“We teach the heart first and the body second, and teach that determination, hard work & team building can lead to healthier & happier bodies for everyday life, as well as how to be a skillful artist & athlete.”
~Mission Statement, New England Center for the Circus Arts
~Mission Statement, New England Center for the Circus Arts
Only a handful of circus schools in the U.S. teach tight wire. In the past few years I've fit two of them into my travels: The School of Acrobatics and New Circus Arts (SANCA) in Seattle, and Circus Warehouse in Long Island City. This summer I added a third to the list: The New England Center for the Circus Arts (NECCA) in Brattleboro, Vermont.
Being from the west, I’m used to states that can take a day (sometimes more) to drive across. So I was surprised and delighted to discover that the friends I visit every year, in spite of living on the opposite side of Vermont, are actually only an hour and a half from NECCA. This year my friends let me extend my visit a few days so I could commute across the Green Mountain State for circus classes.
From the summit of Hogback Mountain, with its spectacular views of the vast green expanses that give Vermont its nickname, I descended into Brattleboro. Down by the river that divides Vermont and New Hampshire is the main NECCA campus—studios and office spaces housed in what used to be a cotton mill.
The building is old and industrial, but the spaces have adapted well for their current use, with large rooms, light brick and wood floors and high windows that create a sense of openness. In the studios, ropes and fabric drape from the ceilings to wall hooks, waiting to be released, and mounds of folding mats stand ready as extra padding when needed.
Walking into NECCA wasn't like walking into a live Cirque du Soleil performance any more than attending a barre class is like finding oneself center stage in the Nutcracker’s Waltz of the Snowflakes. The best adjective I could find to describe NECCA was “ordinary” and that is what makes it extraordinary and appealing. It wasn’t the building, the functional practice spaces, or the lack of stage lighting and costumes, it was the atmosphere: to the people that walk the halls of NECCA, circus is the ordinary. Here the heart of the circus resides, where it lives for more than a weekend before rolling out of town again.
One of the Center’s founders, Elsie Smith, had been kind enough to arrange four private lessons with various NECCA coaches over the course of two days, two on wire and two to try other circus disciplines: Chinese pole and fabric (aerial silk).
The lessons were impressively professional. Each coach quickly assessed, then tailored their instruction to, my specific strengths and weaknesses. Each lesson focused on safety and fundamental techniques and each ended with guided stretching and calisthenics tailored to the discipline—to perform on that apparatus and to prevent the injuries and imbalances common to that work.
At the other schools, as a visiting circus tourist, the lessons I could arrange were with the schools’ senior students. At NECCA, I had the opportunity for the first time to work with experienced coaches who were themselves established professional performers. For all I learned in those lessons, the coaches themselves made the biggest impression.
My first lesson was with Elsie on wire. Elsie I liked on sight. She has a down-to-earth air of authority and quiet competence. She also had intelligent and analytical explanations that matched my learning style.
After a quick intro, Elsie got right down to the nitty-gritty of posture and balance, covering everything from the soles of my feet to the crown of my head: foot balance, knee alignment, thigh and hip flexor activation, pelvic and rib position, shoulder blade engagement, arm counterbalancing, etc. I won’t run out of things to focus on any time soon.
One of my goals for this visit was to find out about the Center’s summer performance bootcamp. Much to my delight, Elsie thinks I could be ready as soon as next year if I invest in some focused preparation. As a first attempt at a performance piece, my goals would be very modest compared to participants coming to refine their Cirque du Soleil audition pieces. But the videos required for bootcamp applications are used in part to ascertain simply whether the applicants are fit enough for the three weeks of intensive circus training. I understood that concern in the (sore) days that followed my visit.
My second class was Chinese pole with Bill Forchion. Bill fills a room: he’s a tall man whose strength is obvious, but with his big biceps, goes a bigger smile and an even bigger heart.
After finding me a pair of loaner shoes and asking me what I hoped to learn, he looked to me and said, “Let me see you climb the pole.” I gaped in astonishment—I had expected…something…before being allowed ten or twelve feet off the ground. He chuckled, but his tone was authoritative, “Climb. Climb to the top. I want to see what you can do.” I hesitated for another second with scrunched eyebrows and sweaty palms before shrugging and clambering carefully to the top and back down again.
Something about pole brings out my insecurities. The heights on a rigid pole seem scarier than on fabric that can wrap, tie, and twist. I also have some girly doubts about my upper body strength and pole seems to require just that. In Bill’s class, I wasn’t getting away with limiting myself. After I'd performed a move and descended back to the ground and looked to him for feedback, he laughed and scolded, “Don’t look to me for approval. You’ll know when it’s a non-approving moment. You’ll be flat on your back on the mat.” Fair enough.
Not only did I more than accomplish my modest goal of a one-leg sit, but even managed to invert on my own as well:
At the end of the lesson, Bill told me, with a straight face as intimidating as his grin is heartwarming, that even though I had paid the school for my lesson, I still had to pay him. While I tried not to look too taken aback, that big white-toothed smile snuck out and he continued, “I’ll give you a choice: hug or handshake.” I opted for the hug—a hug that took my feet well off the ground.
