by a group of traveling jugglers who form the basis of the army with whose help he reclaims control of the planet Majipoor from the evil usurper.

Majipoor is inhabited not only by humans but also by various other beings, including giant, hairy creatures with four arms called Skandars. What else would a Skandar family, equipped with this natural advantage, do but form a juggling group?

Aside from the amusing nonsense of the story, the "seriously" interesting part for a juggler is how the group relates to its audience: sometimes they share the pleasure with the spectators, but other times they have to prostitute themselves to culturally oversaturated patrons who pay them a fee but pay little attention. Many traveling jugglers will recognize the financial and artistic difficulties – although you probably never faced an audience of metamorphs who assumed your exact body shape and parodied your show. (Or is this a hint at those sneaky jugglers who steal others' ideas?)

Also of interest is the description of the hero Valentine's first learning attempts in his new trade. If you've forgotten what it was like for you, you'll enjoy reliving the frustration and then the euphoria of success. Anti-monarchists will question the claim that people of noble blood learn to juggle faster than others. (Or is Andrew Allen actually a successor to the German emperor who has come to reclaim his throne?)

And for all those who enjoy philosophizing, there are some interesting theories to ponder – about juggling as a way of being and as a means to find your true self, and all that stuff.

If you read this book, don't forget: Only a Skandar never drops anything!
P.K.

Busking Bojo's Cycling Roadshow¶

It was at the Munich Oktoberfest last year that I decided to stay on the road for a year, going from juggling meet to juggling meet – a juggler.

I had cycled my way over from England, with my "No Sweat" bicycle trailer behind me, carrying its considerable load – two guitars, some homemade juggling clubs (all I could afford), a dilapidated unicycle I bought for 5 (without a saddle), and of course, camping gear. The whole thing must have weighed 100 kg!

But that was the beginning of a new adventure – Busking Bojo's Cycle Roadshow (perhaps the smallest traveling circus in the world?) and my destination: Frankfurt, the 7th European Juggling Meet. Well, I had to see for myself what all the talk was about.

So I made my debut at Leidesplein in Amsterdam in early September. The few people who had stopped in amazement at this strange sight suddenly noticed another juggler (I won't name names) who had started casually throwing 7 balls into the air nearby, and they slowly drifted over to the other side of the square to give him their full attention. I was left behind, with slightly bruised confidence and ego, to rethink my further daily activities.

There I was, broke and hungry, cycling towards Utrecht. The fascinating thing about being hungry in a foreign environment with no visible way to turn back or change your real situation is that at some indeterminate point, the genetic survival program set up in the brain takes over, and suddenly you're standing in the pedestrian zone, entertaining people in the best and most beautiful way you can!

At this point, it became clear that the only way to get to Frankfurt in the shortest possible time was to juggle for money on the street. And besides, I was tired of strumming old Dylan songs on my guitar.

Although my juggling skills were very much in their infancy, I found it interesting and challenging that I was about to enter a whole new realm of entertainment.

A woman who approached me after a stunning display of absolute clumsiness and lack of coordination, followed by embarrassing inability to stay on or even mount my unicycle with any grace, said, "I think you're a real clown." That was the first I'd heard of it!

But messing around appeals to me more than just plain juggling. Everyone, especially children, rejoices when everything goes wrong. Television shows us the select aristocracy of performers, while the audience-performer contact is missing. People like to be involved. If you can get people out of themselves and make them laugh – with you or at you – perhaps even participate, then you've won. My shows naturally vary from place to place, depending on the mood of the audience, because the audience makes the show, not me.

So I cycled on to Frankfurt. Major mechanical problems with my trailer. A wheel decided to give up the ghost on a Sunday in the rain in the middle of nowhere. But I pressed on with grim determination across the border into Germany. A friend in Düsseldorf provided me with food and a bath and helped me repair the bracket, sending me back on the road after I repaid his hospitality with a juggling show in his living room. But the old survival program kicked in again, and I played my way to Frankfurt, just in time for all the fun.

After recovering from the spectacle of 400 crazy jugglers in one building, I cycled to Karlsruhe to visit a friend before returning to England.

But a small detour via Munich – for money, not for beer – led me to consider continuing on, after another cyclist with a trailer mentioned sunny Spain.

At that time, it seemed like a better prospect than the bad English winter, so I accepted the challenge to stay on the road for a year.

