Children of all ages

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This article was published 29/12/2019 (2342 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

From juggling to unicycling to just clowning around, you don’t have to run away and join the circus to test out your circus skills. You just have to head over to the Broadway Neighbourhood Centre.

It’s no baroque big top, but for eight years, the centre at 185 Young St. has been the spot for a colourful cast of characters to perfect their circus skills — and for folks to try out fabulous feats for the first time.

The Winnipeg Circus Club, established in 2012, is a group dedicated to supporting the city’s circus arts community and bringing together participants of all ages and skill levels.

“The original idea of starting the Circus Club was to have an indoor space when it was cold so that people could come in and hang out and practise their things,” Charles Lauder, the Club’s current president, explained on a frosty recent Sunday afternoon.

The Club meets every Sunday from the beginning of October to the end of May, from 1 p.m. to 4 p.m.

“These days, we tend to focus on juggling, unicycling, and hula-hooping, just because of the people we tend to attract,” Lauder said. “But our target demographic, I guess, is really everybody. We want everyone to try these nifty circus arts…”

Lauder, in his third stint as president, is a deliveryman by day. His true passion, however, lies in clowning around. He’s been entertaining folks of all ages as “Sleepy the Clown” for 24 years, ever since he met a travelling clown when he was 15.

“What I enjoy about being a clown is the audience — it’s about the interaction between the audience whether that audience is one person or 500, or 1,000… practising being a clown is really hard to do because you need people to interact with,” Lauder, who has performed all around the province and even in Dubai, said.

One thing Lauder can practise is his specialty — balloon art. He is a master who can twist them into almost anything, such as Minions, the Grinch or a full pirate scene.

“Balloons is what I’m known for the best,” he said. “My favourite thing to make is something I’ve never made before, because I get to come up with a new design on the spot.” He’s recently been asked to make a Stormtrooper and a jellyfish.

“I’ll try anything once, twice if you feed me,” he laughed.

Lauder, acting as the reporter’s guide, directed him to Adam Dzaman, who was on the other side of the gym juggling a bevy of balls — nine, to be exact.

“Seven is like what I’m capable of easily now. I’m actually working on ten,” the long-bearded Dzaman said matter-of-factly, before demonstrating. (‘Can you show me?’ was the reporter’s common refrain during his afternoon visit. Everyone from the Club was more than happy to oblige.)

“The interesting thing about juggling, is that even numbers don’t cross,” he explained, “and odd numbers cross. Three balls are actually crossing between the two hands, whereas four balls, it’s two in each hand.”

To an outside observer, it looks the same — when he juggled four, you couldn’t tell they weren’t switching between his left and right.

Dzaman started juggling 25 years ago after his father learned to juggle during a trip and in turn, taught his son. Now Dzaman teaches others in the community.

Dzaman said a total novice — such as the reporter — should start with a single ball in order to get the rhythm before moving on to multiple balls.

Putting down his notepad, the reporter did just that, tossing one ball between his hands before doing the same with two. By the time he attempted three, he found it tough to remember to even toss the third ball while simultaneously focusing on catching the second ball with the same hand (when jugging three balls, one starts with two in their dominant hand.)

“I’ve started a goal to try and beat the record, the world record, for juggling, which is qualified, on video, actually documented, twelve,” Dzaman said. “Six and seven were the hardest, and now eight and nine are coming a lot faster and easier.”

Also rambling around and coaching jugglers was sixteen-year-old Tait Palsson, who performs at festivals such as ManyFest and Kidsfest as “T8 the Gr8.”

The wunderkind can seemingly do it all, from juggling rings and pins, to unicycling, to performing magic tricks and sleight-of-hand illusions.

Palsson showcased one trick in which he changed the colour of dots on a small stick by simply waving it over a ball. He later turned the stick into a 1974 Winnipeg Centennial Silver Dollar.

Palsson has been practising the “magic arts,” as he calls them, since he was seven years old; he was inspired by a magician who turned a stack of $5 bills into $20s.

When asked why he is passionate about performing, the soft-spoken and unassuming young man had a simple answer.

“Why does anyone do anything?” he asked, with an air of understated mischievousness. “It’s fun.”

