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Artists’ Voice

February 28, 2017 By cindy

Inside Arts, a magazine published by the Association of Performing Arts Presenters

Artist’s Voice

The curtains open, the black light tubes flicker on. I am waiting in the wings of an old vaudeville house in Maryland, not far, by touring standards, from the place where the constitution of the United States was signed. Juggling, the art form which entered my life as a solitary hobby in elementary school, has become my hymn to the pursuit of happiness. Yet I never would have dreamed, when I juggled on stage for the first time in my eighth grade talent show, how far this force would propelme across continents and into other lives.

I’ve been juggling with Lazer Vaudeville for almost seven years in theatres, opera houses, colleges and performing arts centers across the country. Now, whenever I put on the mask and gloves which enable us to disappear and become black light puppeteers, my mind wanders back to Arabian summer nights, to a time that hovers in my memory like a desert mirage betokening mystery, excitement, fear, and frustration.

As I disappear into the blackness and hear the children’s squeals of laughter and delight, I am reminded that in Saudi Arabia women wear black from head to ankle in public; people tell each other apart by their shoes (or Roller Blades). Adult female faces are completely covered by double-layered veils. And last summer, for six weeks, one of these faces was mine.

As the only woman in Lazer Vaudeville’s three-person cast, I tried to stay optimistic as we prepared for our first trip to the Middle East. Our destination: the city of Abha, capitol of Saudi Arabia’s southwestern province of Asir, where we have been contracted for a six-week run. As a dutiful thirty- something, I promised my mother that I would not do anything revolutionary, i.e. noticeable, while in the Kingdom I filled out “Catholic” in answer to the religion question on my immigration form just as other Jewish performers had advised. Soon I was flying into Jeddah and then on to the New Abha Resort’s Luna Park with fellow-jugglers Carter Brown and Jeffrey Daymont.

We had been engaged through SYAHYA, the National Council for Tourism, over a year ago. The kingdom plans to begin granting tourist visas in the next year or two, so officials are eager to bring some positive foreign influences to the area. The U. S. State Department told us we would be the only Americans to perform for Saudi citizens in public, as opposed to entertaining within the confines of military, air-force or oil compounds, places where locals are not admitted.

We had been warned about the strict Muslim customs/laws in the Kingdom. For starters, men wear long white gowns with headscarves and can be arrested for wearing shorts. Women are not permitted to drive; in a Rosa Parks-style demonstration a few years ago, 50 women drove cars through the streets of Jeddah to challenge this law. In a classic gesture, the law responded by arresting their husbands. Aside from the Saudi management, the actual work force is made up of Egyptians, Philippines, Moroccans, Syrians, Sudanese and Indonesians, who told us they had been warned not to attempt to date Saudi women on pain of death.

After a year of emailed messages from our contacts assuring us that I would not need a veil or any special attire to perform in the show, I felt fairly secure about accepting the contract. Still, I brought along a black dress and headscarf and, after five minutes in the Jeddah airport, couldn’t wait to put them on. As I looked around at the strictly chaperoned children, the anxious, submissive women, and the dominant yet repressed men, I wondered whether I would really be allowed to perform after all, and, if so, how I would face the task.

Entering Luna Park, I felt some encouragement from the sight of here. Imagine a miniature Disneyland, one with separate lines for men and women leading to the same ride. Later I found that, since women are not allowed to enter or leave the park without their husbands, I often had to point to our poster in order to enter or exit the park. My forebodings proved fairly accurate: when we scoped out our venue, the “Family Stage,” with some of the staff it seemed that the management had no intention of letting me perform, with or without a veil. huge color posters with pictures of…us! Yet that woman on the wall juggling without her face and head covered seems recklessly out of place

“Only men can perform for families,” they insisted, “women can perform for women only (in private) and men and women cannot perform together—any exception would put our establishment at risk.”

Many meetings later, after our equipment was discovered locked in a closet at the Jeddah airport, it was confirmed in front of the rest of the staff that I would not be performing in the show. Then I was taken aside by the top brass and told that I could in fact perform as long as nobody could see me. Since this was TOP SECRET, I would have to impersonate a man (i.e. wear slacks, a T- shirt, and a baseball cap) so as to deceive the rest of the staff, who would feel religiously and culturally violated if they knew a woman was taking part.