The journey south turned out to be a tough test. Southern Germany and the Swiss Alps treated me to good weather well into November. After earning £70 in 2 hours in Bern, the freewheel on my bike broke, so I had to pedal downhill the whole way until I could buy a new part in Lyon. Pedaling uphill is bad enough, but pedaling and braking downhill is not fun at all.

A torn tire in Valencia on a Sunday, 20 minutes before the plaza, led me to transport my trailer in my friend's car! I would have pushed it if the friend hadn't insisted. It took me days to find a new tire in France, so I bought two at once.

Montpellier was a bust. It was oversaturated with street performers. I made 4 F in 6 days. Someone gave me a loaf of bread, and a cyclist gave me a jar of jam. With that and a final tea bag, I rode 80 km into the mountains to Beziers, where I gathered an audience and made some money just before dark at 5:30 pm.
In Perpignan, I was broke again, but I met someone on the street who gave me 500 F. What luck – or perhaps fate. Sometimes I think I conjured the money by concentrating all my energy on the 500 F note.
This new wealth took me over the Pyrenees to Barcelona, city of thieves. Two other anarchist cyclists I traveled with for 5 days had their wheels stolen in front of a punk bar. Later, someone told me they were lucky to get out with their boots still on their feet. I had to hire a bodyguard to keep the punks off me in the Ramblas.
Later, on Christmas Eve in Valencia, I was attacked with a knife in a small alley. My thumb and index finger were seriously wounded in the fight for my life. The attacker escaped with my day's earnings, but fortunately, he didn't take my guitars or props. But I couldn't cycle or juggle for over a week.
I spent Christmas in my tent, disheartened, but with no other alternative than to carry on.

Back on the road, the freezing winter drove me south towards Almeria, where an article about me appeared in the local newspaper. Unfortunately, I don't understand a word of it! My Spanish skills were very limited. That means most of my show was pantomime.
Then I made the crazy decision to cycle over the Sierra Nevada to Granada. I was tired of the coast and the bad water. But 4 days uphill in the lowest gear (of 21) with headwinds and rain made the journey extremely unpleasant!
Alone at night in the wilderness, I started to miss some domestic comforts and those nice German girls I had never taken the time to get to know. But there was no turning back. Good old survival program.
I performed for a week in Granada, sleeping for free at the closed campsite without facilities. Then on to Cordoba and through very mountainous terrain. Don't be fooled – Spain is not flat at all! But the people are open-minded, even if you only make enough money for your daily bread and sardines.

It rained for 8 consecutive days in Seville. My sister sent me £50. A quick visit to the carnival in Cadiz and then down to Gibraltar to drink English beer again and earn the familiar 20p and £1 coins.
Another extreme storm prevented my entry to the Rock for another 5 days. The wind was so strong it figuratively blew me off my bike, and my trailer tipped over. I had to get help to right it.
It took 5 policemen to escort my show off the street and to the nearest police station, where they arrested me for juggling in Gibraltar.

They had never heard of a "traveling street artist" there! The next day, I pleaded not guilty in court – still in my clown costume (except for shoelaces).
They hadn't expected that, so I spent another night in jail while they considered what to do with me. But a lawyer came to my support, advising me to continue pleading not guilty to the various impossible charges. The next day, I was acquitted, the charge being completely unfounded. The result was that I had unintentionally opened Gibraltar to street artists. Hip, hip, hooray!

But it's a toy town, and I managed to escape quite easily by air to Gatwick on a cheap second-hand flight. The roadshow traveled by sea to Brighton. Strange – it took three and a half hours to cover the distance that took me 9 months by bike. It was a strange feeling on the plane.
Two months later, after the show and I were overhauled in Bristol, I set off again on old paths, heading for Brussels, this time without guitars. I met a Dutch saxophonist in Brighton who wants to join the roadshow as a musician. Now I just need a juggling partner. Only obsessive cyclists need apply!
"But it's the ecological way," I tell the audience before I light the fire clubs. "And I only use unleaded gasoline." I am convinced that cars are bad. There is nothing more energy-efficient, healthier, and cleaner than a bicycle.