Palsson can even juggle and unicycle at the same time, a feat he showed off to the reporter. After deftly swirling around the gym and juggling four red balls (“you didn’t see that,” he said when he dropped one) he hopped off and explained balancing on one wheel is new to him.

“I’ve only just learned to unicycle, but I have a fence that is the perfect height for me to learn to ride…” he said, explaining that he practised by holding the fence and pedalling its length before turning around and coming back the other way.

“It’s fun to learn new things. It’s always nice to experiment with some new trick. What’s nice about juggling and riding a unicycle and performing for people is you get to come up with new things on the spot. There’s a lot of freedom inside of juggling.

“Unicycling is kind of like falling forward but pedalling to catch yourself,” he explained as he goaded the reporter onto one. “If you just pedal forward, you are heavier than the unicycle, top heavy. The bottom wants to shoot out from underneath you.”

Substituting the wall for a fence and holding the reporter’s other hand — so no trips to the nearby Health Sciences Centre would be required — he helped the reporter travel a few wobbly feet by his third attempt.

Aside from unicycling, the reporter also gave hula-hooping a shake under the guidance of long-time professional performer and instructor Karrie Blackburn.

Blackburn first took up hula-hooping ten years ago for exercise, and “found (her) talent and passion in the process,” she said (in addition to losing 75 pounds.)

“It’s way more cardio than you realize,” Blackburn said. “Ten minutes is equal to one hour of walking.”

Blackburn has since travelled to 18 countries to perform and learn in the decade since taking up hula-hooping. She began instructing in New Zealand, but came back to Winnipeg and has been teaching the “hoopy goodness” under the name Kurrent Motion ever since.

Beginners should start out with a big hoop, as it moves slower and gives one more time to find their rhythm, she explained. The unco-ordinated reporter did as such, and under Blackburn’s coaching, was able to, within ten minutes, keep the hoop around him for more than a few seconds.

“A lot adults believe they can’t hula-hoop, and it’s because they’re using kids’ hoops. We don’t wear children’s shoes; we don’t use children’s hula hoops,” she said.

“When we think of hula-hooping, everything thinks it’s spun around the waist, but that’s only one of an infinite amount of possibilities. By design, the hula hoop is infinite. So are the options and ways you can spin it.” These options include, according to Blackburn, one’s neck, nose, ankle, foot, rear end, arms and even hair.

She showed off just about all of that and more in a gorgeous, graceful display using two glistening, hand-made gold hoops.

For five-and-a-half years, Blackburn made teaching and performing her full-time job, but has recently taken a day job with Compost Winnipeg. However, you can still catch her at Lights of the North and the Zoo Lights Festival.

She considers the weekly meetups “circus church.”

“It’s a social space where you can meet other like-minded folk,” she said. “There’s a lot that can be said for community and gathering. One thing religion has going for it is that it creates bonds and community. Here, while there isn’t a religion per se, it’s a way to come and be around friends and people who are practising and learning new things… there’s so much inspiration you can take from different styles.” For example, she’s learning to juggle hula hoops and hula hoop while walking a slack line.

“What I always tell my students is, when you say ‘I can’t do something,’ your brain goes ‘fine, I won’t.’ But if you say ‘I can’t do it yet,’ it gives you a goal… it’s really more of a frame of mind than an actual talent.”– Karrie Blackburn

By the time 3 p.m. rolled around, the gathering had grown to twenty-plus strong; laughter and chatter abounded from all the participants, young and old, as they spun plates and hoops, tottered around on one wheel, and otherwise learned from the experts.

One beginner was Keith Taylor, a nascent juggler at his third-ever meetup. The storyteller at FortWhyte Alive, who brought a trio of balls, said he plans to be a regular attendee for the rest of the winter so he can augment his tales with juggling. He called the space a “very positive place to be.”

Everyone, including Blackburn, was more than generous with their time and contributed to a friendly feeling.

“What I always tell my students,” Blackburn said, “is, when you say ‘I can’t do something,’ your brain goes ‘fine, I won’t.’

“But if you say ‘I can’t do it yet,’ it gives you a goal… it’s really more of a frame of mind than an actual talent.”