Back at home base that evening, I did my best to make my friends jealous with stories of my adventures. It worked, and NECCA was kind enough to amend the schedule even on short notice to include my 12-year-old friend in the fabric lesson the next day. For this post, my tween circus accomplice has chosen to go by “FireQueen”—which nom de guerre and choice of elements, in my opinion, suits her vibrant, imaginative personality as well as it does her hair. I think my fiery friend had plenty of fun, and having her along was great for me: I had company for the drive, a warm up partner on arrival, a photographer during the short tight wire lesson, a student-buddy for the aerial fabric lesson, a snack server for the drive back, and, best of all, someone to share the experience with.
That second day was fun, though less in-depth. FireQueen and I were the first arrivals. After she and I had warmed up on the mats in the still-quiet studio, Aimee Hancock, my instructor for the second, shorter wire lesson, breezed in with casual poise and Bohemian harem pants. Not even an exuberant 12-year-old photographer could distract Aimee from her focused and sympathetic instruction.
For that lesson, in addition to additional postural corrections, I got to work through the components for half turns—which someday I hope will graduate to crisp and impressive full turning twirls. All too quickly, my muscles were shaky and the half hour was up.
Along with finding out about the performance boot camp, another goal for this visit was to test out my shoulders. Even though they’ve been doing better, it’s been enervating worrying that I could be permanently limited. Aimee and Elsie’s reactions were very reassuring—they both responded along the lines of “but of course.” Apparently overhead freehand balance work causing shoulder discomfort is quite normal and both had stretches and exercises for it.
Last for the circus sampler was the shared fabric lesson taught by Kristen Mass. She had the challenge of teaching to two different ages and skill sets—young and old, figure skater and climber. I was impressed with how she added variations on the same skills to match our strengths and skill levels. Hers was the most hands-on lesson in terms of demonstration. Her execution of those simple moves were beautifully graceful while technically precise—very much worthy of FireQueen’s spontaneous applause.
A major difference between beginner aerials and beginner equilibristics is ego accomplishments: there are few to none for equilibristics. On wire, consistently walking across a 15-foot span without falling is the reward of practice and experience. Then there’s pole or fabric—with a little help, on a very first lesson, a student could very possibly climb to the top, tie themselves up in knots, and flip upside down.
After two days, three and a half hours of instruction, four coaches, and three apparatuses, it was time to return my 12-year-old circus buddy to her parents (egg her on in making them jealous too), pack my things, say goodbye, and head to the airport. The flight gave me a few hours to sleep off at least a little bit of the soreness.
My time at NECCA gave me new techniques to practice, and skills to master, stretches and flexibility to work. Most important, I have a concrete goal to work toward: performance bootcamp. It’s exciting that I (nearly) have the foundationl to begin working toward some modest level of performance skill. I’m still adjusting to the idea actually—I’m one of those bizarre individuals whom opportunities scare—sometimes more than a little. I’m working hard not to be overwhelmed by all the hard work I’d like to put in to prepare.
Even though I was only there as a circus tourist, it had been thrilling to be inside a professional circus school, in rooms full of circus apparatus, with professional performers as coaches—a place where circus magic is incubated. I came as a two-day visitor, I left wanting to be more.
Being from the west, I’m used to states that can take a day (sometimes more) to drive across. So I was surprised and delighted to discover that the friends I visit every year, in spite of living on the opposite side of Vermont, are actually only an hour and a half from NECCA. This year my friends let me extend my visit a few days so I could commute across the Green Mountain State for circus classes.
 |
| Hogback Mountain Summit Viewpoint Being from the west I was as impressed by all this green as I was by the short commute. |
From the summit of Hogback Mountain, with its spectacular views of the vast green expanses that give Vermont its nickname, I descended into Brattleboro. Down by the river that divides Vermont and New Hampshire is the main NECCA campus—studios and office spaces housed in what used to be a cotton mill.
The building is old and industrial, but the spaces have adapted well for their current use, with large rooms, light brick and wood floors and high windows that create a sense of openness. In the studios, ropes and fabric drape from the ceilings to wall hooks, waiting to be released, and mounds of folding mats stand ready as extra padding when needed.
Walking into NECCA wasn't like walking into a live Cirque du Soleil performance any more than attending a barre class is like finding oneself center stage in the Nutcracker’s Waltz of the Snowflakes. The best adjective I could find to describe NECCA was “ordinary” and that is what makes it extraordinary and appealing. It wasn’t the building, the functional practice spaces, or the lack of stage lighting and costumes, it was the atmosphere: to the people that walk the halls of NECCA, circus is the ordinary. Here the heart of the circus resides, where it lives for more than a weekend before rolling out of town again.
One of the Center’s founders, Elsie Smith, had been kind enough to arrange four private lessons with various NECCA coaches over the course of two days, two on wire and two to try other circus disciplines: Chinese pole and fabric (aerial silk).
The lessons were impressively professional. Each coach quickly assessed, then tailored their instruction to, my specific strengths and weaknesses. Each lesson focused on safety and fundamental techniques and each ended with guided stretching and calisthenics tailored to the discipline—to perform on that apparatus and to prevent the injuries and imbalances common to that work.