Some people say I'm crazy. (Well, we all know juggling is a form of madness everyone has the right to experience – quote from "Juggling for the complete Klutz") But I also admit it, which is the first sign of sanity.
Not only that, but I also don't pay taxes, I work when I want, I earn what I'm worth – and not a penny more. If you don't like my show, or don't have time, just move on.
The journey wasn't easy, but for me, the fact that I know I made it without a car was worth it. In general, people are quite impressed. My I Ching says I have chosen a difficult path and need a teacher.
So – can anyone teach me my show in 23 different languages?

VENUE STREET¶

Money... or Life¶

Every time the paths of two street artists cross, the topic of discussion seems to arise: how do I gather the audience, how do I keep them, how do I turn their money into my money?

The following thoughts on this were sent to us by Zarro Zarro (photo), who has been working as a magician on the streets of Paris since 1978, particularly at the Centre Culturel Georges Pompidou and in the evenings in the Saint Germain district.

The problems I have observed in my own performances and in shows I've seen are of various kinds. The problem of attracting attention is solved much more easily by jugglers than by magicians, for example, as a juggling act impresses immediately, while a magic act needs time to unfold. On the other hand, jugglers generally have difficulty holding their audience. People register that wonderful skill is being shown – that's it... then they move on. Since the element of suspense is missing, the audience has no further expectations and leaves. This applies less to jugglers who incorporate comedy into their show than to those who simply display their technical skill.

This problem is related to that of collecting money. If the audience isn't held until the end of the performance, they don't feel obliged to throw their share into the hat. The problem is a general one: how do you keep people until the end, how do you get them to pay then?
The best success is achieved by (besides having a good show, of course) collecting before the final climax.
Either a partner goes around with the hat, or the artist does it themselves while the show is paused at a moment of suspense, while something is being built up. When I perform the "Spirit Cabin," I have the hat go around at the moment my daughter is locked in the cabin with a male spectator, both securely bound. The spectators – wanting to know what will happen to them – stay, and some contribute.

Another problem is that not everyone is used to tipping for services. Scandinavians and Germans often think that street performers in Paris are paid by the city, and therefore are reluctant to reach for their wallets. French people, on the other hand, are used to tipping.

The length of the program is also an important factor. It should not be too long; 10 to 20 minutes is quite sufficient, as people want to move around, and their attention can be distracted by many things.

It's strange that people don't stop when you start with a beautiful or interesting act. But if you just fiddle with the props and set up without doing anything artistic, they gather to see what will happen – again, that moment of anticipation.

Switzerland¶

In Switzerland, everything must be in order. The city of Bern issues this brochure in five languages to regulate street performance.

Street activities are free in Bern if you

• perform on no more than four days per month and
• do not actively collect money, but at most indicate the possibility of donations by placing a hat, an open instrument case, or similar.

The interests of third parties, who do not perceive street activities as pure enjoyment, must not be disregarded. The municipal council of the city of Bern has therefore established the following rules:

No street activities

• on Sundays
• in the underpasses at the train station
• before 11 am (Saturdays before 10 am)
• after 9 pm (Thursdays after 10 pm)
• No obstruction of pedestrian or vehicular traffic or access to shops. Position yourself and your instrument case accordingly. Also, think of people with disabilities!

No musical performances

• from Monday to Friday from 2 pm to 5 pm in the restricted zone Spitalgasse (incl. west facade Loeb), Marktgasse, Bärenplatz, Waisenhausplatz.
• Maximum 30 minutes at the same location. Change your location, especially if requested. Resolving disagreements in a decent manner can also be culture. Talk to each other!
• No amplifiers, no widely audible instruments like drums and timpani. The street is neither a concert hall nor a beat cellar. Performances should be appropriate for the specific setting of the street.

Paris¶

In Paris, there is no performance license. Street shows are customarily tolerated but can be interrupted at any time if the police feel disturbed by them. The advantage of this is that anyone can play to try out their act and get better – or choose some other profession! The disadvantage, as I see it, is that this tolerance is completely arbitrary. One day you can play, and the next the police tell you you can't – and you have no argument against it.

News from LONDON¶

Charlie Holland

The main event in London was the Covent Garden Juggling Meet. Antony Olins wrote the following report about it:

Covent Garden Convention¶

by Antony Olins

Sunday, May 26th, was the date of the 2nd Covent Garden Juggling Meet, organized by Alternative Arts with the help of Max and Sue from the Oddball Juggling Co.