Oddly enough, when we put this gender plan into effect, the staff kept popping back stage. “Oh, Cindy, are you performing? Good for you,” they would call out, giving me the thumbs up.

When I found out women could not be admitted to the gym or pool, I took to jogging in the hills above the resort for exercise. For this I wore silky sweat pants from the basket souk and a baseball cap instead of a veil. Though anonymous in the show, I soon became a tourist attraction for the locals. The fathers would wave me inside, where I would be served mint tea and invited to clown it up for the kids. The parents wanted me to teach the girls in particular headstands, jump rope, or any sort of American-circus exercise they might have seen on T. V. (Tom & Jerry ran incessantly). Up in the mountains, I could hear the 6-times-daily chant broadcast from loudspeakers mounted on the Mosques. I thought it would be irritating, but I grew to treasure the spiritual moments it yielded.

Back at the Palace Hotel, it was another world entirely. We were treated to sumptuous buffets created by a British chef who used to work for the Harrods family and the Saudi royals in London. Glass elevators lifted us to the top of the pyramid-shaped hotel. As we gazed down at robed figures gliding across Italian marble floors, I felt like a passenger on the Titanic, a stranger calmly lingering in a strangely surviving land.

The staff treated us with bemused curiosity, eagerly following the vaudevillian script of our little Saudi soap opera. I took advantage of the “Ladies Only” Internet café to blow off steam. Perhaps sensing that I would need an outlet, management informed me that I had been invited to perform at Ladies Night, a 5-hour weekly program held downtown at the 3000-seat Abha Cultural Center. Actually, this was a much better venue than the roofless, carpet-covered, concrete stage the trio was stuck with. Even though I loved the opportunity to perform 30-minute solo act to music, I sorely missed our ensemble work.

At Ladies’ Night I finally I saw women relax a bit and let down their guard—-and their hair, taking off their veils and dancing in the aisle to the beat of an all-woman’s percussion ensemble. At one point I was escorted into the audience to meet the presiding Princess (just about every institution or activity in the kingdom is underwritten by her husband, Prince Kahlid, brother to the King).

During our last week in the Kingdom, Lazer Vaudeville received an invitation for a command performance at the Abha Palace. The occasion was Princess Loulou’s 6th birthday party (her grandmother was the Princess at Ladies’ Night). Inside the palace walls, I was encouraged to remove my headgear and juggle with the troupe. After this oasis of vaudeville artistry, I returned to my role as The Invisible Woman of Luna Park, running sound and lights, handing the guys their props, and straining to catch a glimpse of the audience.

We returned to America with an adventurer’s tale worthy of Scheherazade. Now, on these New England autumn nights of touring and juggling, our crisp catches and passionate passes seem to continue from Altoona to Hyattsville in an uninterrupted flow. But as I step onstage here in Maryland, I can’t help thinking of those Arabian nights a world away. I will remember the women’s eyes—theirs and mine—peering through dark curtains, waiting to speak.

–Cindy Marvell, January 2001


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Air That’s Not So Thin, and Circus Arts with a Heart

February 28, 2017 By cindy

The New York Times

SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 14, 1999

THEATER

AIR THAT’S NOT SO THIN, AND CIRCUS ARTS WITH A HEART

By CINDY MARVELL

The vaudeville and circus arts will converge in New Jersey this month, with performances by Fred Garbo‘s Inflatable Theater Company and Cirque Eloize. After sold- out runs at the New Victory Theater in Manhattan, both troupes are ready to go out on their limbs in their pursuit of the dazzling, the eccentric, and the unexpected.

Imagine a cross between Woody Allen‘s flying machine in ”Sleeper‘‘ and the balloons in Macy‘s Thanksgiving Day parade, and you have some idea of inflatable theater. ”We like to blow up everything in the garage and laugh at inflation,‘‘ Mr. Garbo proclaimed from his home in Norway, Me.

Though capable of solo flight, his inflat ables more often than not have humans inside. His partner, Daielma Santos, is a Brazilian ballerina who trained at the Royal Academy of Dance in London. Together, they toss, dance and cavort inside and around creations ranging from giant cubes that unexpectedly sprout limbs to a full-length evening dress that adorns the elegant Ms. Santos. Then, of course, there is the beloved monstrosity Fred Zeplin, Mr. Garbo‘s inflated alter ego.