At the other schools, as a visiting circus tourist, the lessons I could arrange were with the schools’ senior students. At NECCA, I had the opportunity for the first time to work with experienced coaches who were themselves established professional performers. For all I learned in those lessons, the coaches themselves made the biggest impression.
My first lesson was with Elsie on wire. Elsie I liked on sight. She has a down-to-earth air of authority and quiet competence. She also had intelligent and analytical explanations that matched my learning style.
After a quick intro, Elsie got right down to the nitty-gritty of posture and balance, covering everything from the soles of my feet to the crown of my head: foot balance, knee alignment, thigh and hip flexor activation, pelvic and rib position, shoulder blade engagement, arm counterbalancing, etc. I won’t run out of things to focus on any time soon.
One of my goals for this visit was to find out about the Center’s summer performance bootcamp. Much to my delight, Elsie thinks I could be ready as soon as next year if I invest in some focused preparation. As a first attempt at a performance piece, my goals would be very modest compared to participants coming to refine their Cirque du Soleil audition pieces. But the videos required for bootcamp applications are used in part to ascertain simply whether the applicants are fit enough for the three weeks of intensive circus training. I understood that concern in the (sore) days that followed my visit.
My second class was Chinese pole with Bill Forchion. Bill fills a room: he’s a tall man whose strength is obvious, but with his big biceps, goes a bigger smile and an even bigger heart.
After finding me a pair of loaner shoes and asking me what I hoped to learn, he looked to me and said, “Let me see you climb the pole.” I gaped in astonishment—I had expected…something…before being allowed ten or twelve feet off the ground. He chuckled, but his tone was authoritative, “Climb. Climb to the top. I want to see what you can do.” I hesitated for another second with scrunched eyebrows and sweaty palms before shrugging and clambering carefully to the top and back down again.
Something about pole brings out my insecurities. The heights on a rigid pole seem scarier than on fabric that can wrap, tie, and twist. I also have some girly doubts about my upper body strength and pole seems to require just that. In Bill’s class, I wasn’t getting away with limiting myself. After I'd performed a move and descended back to the ground and looked to him for feedback, he laughed and scolded, “Don’t look to me for approval. You’ll know when it’s a non-approving moment. You’ll be flat on your back on the mat.” Fair enough.
Not only did I more than accomplish my modest goal of a one-leg sit, but even managed to invert on my own as well:
At the end of the lesson, Bill told me, with a straight face as intimidating as his grin is heartwarming, that even though I had paid the school for my lesson, I still had to pay him. While I tried not to look too taken aback, that big white-toothed smile snuck out and he continued, “I’ll give you a choice: hug or handshake.” I opted for the hug—a hug that took my feet well off the ground.
Back at home base that evening, I did my best to make my friends jealous with stories of my adventures. It worked, and NECCA was kind enough to amend the schedule even on short notice to include my 12-year-old friend in the fabric lesson the next day. For this post, my tween circus accomplice has chosen to go by “FireQueen”—which nom de guerre and choice of elements, in my opinion, suits her vibrant, imaginative personality as well as it does her hair. I think my fiery friend had plenty of fun, and having her along was great for me: I had company for the drive, a warm up partner on arrival, a photographer during the short tight wire lesson, a student-buddy for the aerial fabric lesson, a snack server for the drive back, and, best of all, someone to share the experience with.
For that lesson, in addition to additional postural corrections, I got to work through the components for half turns—which someday I hope will graduate to crisp and impressive full turning twirls. All too quickly, my muscles were shaky and the half hour was up.
Along with finding out about the performance boot camp, another goal for this visit was to test out my shoulders. Even though they’ve been doing better, it’s been enervating worrying that I could be permanently limited. Aimee and Elsie’s reactions were very reassuring—they both responded along the lines of “but of course.” Apparently overhead freehand balance work causing shoulder discomfort is quite normal and both had stretches and exercises for it.
A major difference between beginner aerials and beginner equilibristics is ego accomplishments: there are few to none for equilibristics. On wire, consistently walking across a 15-foot span without falling is the reward of practice and experience. Then there’s pole or fabric—with a little help, on a very first lesson, a student could very possibly climb to the top, tie themselves up in knots, and flip upside down.
After two days, three and a half hours of instruction, four coaches, and three apparatuses, it was time to return my 12-year-old circus buddy to her parents (egg her on in making them jealous too), pack my things, say goodbye, and head to the airport. The flight gave me a few hours to sleep off at least a little bit of the soreness.
My time at NECCA gave me new techniques to practice, and skills to master, stretches and flexibility to work. Most important, I have a concrete goal to work toward: performance bootcamp. It’s exciting that I (nearly) have the foundationl to begin working toward some modest level of performance skill. I’m still adjusting to the idea actually—I’m one of those bizarre individuals whom opportunities scare—sometimes more than a little. I’m working hard not to be overwhelmed by all the hard work I’d like to put in to prepare.
Even though I was only there as a circus tourist, it had been thrilling to be inside a professional circus school, in rooms full of circus apparatus, with professional performers as coaches—a place where circus magic is incubated. I came as a two-day visitor, I left wanting to be more.
