"Where the circus stars come to train and teach…"
~www.circuswarehouse.com
Tightwires and tightwire coaches are in rather scarce supply in small cities far away from major circus centers—like where I currently live. When I have an opportunity for lessons at a circus school, it’s an opportunity not to be passed up. In March I had a chance for not one but two private tightwire lessons at New York’s Circus Warehouse. It was a turning point and milestone on this journey.
Circus Warehouse is indeed in a warehouse/industrial district—across the train tracks, right down by the river in Long Island City. A circus world hidden in a warehouse—although their logo depicts the reverse.
For me Circus Warehouse was a glimpse into a world of possibilities quite removed from the improvised solo training I’ve done so far. The changing area near the entrance door was a small columnar circus tent—the transition point where street garb and the outside world were exchanged for exercise clothing and circus discipline. Beyond the changing tent, apparatus filled the high-ceilinged room: vertical Chinese poles, aerial silks, straps, lyra, and static trapeze, rigging and nets for the flying trapeze, open tumbling and dance space. Then there were the performers in training: lean, strong, focused, relaxed, and seemingly comfortable in their own skin as only dedicated athletes can be.
In between the far wall and the flying trapeze nets was the tightwire, set about two feet high for easy practice. A real tightwire. I’ve already invested so much in this dream of wire walking even though, including this trip, I’ve only walked on actual tightwires a handful of times. Perhaps that is one reason why this experience was important—it reaffirmed that my love of tightwire isn’t just an untested hunch or mere fantasizing.
I had the circus atmosphere, the equipment, next on the list to make this experience complete was a tightwire coach. My instructor was Sonja Harpstead, a professional student at the Warehouse. I can’t give Sonja high enough praise. First of all, yes, admittedly I’m a little star struck with anything—or anyone—circus. To me, Sonja radiated the quiet confidence, discipline, knowledge, and circus ethos that I would like to acquire. Even more importantly, she was a good instructor; she built on what I already know from my balance pipe and slackline training, she added to that what is applicable to tightwire specifically. She also factored in my lack of frequent access to circus instruction: over the course of those two lessons she ran me through as many different drills and skills as we could fit in. The feedback for things to focus on, things to avoid, and a huge list of things to work on was invaluable.
Through the lessons I gained confidence in my balance skill—Sonja said I have good form and a good foundation. Since incorporating the training drills into my practice sessions at home during the last four weeks, I’ve seen significant progress in my balancing: for snatches of moments I can balance moving only my forearms—a level of near stillness that I didn’t come anywhere close to previously. The time at the Warehouse was also a glimpse into the world of circus with professional equipment, quality instruction, and a community.
Although tightwire instruction was a major priority, the real purpose for going to New York was to spend time with my friend Stacey. She should get an award for listening to circus babble for three days. Luckily she enjoys trying new (and preferably random) things, so I delightedly took the opportunity to drag her along to circus school. Seeing her poise on the wire—the poise of a former dancer—I added ballet classes to my list of things to try in the near future, a growing list of tangential thing that tightwire inspires me to try. (I’ll probably have a few posts on some of those tangents I imagine).
Just as important as my time in the Warehouse were the heart-to-hearts with my friend. Like I said, she deserves a medal. First, I can’t think of anyone in my life who believes in me more and with such simple matter-of-factness. She let me talk (obsess); she pushed me to articulate my goals, and helped me talk through how I could meet those goals.
During those three days in New York, a wish to fulfill a childhood dream turned to courage to pursue a concrete goal. A quote from Walt Disney sums up what I brought home from New York—a conviction that was better than any souvenir I could buy: “All our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them.”
Here’s to courage. Thank you Stacey and Sonja.
For me Circus Warehouse was a glimpse into a world of possibilities quite removed from the improvised solo training I’ve done so far. The changing area near the entrance door was a small columnar circus tent—the transition point where street garb and the outside world were exchanged for exercise clothing and circus discipline. Beyond the changing tent, apparatus filled the high-ceilinged room: vertical Chinese poles, aerial silks, straps, lyra, and static trapeze, rigging and nets for the flying trapeze, open tumbling and dance space. Then there were the performers in training: lean, strong, focused, relaxed, and seemingly comfortable in their own skin as only dedicated athletes can be.
In between the far wall and the flying trapeze nets was the tightwire, set about two feet high for easy practice. A real tightwire. I’ve already invested so much in this dream of wire walking even though, including this trip, I’ve only walked on actual tightwires a handful of times. Perhaps that is one reason why this experience was important—it reaffirmed that my love of tightwire isn’t just an untested hunch or mere fantasizing.
I had the circus atmosphere, the equipment, next on the list to make this experience complete was a tightwire coach. My instructor was Sonja Harpstead, a professional student at the Warehouse. I can’t give Sonja high enough praise. First of all, yes, admittedly I’m a little star struck with anything—or anyone—circus. To me, Sonja radiated the quiet confidence, discipline, knowledge, and circus ethos that I would like to acquire. Even more importantly, she was a good instructor; she built on what I already know from my balance pipe and slackline training, she added to that what is applicable to tightwire specifically. She also factored in my lack of frequent access to circus instruction: over the course of those two lessons she ran me through as many different drills and skills as we could fit in. The feedback for things to focus on, things to avoid, and a huge list of things to work on was invaluable.
Through the lessons I gained confidence in my balance skill—Sonja said I have good form and a good foundation. Since incorporating the training drills into my practice sessions at home during the last four weeks, I’ve seen significant progress in my balancing: for snatches of moments I can balance moving only my forearms—a level of near stillness that I didn’t come anywhere close to previously. The time at the Warehouse was also a glimpse into the world of circus with professional equipment, quality instruction, and a community.
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| Stacey and Sonja |
Just as important as my time in the Warehouse were the heart-to-hearts with my friend. Like I said, she deserves a medal. First, I can’t think of anyone in my life who believes in me more and with such simple matter-of-factness. She let me talk (obsess); she pushed me to articulate my goals, and helped me talk through how I could meet those goals.
During those three days in New York, a wish to fulfill a childhood dream turned to courage to pursue a concrete goal. A quote from Walt Disney sums up what I brought home from New York—a conviction that was better than any souvenir I could buy: “All our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them.”
Here’s to courage. Thank you Stacey and Sonja.
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