The spectacle of an overblown orange-and-purple man attempting dive rolls and cartwheels, performing handstands on a chair and imitating break dancers has been known to leave audiences gasping for air. ”People guess wrong if they think this is primarily for kids,‘‘ Mr. Garbo (originally Garver) said in a telephone interview.

For Ms. Santos, a frequent guest principal dancer and choreographer with the Portland Ballet in Maine, the chance to work with inflatables offered comic relief. ”I saw Fred bouncing around in the inflatable suit,‘‘ she said, ”and I thought: ‘Forget this pas de bouree stuff. I want to do something fun.’ ‘‘

Mr. Garbo‘s mixed bag of talents, from dance to circus arts, have landed him such diverse opportunities as a role on Broadway in the musical ”Barnum‘‘ and a guest spot in Moses Pendleton‘s dance company, Momix. After six years of collaborating with Bob Berky and Michael Moschen in the international touring show ”Foolsfire,‘‘ followed by eight years as Barkley the dog on ”Sesame Street,‘‘ Mr. Garbo decided it was time to broaden his horizons, and his costumes. The idea for the inflatable man began as a stage set designed by George York, who has created about 50 inflatables for Mr. Garbo over the last 10 years.

”It‘s a real acting job to get the characters across in a big bag,‘‘ Mr. Garbo said. ”It‘s like a very large mask that transforms into a living cartoon.‘‘

In rehearsal, Mr. Garbo and Ms. Santos use walkie-talkies to direct the action, but onstage they are on their own. By the end of the show, an entire household of inflatables has appeared. Yet the audience invariably shouts, ”More!‘‘

Mr. Garbo is negotiating with Kenneth Feld, director of Ringling Brothers Barnum & Bailey Circus, who envisions an inflatable circus.”I always say were big people with a big show, but the circus is gigantic,‘‘ Mr. Garbo said. ”I might as well be in on the ground floor as a consultant.‘‘

SINCE Cirque Eloize made its New York debut three years ago, the troupe has changed its tone, but stunning physical skills and intimate clowning still dominate the show.

”Excentricus,‘‘ billed as ”a festival for the eyes, the ears and the heart,‘‘ expands the troupe‘s tradition of eccentric circus theater and humor.

Born in Quebec in 1993, the troupe sizzles with youthful energy and elan. A tour of Europe inspired changes in lighting, music, costuming and plot. ”The performers had the chance to work with a new director, Claudette Morin, and explore their individual characters,‘‘ said John Lambert, a former Cirque du Soleil clown who now manages Eloize. ”We have new clowns, and the atmosphere is more varied, more European in style.”


On a recent French tour, the Canadians performed 22 shows in five weeks, and their new production might be set in a smoky French cafe. It begins with a dimly lighted band, led by Lucie Cauchon, accompanying a languid figure stretched out on a trapeze above the stage, and continues with a mixture of whimsical choreography, passionate artistry and physical dexterity. Throughout the 90-minute performance, set to original music by Denis Hebert and Eric Bernard, bodies master apparatus with savoir-faire.

Jeannot Pinchard, a co-founder of Eloize, weaves his way through the entire production with his Felliniesque bicycle act. His fellow founder, Daniel Cyr, turns a freestanding ladder, typically used as a mere climbing post, into an athletic meditation of unprecedented variety. Somersaulting between the ladder‘s rungs and balancing at the top like a seal, he displays superhuman strength combined with a graceful yearning.

Marc Gauthier, a rope climber, commands the audience‘s attention as acrobats cavort beneath him. Shana Carroll, who is to join Cirque du Soleil‘s Australian unit next season, plays the winsome trapeze sprite; in a rhythmical, seductive solo (sometimes played by Marie-Eve Tumais), she opens the program with an aerial dance on the still trapeze. Sometimes staccato, sometime lyrical, she twists and winds herself around the bar with masterly control and minimal effort.

