Cirque Éloize Audition: Part VII of VII (Patreon)

[Wednesday November 9th, AUDITION DAY, cont]

I closed my eyes. Took a deep breath in through my nose. Let it out slowly through my mouth. Reminded myself to soften my jaw. Let go of the tension. And nodded for them to start my music.

I didn't know if it was appropriate or not to try to film my act run, and the people I would have otherwise thought to ask to run their cameras while I did my number were busy hanging onto the other end of the rope that was holding me up in the air, so all I'm left with is my imagination and highly subjective personal sense of whether I did ok or not. But ––

It went as well as my best runs in rehearsal went, so I couldn't have asked my body or brain for more than that.

I finished, they applauded, and I de-rigged my equipment.

Sipped some water and nibbled on a few rice cakes until it was time to pull lines for LeeAnn's and Glory's acts (they killed it).

Exchanged contact info with a couple of the other artists in the audition who'd been particularly friendly. Schmoozed briefly alongside Glory and LeeAnn with some of the straggling casting creatives that hadn't dashed off to lunch, and then–  That was it.

A crash came hard and fast for me that I wasn't expecting: within moments of it being over, I felt incredibly low.

I wanted to go home, curl up in a ball, and have a good cry.

Why?! I thought at myself. Why are you like this? This is utterly ridiculous.

But I felt sad all the same.

Confusingly, my brain was somehow able to simultaneously acknowledge that I'd shared the absolute best of myself that I had to offer over the last 4 hours; that there was nothing else I held back, nothing else I could've shown anybody; that I'm the best I've been in all the things I've been working on recently ... and also that I felt like I'd come up incredibly short in the entire thing.

I didn't even have anyone from the casting team indicating so to me! Nothing to justify the latter, illogical narrative that my brain was quietly murmuring to me.  Everyone was friendly, smiling, happy – to all the artists. No one was singled out as being particularly spectacular; no one was frowned at or subject to hushed, low whispered comments.

You're probably just tired, I rationalized.

This is probably an adrenaline dump.

This was a big push getting ready for this, and now you've done it. It's over. Go home, have a snack, have a nap. You'll feel better soon.

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This was largely true: I did go home; I did have a snack; I did start to be able to at least see the absurdity of my brain's contradictory narratives.

I didn't feel better quickly though; I had Barbette work looming on the horizon already. Immediately.

I'd been offered a week of Residency through TOHU once again, for the week following this audition adventure. I'd written William, my straps coach, as soon as TOHU contacted me; I needed see if he could work with me for this short notice offer of private rehearsal space.

And private rehearsal space felt especially crucial at this stage of development:

We're starting to rehearse the bones of the piece from start to finish. 

This rehearsal involves taking off layers of clothing until I'm performing shirtless at the end of the piece. 

I still haven't worked up the guts to check in with the Russian coaches who are at the usual studio space about me being trans.

The usual studio space (generally: Kalabanté Studio) is nice enough to train technique in, but it's hard to be present and drop down into grounded, deeply-felt emotion or character work when someone is blasting Pitbull through the studio speakers while they smash out their 64th muscle-up, someone else is just staring at you from the couch while they wait around for their lesson to start, someone else is gossiping loudly over to the side on the mats while they stretch and warm-up, and you just need to hear yourself think but you can't. 

My first artistic mentor, Brandy Leary, used to say how crucial it was to have time "in studio". I'm coming to understand that that's not just time in a literal studio, putting in the hours, doing your physical conditioning or act research. It means doing the uncomfortable, messy, and sometimes deeply personal work of making art. That's hard enough to do on its own, let alone with witnesses who aren't privy to the inner workings of your project. 

Luckily, the artistic coordinator of TOHU thinks along exactly similar lines. "You need a safe space to rehearse in," as she put it. Thank god. 

But William happens to be incredibly busy right now. He's an amazing coach, and people know it. He has students who fly in from Lebanon, Austria, France, and all over the US to work with him now. It's a feeding frenzy for a high-level straps coach who also cares about your feelings and will take the time to explain to you in French OR English what you need to adjust in order to succeed in executing a movement. 

 I snapped up the few times he was able to offer me –– but the first 2 of those time slots happened to be the days immediately after this Éloize audition. 

As in -- push push push push, AUDITION, next day 90 minutes with William, NEXT day 90 minutes with William, and then BOOM! straight into Residency for a week (happening in the Studio Création at the National Circus School).

Not good in the "rest & recovery" department, either physically, mentally, or creatively. 

But it was what it was. 

I burned the candle at both ends during this particular Montréal trip, but I didn't see any other way to make the most of the time that I had here. I had to suck it up, find rest when I could, and try to push forward.

At the time you're reading this, I'll have concluded the week of November Residency times that TOHU was able to offer me. I spent Monday and Tuesday in studio at ENC with William; a 3-hour long session with my conseil artistique, Marie-Josée Gauthier, hammering out the 4 characters contained within the piece; and 2 sessions with just myself and a puller on Friday and Sunday before  making the long drive back to Toronto. 

I still have a family member in the hospital and need to spend some time with her and supporting my family before driving back to Montréal for one last push this year on the Barbette project. At the time of this writing, the idea is to be back in Montréal from the 6th or 7th of December until December 23rd. 

If I want to reach the goals and deadlines I've set for myself with the 6-minute Le Numéro Barbette number, there's 6 more hard weeks of work to go. This pace isn't sustainable indefinitely ... I'll rest for a little bit after Christmas ... but for now, it's still full throttle.

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You can expect a short pause in posts while I finish up the remaining elements of Barbette's Skeleton*. (ETA, first week of December) Our owing instalments are going to discuss costuming, music, and the immediate (lofty) goals for this work.

*If you're a newer patron, the 'Barbette's Skeleton' posts are a series of "catch-up" posts that I began writing in October to get us all up to speed on the dramaturgy and research that I was conducting on my big Canada Council for the Arts grant project (aka, Le Numéro Barbette). You'll find them under the #Barbette hashtag grouping, or you can take a short scroll down the page to find 'em.

Until next time, stay strange & wonderful!

XO Ess