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Article from Kaskade
Zen and the Art of Tent Maintenance
People walking their dogs in the
park today, somewhere in the UK, might be surprised. A convoy of bright pink
trucks and vans pulled in last night, towing caravans, and now a big blue tent
with a rose-pink star on it has appeared.
No Fit State Circus has arrived! [ Ed: that's how I spelt it in those days...]
Peeking inside the tent we see people hard at work, installing
scenery and seats, lights and carpets, running electric cables around, up
and down ladders. Others can be seen checking trapezes, tightropes and smaller
pieces of equipment. If we make sure that we are not disturbing the work we may
go behind the scenery into a narrow space cluttered with costumes and props,
faintly lit, then duck out under the canvas flap to find ourselves inside the
ring of caravans at the back, where we 
see children and dogs playing, a scatter
of tables, water containers, a bucket of fire torches, some washing hanging out,
and usually some circus folk hanging out too.
Today they built the theatre, tomorrow they do the show. There are no performing animals as this is New Circus, but the tent, and the process of erecting it, are traditional.
I got
involved as a member of the tent crew. Erecting the tent and
taking it down draw the same sort of audience as does a building site - except
that the visible changes we offer are faster (be patient and you can watch the
whole process completed in a matter of hours). We have little privacy, not just
because we live in close proximity to each other, but because we live and work
in the public domain. It's all part of the show, so we try not to swear when
things get difficult - and they do, of course - thunderstorms, fireworks landing
on the tent, some ground is
hard to put the stakes in, there's rain, the wind
blows, the fuses blow, it happens. (Let's not mention the tyres that blow on the
motorway).
Handling the tent-building materials needs to be done efficiently, both to minimise the wear and tear on performers (and the things themselves!) and to demonstrate that we are professional, and safe. Everything involved in the circus is heavy, it seems. Each person has their own way of dealing with weight, some using the heave and grunt method (clang!), some seeking the elegance and economy of effort which settles a heavy object into place with a sigh (Zen and the Art of Weight Handling).
The metaphor of a sailing ship is
irresistible. We have the boat's rigging, and the small versatile crew working
unselfishly. The tent is not made from the hemp canvas from which sails were
made, but a modern plastic sheeting, and the poles are no longer tree trunks,
but the tent responds to the weather, creaking in the wind or collecting puddles
of rain, and I definitely felt swashbuckling when I climbed to the top of it in
a high wind to tie
back a banner which had broken
loose. It demands a more or less 24-hour watch kept on it if the
elements are showing their strength. The weather has been kind, however, and we
have often been able to relax into a simple maintenance routine.
When working we are all always aware of the possibility of having to take over for someone else, or improvise some quick solution to a local dilemma, and we need to be constantly aware of each other's fatigue levels, states of mind, strengths and weaknesses. The potential danger of an area of heavy objects, electricity, stakes in the ground, etc. keeps us all a little more thoughtful for others, as well as trying to leave things as we would wish to find them in a less than fully awake state (e.g. anticipating the possibility of someone falling over, or bumping into, things in the dark, while responding to to the tent alarm at night).
We don't always achieve these high states of efficiency, of
course,
with the different fatigues of performing, driving and tent construction
accumulating in all of us (as well as various kinds of partying to relieve some
of the stresses of the job). We are living the life - all in the same boat, and
the life style doesn't go away when we walk off stage.
Once the tent is up, with walls on, we are home. Our energy and attention switches to what will be happening inside this wonderful shape. This place which appears strange and unfamiliar to audiences as they enter is custom-built for us. It's a tiny country of its own, with different rules.