Early on, Mr. Pinchard takes a comical turn as he sets up a tumbling mat. Subsequent feats include a mini-trampoline sequence, hand-to-hand balancing and contortions, and a Chinese-style group balance atop a moving bicycle.

The troupe‘s five original members take the stage for a rare 15-club juggling act. Patterns, rather than tricks, dominate ensemble juggling, and the Eloize juggers use their acrobatic skills to create unusual formations, like three-man towers feeding clubs back and forth.

One of the jugglers, Jamie Adkins, is also the troupe‘s newest clown (and its lone United States citizen). A veteran of the Pickle Family Circus from San Francisco, Mr. Adkins performs a slack-wire solo and joins in the juggling and acrobatic numbers. Though performed to music, the solo is more character than choreography.

”It‘s hard to be graceful on the slack-wire because it‘s always sliding out from under you,‘‘ he said. ”The piece is all about the discovery of the wire. I took the four years I spent learning wire — the emotions, the fear — and squeezed them all into five minutes.‘‘ He has already accompanied Cirque Eloize to Hong Kong, Brazil and Europe, and says he plans to stay until he learns to speak French without having to resort to mime.

FRED GARBO‘S INFLATABLE CIRCUS


John Harms Center for the Arts 30 North Van Brunt Street, Englewood Next Sunday at noon and 3 P.M.

CIRQUE ELOIZE State Theater 15 Livingston Avenue, New Brunswick Feb. 26 at 8 P.M.


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A Show as Light as the Air That Propels It

February 28, 2017 By cindy

The New York Times

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 11, 1998

A SHOW AS LIGHT AS THE AIR THAT PROPELS IT

By CINDY MARVELL

SO, what does an inflatable man do when the chips are down on Wall Street?

”We blow up everything in the garage and laugh at inflation,‘‘ proclaims Fred Garbo, the pneumatic vaudevillian who created the Inflatable Theater Company, coming to the Tilles Center on Saturday. Imagine a cross between Woody Allen‘s flying machine in ”Sleeper‘‘ and the balloons in Macy‘s Thanksgiving Day Parade, and you have some idea of inflatable theater.

Though capable of solo flight, Mr. Garbo‘s inflatables more often than not have humans inside. And not just any humans. Mr. Garbo‘s partner, Daielma Santos, is a Brazilian ballerina who trained at the Royal Academy of Dance in London. Together, they toss, dance and cavort inside and around creations ranging from giant cubes that unexpectedly sprout limbs to a full-length evening dress that adorns the elegant Ms. Santos. Then, of course, there is the beloved monstrosity Fred Zeplin, Mr. Garbo‘s inflated alter ego.

The spectacle of an orange-and-purple man who looks as if he weighs 300 pounds attempting dive rolls and cartwheels, performing handstands on a chair and imitating break dancers, has been known to leave audiences gasping for air. Years of physical training render such side-splitting images effective.

”People guess wrong if they think this is primarily for kids,‘‘ Mr. Garbo (originally Garver) said in a telephone interview from his home in Norway, Me.

”We‘ve performed everywhere from Montreal‘s Just for Laughs festival to the Kennedy Center to opera houses.‘‘ Not to mention David Letterman‘s late-night television show and a sold-out run at the New Victory Theater in Manhattan last spring.

Mr. Garbo is planning a new piece commissioned by the Alabama Symphony, to be performed with full orchestra and, of course, inflatables of all shapes and sizes. ”My mother was a violinist, and I played trombone when I was a kid,‘‘ he said, explaining his numerous pieces involving musical themes. ”But I couldn‘t reach seventh position‘‘ — a point on the slide that‘s a long reach for a child‘s arms — ”so I had to throw it down and kick it up with my foot. That may have been my start as a juggler.‘‘

As a child, Mr. Garbo, 44, performed magic tricks and revered the Marx Brothers. His favorite was Harpo, the silent yet musical one. ”He was angelic and beautiful, but also highly skilled. After all the humor, people were surprised he played the harp so well. That‘s why I continue to juggle in the show.‘‘

For Ms. Santos, a frequent guest principal dancer and choreographer with the Portland Ballet in Maine, the chance to work with inflatables offered comic relief. ”I was working in classical ballet only,‘‘ she said. ”Then I see Fred bouncing around in this inflatable suit and I thought: ‘Forget this pas de bouree stuff. I want to do something fun.’ ‘‘

As one of the prime instigators of the ”new vaudeville‘‘ movement in the United States, Mr. Garbo said he viewed the genre‘s popularization with a mixture of pride and chagrin.

