Backstage, before the ‘Circo Hermanos Vazquez’ shows begin, the performers can be seen warming themselves up for the coming events. Acrobats stretch and hyper extend their limbs. We, as dancers, do the same. The clowns check their props. The horses are brushed down and groomed. We pass each other in the backstage areas, greeting each other as we go about our preparatory activities.
Currently, I am working in an environment that is
entirely made up of illusion. In equal measure, the circus ring where each
performance happens is filled with happiness, magical and infectious passion,
creativity and bravery of the most immense kinds. Every day at my place of work
my colleagues dive off of trapeze ropes, spin from death defying heights from
sky-high motorbike tracks and lift one another in balancing acts that appear to
defy the laws of physics. They wear harnesses to lift them to the skies of the
circus tent. They become the characters audiences have paid their ticket money
to see. Not to mention the pirouetting horses and flying dogs in our circus show!
For 2 glittering hours, audiences are taken in by
the magic that we provide. As a dancer in our group of 6 showgirls, our specific
job is to contribute to this shimmering display with high kicks, feather
plumes, glittering costumes and smiles as wide as the tent itself! The 2000
capacity tent of audience members drink up every moment and glimmer of it all,
as they wave their glow sticks, spill their popcorn in excitement, and applause
the brightly lit scenes that play out in front of them. Our smiles remain
affixed, as we have photos
taken with paying audience members. We hold our centres, pull up as tall as we
can, and bevel as hard as our dancing shoes will allow. Twenty dollar smiles
for every flash of the camera.
Then, united, we march backstage. The giant red
curtains swish closed behind us, marking the true end of the show. And in this
specific moment, the true magic occurs. We turn back into people. Transformers
of a less mechanical kind, arguably.
As we disperse away into our separate trailers and
changing areas, we return to our former selves. Our names return. Our various
aches and pains return to us as adrenaline levels subside. Our thoughts
differentiate from one another once again. We carefully remove our feather
plumes, costumes and accessories and step back into reality. Removing our masks
in every sense.
But which truthfully is our reality? Which of these
states is the truest version of ourselves?
I arrived into the world of dance initially
believing and hoping it to be a place of escapism. I was seeking a place where
I could express myself in an environment where I would not be judged, and I
could pretend to be someone I didn't feel I was. As my dancing journey has
continued, I have altered my perspective entirely; with no spoken words, dancing
is where I find the truth of myself. It is where I feel most comfortable. It is
where I establish the outer edges of my thought processes, rather than solely
the skeleton of them.
When I discovered dancing, as an adult, it was as
if I had been given a new body, and I had to work out how to move all over
again. Similarly to an infant, I was clumsy. I fell a lot. I tripped, rolled,
and lost direction in the room. I dizzied myself, frustrated myself, raged, and
fought against myself. I also discovered moments of pure ecstasy, where I was
able to truly achieve what my mind wanted my body to do. Gradually, with the
support of musical inspiration and some technical tuition input, I learnt to
not only control my body, but to release it in many ways from the confines it
had previously experienced. I learnt new shapes, patterns and ways of moving
and thinking that I had previously been unaware even existed. Most importantly,
I felt as if my body and mind were finally connected to one another. I cannot
think of a more truthful experience.
I now find myself in the professional position of
repeating the same movements over and over again for a paying audience. I dance
now in rooms full of audience members, rather than in solitude. I perform
alongside other dancers who are paid, just as I am, to perform the same actions
and movements in the exact costumes every night. We wear full stage make-up,
have our hair neatly pinned in buns, and wear long, stretching fishnet tights.
We are a unit of dancers, employed to be so. But have my dancing days become
any less truthful?
There are many situations in life where we have to put
a brave face things, or perhaps omit certain truths from conversation for the
sake of others or ourselves. Everyone in the world has a story to tell, a pain
they have felt, or something that if probed would make their heart plummet in
it’s casing. But we are living currently in a world of fashion, media presence,
and tireless attempts at perfection. Social media absorbs us into a false world
of perfect relationships, ideal ways of living, and popularity stakes. In some
senses, the performing world, in the classic ‘life imitating art’ theory is
more real than the ‘real worlds’ we are surrounded by.
Sometimes in life and on the stage we
may all feel the need to put on a slightly braver smile than we really feel. I
don’t believe this makes us any less of ourselves. Sometimes it might just mean
that we need a little more time, or a different set of spotlights, before we
feel comfortable to uncloak ourselves.
In two hours time from now I am due on stage. I will
wear the same costumes as I did yesterday, and the same ones I shall wear
tomorrow. As a performing unit, we will step out into the circus ring under the
glimmer of the giant mirror ball suspended above us, and demonstrate all that
we are in the performing arts world. For two sparkling hours we shall give
ourselves over to the ideals of the audience. We are there to return to the
audience what the experience of performance gives to us, in allowing them to
take a collection of moments in their day to experience a feeling that remains
truly indescribable.
Whether I am on a stage in full costumery, or alone
with a clean face and an old leotard in a chipped wall dance studio, I believe
in the power of freedom. I am very sure that for every show we do, we make a
difference to the audiences who witness them. There will be someone in every
audience who is struggling, just as there is undoubtedly someone performing
bright lights in front of them who is feeling the same. Both of these
candidates might be putting on a front. But in the magical moments of music and
performance, for a few moments, both are soothed.
This, intrinsically, is all the truth and freedom I
will ever need.
Helen Victoria.