By Casey Cunningham
Like most things in life, attempting to write a review about a show like Brave Space is an exercise in risk taking, in trial and error, about falling flat on your face and starting all over again.
I have at this point gone through three different drafts of review for this show, and honestly I would like a few more tries. It’s that kind of show. It’s hard to describe, hard to encapsulate and relay something as surreal and impressionistic as this piece.
But writing this review is my job, so I must take the leap of faith.
Brave Space is a…
Well it’s kind of a…
Well, this is harder than I thought it would be…
Let’s try it this way.
Remember those parachutes in elementary school gym class? The one the whole class would stand around? You’d all grab the edges with your grubby little-kid hands, lift it up, and woosh! The billowing of the fabric and the laughter of your class mates running under it.
Remember hiding under the blankets? Remember playing with a flashlight and throwing strange shadows on the wall? Remember making blanket forts with your friends and staying up what seemed like all night telling stories and playing games?
Remember being young and reveling in the movement of your body, of just seeing how high you could jump? How long you could balance in a hand stand against the head of your bed?
That’s Brave Space.
The cast is only eight people, and as it says in the program “Brave Space is a show that cannot happen without the audience, it literally can’t be done.”
This is most definitely the case, as the audience literally defines the space in which the performance occurs.
It’s an experience that can only be relayed in impressions, as a literal description of it would be an unforgivable act of reductionism.
The show began after a brief “Here’s what to do” from Artistic Director, Shayna Swanson. The audience surrounded a large circular tarp, the speakers overhead began to emit a strange blend of voices saying “you are safe” while other voices quoted what sounded like crime statistics. Lighting implements came online under the tarp, suffusing it with a strange glow which illuminated barely discernable shapes moving underneath it.
As the soundtrack of conflicting reports swelled, (the aural equivalent of those first niggling doubts that the world is not as safe as your peaceful childhood had led you to believe) the shapes of the performers became more apparent. There was rustling, clanking, and then slowly from the center of the tarp, a single form began to emerge.
A single figure standing on top of, what moments before had been tarp over empty space.
What came next was one of the most amazing balancing acts I’ve ever seen.
From under the tarp, a few more performers came out bearing poles. The balancer stepped onto it, while it was supported by the ensemble. She walked up it, she walked down it. She stepped onto vertical poles like they were stepping stones.
She stood precariously perched, twelve feet or so above unforgiving industrial flooring. You could have heard a pin drop; the audience held its breath. I saw looks of amazement and worry that mirrored my own internal state.
It is hard to describe an action that from a distance appears delicate and graceful, but requires unreal amounts of exertion, it was one of the most impressive things I’d ever seen until the next act. And the act after that. And the one after that.
After what appeared to be a choreographed fall into the arms of her fellows, the show truly began.
We were all instructed to grab onto the tarp with both hands.
It was like I was back in elementary school waving that parachute, only with an adult’s fears, anxieties, and awareness of other people.
With a “1,2,3” wave we picked up the tarp and all climbed inside, nestled safe together in the brave space.
I’m going to stop there, because A. I have a Wordcount to think about and B.I don’t want to give away any more, as this is really a performance that must be seen to be understood.
No, I’ll shorten that to, “it must be seen.”
The great carnivals and circuses that were such a universal aspect of our country’s common entertainment, are quickly fading.
Things that provoke child-like wonder at the stupendous feats of bravery and skill of another human being are in woefully short supply. As Swanson remarked, “Circus and especially the learning of circus requires a level of vulnerability that grown up humans don’t generally experience in their day to day lives. You have to be willing to take risks and fail in front of other people over and over again. That requires trust and respect to a degree that your actual life can depend on it. This forms bonds with people that are so strong.”
Acrobatics is art at its most daring. It is the throwing of oneself quite literally into one’s passion. As Aloft artist Zoe Sheppard notes, “If I want to get on stage and cry, I can do that. If i want to get up and be super weird and leave the audience scratching their heads, I can do that. If I want to dress up like Cher and do a trapeze act to “if I could turn back time”, I can do that. Whatever I am feeling or identifying, I am free to make that art.”
Brave Space is a wonderful piece. It is daring, beautiful, whimsical, profound, simplistic, complicated, safe, scary, beautiful thing, and I very much hope it sticks around.
Be Brave, go see it, and support these supremely talented artists. Their skill and commitment are an example to us all. Be inspired.
For more information on Aloft Circus Arts and the Brave Space tour, visit their site.
Categories: Archived Reviews