Page 3 May 1980
By
Craig Tumer Seattle, WA Teaching
juggling to actors and performers can be a satisfying and challenging
task. As a specialist in movement training at the University of
Washington's Professional Actor Training Program, I have found
juggling to be a valuable addition to my class sequence. Aside from
all the new things it can teach an actor about his or her body, most
performers find it just plain fun.
Why
do I teach juggling? It efficiently teaches hand-eye coordination,
balance, awareness of right or left hand dominance, response to
rhythmic changes and relaxed breathing. In passing routines, it is
also valuable for developing awareness and cooperation with other
performers.
One
of the most important ideas for actors to learn is the connection
between what they imagine and what we - the audience - can see.
Juggling is an excellent way to see how clear an actor's mind is. As I
am fond of pointing out, balls do not normally have a mind of their
own and will only do what you make them do. In order to improve an
incorrect throw, aside from a little practice, an actor must
understand what he or she is trying to do and have a good, clean image
of where the ball should go. That the mind leads the body, I think, is
a selling point in juggling's favor. Imagination
over matter
All
of this is an appeal to the actor to use imagination in overcoming a
physical obstacle. An actor can see the exact consequences of unsure
juggling though in other physical skills training it is not so
obvious. I encourage previsualization - seeing where the balls will go
before they leave the hands. By emphasizing the mental process
preceding the physical, it is easier for beginners to get started, and
I have been able to offer more practical encouragement.
One
thing I look for in a juggler is physical ease and relaxation. I don't
think that juggling, for an actor or any performer, is just getting
three balls up in the air any which way, tongue half out, breathing
stopped and shoulders high. If an actor is to use juggling in
performance or in warmups, it must be a way to release energy and
relax. An exercise which increases tension is hardly something that an
actor needs before a stressful performance. No
noise, now
I
use some particular techniques in testing for relaxation and
concentration of image. For instance, if I can hear the balls hitting
the hands in a regular cascade, then I know that the juggler needs to
drop the hands more just as the balls come down.
I emphasize the softness and giving way in the hand so that there is
no resistance and resulting sound. This leads to a more circular
(figure eight) hand pattern, which is easier to sustain. It also makes
the pop of the ball up into the pattern much easier, without a stop
and start, which drains energy.
Working
up the arm, I also check to see that the
At
the end of juggling study, I have two tests: one is a brief
three-to-five minute act in which the actors can juggle balls, hoops,
pins, brooms or chairs, use the bongo board, do some passing or
whatever - but as some kind of act. This might include comic patter,
the use of some kind of dramatic situation in which juggling appears,
or, in the case of advanced jugglers, a straightforward sequence of
juggling effects. Creative
entertainment
This
is the creative test where I look for the actor's ability to get
past the technique and attempt to entertain the class. I have had good
actors who have been able to entertain us in spite of the fact that,
technically, their juggling was really not that strong. But that's
okay - I'm training actors who can do a little juggling, not the other
way 'round. The
other half of the test is called the compulsories - rather like the
school figures in skating at the Olympics. The actor is asked to start
a cascade and continue while I give instructions such as, "Make
the smallest cascade you can," "Make the biggest you
can," "Make the wildest," etc.
I
also test the actors' concentration by asking them to continue
juggling and look at me, read some words out of an ad in a newspaper I
hold up beyond the cascade, or to continue the cascade while I move in
close and place my hands under, to the side, and over the balls.
I
can tell if the concentration is off when the whole pattern begins to
veer either toward or away from my hands. If an actor can juggle with
this kind of pressure, I know he or she can do it for an audience.
I
look for devices that continue to appeal to an actor's imagination. I
had an actress recently who had trouble getting beyond three passes
until she began to say "Ah" on each throw.
Why
did this help? Vocalizing releases tension through breath and relaxes
the body. h also establishes a consistent rhythm; this is why I often
play music during juggling classes and encourage the actors to use a
variety of rhythms when they practice. This is a fundamental training
for an actor who must learn to play different characters, each one
of whom has a different rhythm.
I
think that, ultimately, juggling teaches the actor to extend him or
herself and learn to handle complicated extraneous activity without
tension or frustration. The actors need to learn to at least look at
peace while juggling. What I look for in actors, actors who juggle and
jugglers, is the ability to go beyond just "getting three balls in
the air."
Five-baller
reacts to everyday
drops By
Brad Heffler Washington, DC During
my past two years of relatively serious juggling, I have often wondered
what separates the advanced juggler from the rest of the population. I am
not referring to the actual ability to keep a multitude of balls dancing
in the air, but rather to the subtle differences in a juggler's day.
I
think I noticed the difference first right after perfecting my five-ball
cascade. It's obvious that better reflexes and quicker reaction time
characterize the serious juggler. But, until you read this, you might not
notice that, for those quicker folks, almost nothing hits the ground
around them. I'm not talking about juggling props, but about everyday
items.
When
an object is dropped, it almost seems to freeze in the air while you grab
it before it hits the ground. I
remember several examples last week to illustrate my point. A bar of soap
slipped out of my hand, only to be caught by my other hand after falling
about one foot. My roomate knocked an empty glass off the table, which I
barely grabbed six inches from the floor.
I'm sure that after reading this, you will begin to notice similar incidents in your day. So, the next time you spot someone at the next table grab a falling fork out of the air, go ask him how his fiveball cascade is coming. |
Craig Turner instructs an aspiring actress at the U. of Washington. |