”It‘s really blossomed,‘‘ he noted, ”so now everybody and their uncle can ride a unicycle, juggle and pick volunteers.‘‘ But Mr. Garbo‘s all-around talents in juggling, magic and tumbling have landed him such diverse opportunities as a role in the Broadway musical ”Barnum’‘ and a guest spot in Moses Pendleton‘s dance company, Momix.

As a teen-ager, he sought out the Celebration Mime Theater led by Tony Montanaro, the legendary teacher and author of the treatise ”Mime Spoken Here,” at his headquarters in South Paris, Me.

”At Celebration they were doing magic without props, gymnastics without competing,‘‘ Mr. Garbo recalled. ”I came when I was 19 and never really left.‘‘

His commitment was rewarded by the chance to tour with Mr. Montanaro. ”It really was the old apprentice system, learning the craft from the master,‘‘ he said. Now, as a teacher himself, Mr. Garbo has seen many of his students go on to perform with troupes including Cirque du Soleil.

Through Celebration, he met the internationally acclaimed mime Bob Berky, with whom he taught and performed for nine years. In 1982 they were joined by Michael Mo schen and formed a trio, Foolsfire, which performed at Dance Theater Workshop in Manhattan, the Spoleto Festival U.S.A. in Charleston, S.C., and the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. Mr. Garbo fondly remembers his solo, which involved a unicycle powered by a kazoo.

After six years of touring, Mr. Garbo left the trio to pursue other projects and landed a gig on ”Sesame Street,‘‘ playing Barkley the dog for eight years. One creation that never hit the airwaves was a juggling monster named Dexter.

”Dexter tried to stop juggling, but it was like a drug: he couldn‘t give it up,‘‘ Mr. Garbo said. He found himself in a similar position when his dog days came to an end.

”I was still doing the unicycle, juggling a lot, and then, thank God, I thought of the inflatable man,‘‘ he said. The idea began as a stage set designed by the self– styled inflatalist George York for a performance at the Fools Fest in Montpelier, Vt. Mr. York, whose ”air galleries‘‘ include some of the lightest hot-air balloons in the world, reckons he has created about 50 inflatables for Mr. Garbo over the last 10 years.

Although Mr. York‘s inflatables have been used as scenery at festivals and on Ben & Jerry‘s Traveling Show, Mr. Garbo is his only client in the costume department. The prototype was made of white rip-stop nylon but eventually switched to hot-air balloon nylon. ”It‘s a real acting job to get the characters across in a big bag,‘‘ Mr. Garbo said. ”It‘s like a very large mask that transforms into a living cartoon.‘‘

Ms. Santos, who manipulates ribbons and bubbles and metamorphoses into an inflatable woman, toe shoes and all, said: ”We go from goofy inflatables to scary ones to classy, elegant ones like my dress.‘‘

”It‘s nice to have the seasoning of Fred‘s comedy,‘‘ she added. ”He has his own rhythm, but I‘m pretty much breaking it and taking it to another place.‘‘ Rehearsals tend to match perfomances in complexity, if not in comedy. In practice, the duo uses walking-talkies to direct the action, but onstage they are on their own.

By the end of the show, an entire household of inflatables has appeared, yet the audience invariably shouts, ”More!‘‘ Mr. Garbo‘s ingenuity has inspired imitators, but none have pursued it with the same degree of passion, verve and sheer talent. He is negotiating with Kenneth Feld, director of the Ringling Brothers Barnum & Bailey Circus, who envisions an inflatable circus.

”I always say we‘re big people with a big show, but the circus is gigantic,‘‘ Mr. Garbo said. ”I might as well be in on the ground floor as a consultant.‘‘

Fred Garbo‘s Inflatable Theater Company performs on Saturday at 2 P.M. at the Tilles Center, C. W. Post Campus, Long Island University, Brookville. The company is also scheduled to appear at the Staller Center in Stony Brook on March 28.