The weather promised to be good, very important for this open-air event. However, there was a terrible tropical thunderstorm in the middle of the afternoon. Everyone ran for cover and huddled in entrances and under balconies. Everyone except Alex Dandridge, who continued his 5-club practice to great applause.

The weather cleared for the public show, which was a complete success. All proceeds went to Ethiopian relief.

The acts came from John Ballanger (also MC), the Suitcase Circus, Max and Sue, Chris Adams and Alex Dandridge, and myself.

There were formal workshops and informal lessons, juggling games like "Battle of the Juggliators," a 100-yard sprint with clubs, a 5-ball competition. And there were juggling equipment vendors.

As a "newcomer" to juggling meets said:

"Everyone seems to belong to one big happy family, enjoying each other's company, trying to teach each other new tricks."

The meet was a great success, and we are all looking forward to the next one.

The London International Theatre Festival featured two juggling shows – Ra Ra Zoo, whose performance was reviewed in the last issue of Kaskade, and Dr. Hot and Neon, an American duo in "De Spiegeltent," a Dutch dance salon from the 1920s specially erected for the festival.

Dr. Hot and Neon began with a 3-club routine – one takes a club out of the other's juggling and brings it back into play, sometimes through the legs, sometimes over the shoulder – then a mutual club-stealing that seems to reach orgasmic heights of pleasure, judging by the sounds they make.

Six-club passing followed, and then Neon showed a 3-ball routine (with silicone balls that look truly spectacular). Next, a cane routine that was difficult to describe ended with Dr. Hot and Neon each juggling two ping-pong balls with their mouths.
After a demonstration with three cigar boxes by Neon (including pirouettes), Dr. Hot stacked 9 boxes and balanced them on his chin. Neon kicked 4 saucers and cups onto his head, followed by sugar and teaspoons.

Highlights of the show included: a waltz on penny-farthings, followed by 7-ring passing on unicycles with changing colors, an excerpt from a Beethoven concert played on six banjos while they were being juggled (true!!), and a hat manipulation. Dr. Hot and Neon will be in Europe for the next few months. See them if you can.

Dr. Hot & Neon

Aug. 1st, Cologne, Comedia Colonia
Aug. 2nd - Sep. 3rd Stockholm, Scen
Aug. 2nd - Sep. 3rd Gothenburg, Scensommar Theater Festival
Sep. 4th - 5th Cologne, Theater Kefka, International Mime and Juggler Festival
Sep. 5th Rotterdam, Luxor Theater
Sep. 6th Hamburg, Thalia Theater

Below: Alex Dandridge & Chris Adams
Photo: Antony Olins

Alex Dandridge and Chris Adams continue to work together with a very good show, in which they perform 7-club passing, back-to-back passing with real wine bottles, fire passing on penny-farthings, and Alex plays the trumpet – he's been learning for a month, and it's painful to listen to, but also very funny.

Spain 86 - 9th Juggling Week?¶

Invitation to juggle in Europe's newest colony

Asociacion Cultural de Castellar de la Frontera
Prov. Cadiz, Espana

Next year, the extended arm of the common market will also invite us, from the southernmost tip of the continent, to the table.

But we here, on our hill in Castellar, within sight and the sphere of influence of Africa, bathed by the sun and light of two seas, circled by eagles and vultures, and bordered by ancient castle walls, here where caliphs and caesars once ate their bocadillos, we prefer to share our feelings and imagination with unicyclists and fiery jugglers, and with dancing and balancing club swingers.

Therefore, we want to invite European jugglers to open their trick boxes here in our – internationally inhabited, and more by smugglers than by jugglers and pirates than acrobats – little village in the Campo de Gibraltar, Andalusia, Spain, for the 9th European Juggling Week in September 1986 (preferably from September 18th-21st) and to share and exchange their treasures of experience.

The consideration to apply as an organizing committee for your 9th congress was born after we discussed your Frankfurt week in our "Asociacion Cultural." Since we expect support from the regional cultural administration after preliminary discussions, the preparation and execution of such an "Espectaculo" would also be manageable for us organizationally.

However, in order to get to know the many different ideas that exist for next year's meet and to describe our efforts and concept comprehensively, we also want to be present at your Brussels meet this year.

So much for now as an impetus.

With hopeful smiles,
Hermann Klink

From the magic of the third world,
Ignacio Polavieja.