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2015 IJA Festival Joins Circus in Quebec City

February 28, 2017 By cindy

IJA 2015

Contemporary circus, Canadian scenery, and serene climate made Quebec City a star location for the 68th Annual IJA Festival. Though only some of the festival transpired at L’Ecole de Cirque, known to many jugglers as home of the Turbo Festival, the creative atmosphere infused the spirit of the art. The college gymnasium of Cegep Limoileu housed most of the open juggling and nary an off spot could be found on the ultra-bouncy floor. Stage competitions and shows took place at the Imperial Bell Theatre, a vaudeville era classic with MCs either from the Quebec school or out of the history books.

Special shows and workshops have become a regular feature of the IJA. Jugglers gave Flip FabriQue and Machine de Cirque many thumbs up for melding innovative passing patterns with hooping, aerial skills, and performance character. Flip FabriQue presented for the city at Agora du Port de Quebec throughout the summer. Crepuscule contained ensemble drama and sheer fun. Teeterboard flips into a pit of black and white balls in which the performer disappeared made an irresistible treat. Club passers Francis Julien, Jérémie Arsenault, William Poliquin-Simms, Jérémie St-Jean Picard, Christophe Hamel, Bruno Gagnon worked in formation with a character slant and the contemporary hula hooper was lifted in meaningful manner and ultimately leapt off the stage.

Flip FabriQue A - 1380

Flip FabriQue, Jade Dussault hooper

Flip FabriQue E - 1380

Flip FabriQue

Machine de Cirque H (S)

Machine de Cirque

Machine de Cirque - 1380 A

Machine de Cirque

Machine de Cirque - 1380

Machine de Cirque, Opening Show

The 5-person Machine de Cirque took the role of Welcome Show at an outdoor stage set-up downtown. With rugged ingenuity based on a survival concept they teamed on teeterboard, bikes, and acrobatics with some 5-club patterns and passing thrown in. A particular favorite for the jugglers was the lying-down club passing formation in various feed patterns. The IJA also hosted a Welcome Stage redux giving individuals a chance to perform and a benefit show at Theatre de la Bordee.

Greg Kennedy and Co. presentedTheorem, a special performance at L’Ecole de Cirque on Thursday night.

Greg Kennedy - 1380 C

Greg Kennedy in Theorem

Machine de Cirque - 1380 B

Machine de Cirque

The “hemisphere” from Kennedy’s championship act in 1996 made an appearance, sans croutons, as did an updated Lucas Cup for Kennedy and his family to take home. Greg and aerialist Shana Kennedy manage a circus studio in Philadelphia so they enjoyed the familiar scene, as did their three young enthusiasts. Theorem has been pursuing touring opportunities in the wider world of performing arts centers, but here jugglers could apply their own musings to Kennedy’s ideas and innovations. They could also take the Special Workshop during the week.

Kennedy is such a skilled all-around juggler not many can keep up and most of his collaborators have other specialties. Zack Delong, Shane Miclan, Christine Morano, Nicelle Burgio, and Matt Scarborough tossed in batches of beanbags until the ultimate batch fell from the ceiling. This worked better than the piñata at Renegade. The piece comes alive when Kennedy gives each performer a magic sphere igniting their childlike wonder. This leads nicely into a group box build as an adroitly fashioned tower interlocks en balance.

A triple hemisphere emerged successfully with a wonderful trio of practitioners rolling six balls each in legitimate patterns. Kennedy follows with an eight ball solo. What happens when one performer gets all the balls is best answered in the DVD. Moving en l’air, an aerial double cloud swing impressed with a strong hand-to-hand sequence and evident performance enjoyment.

Theorem Acrobats IJA - 1380

Theorem Aerialists

Three silver balls on strings created a larger ensemble with possibilities. Maybe there’s a way to add poi capabilities. The Moschenesque performance of the square in circle yields its own patterns. One of the differentiations is the ability of the square to rotate in a circle and produce new angles. The idea of performing this way might have echoed Moschen more than any particular trick; it is the way of contemporary circus. Invigorating set patterns led to a Ferris wheel delight. Vaudeville performers traditionally utilized some of these techniques, though Kennedy’s contraptions have advanced from the typical box or park bench a la Bobby May.


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