The
main point I want to make today is that you must
understand the reason you do what you do, whether you do it
on stage or on TV or locked away in a room somewhere.
One
of the biggest treasures you have is that you never forget
how difficult it was to
learn something. The things most meaningful to me took me
through entirely new directions of technique. But if you
just see someone else do it and imitate them without going
through the process, it's takes a severe slice out of your
imagination. I don't think anyone's creative process is
enhanced by taking that easiest route.
Process
to me is the most sacred thing any artist can have. I
consider myself an artist because I take risks, and it means
more to me than life itself to plow through those risks. I
believe that if you do it right, developing a technique by
taking a risk and giving up a part of your life going after
it, you can discover some of the bedrock of humanity. You'll
know you've reached that bedrock and everyone else will know
it also. You can go all over the world performing that
technique and you'll be able to tell that it pulls people
out
of themselves.
".
Consider
the first piece I created, the " crystal balls. It
meant the most to me of all
my work because that piece was about somebody close to me
who was told they were going to die. How would you feel
going though that experience with someone?
Before
that I had been a club passer and
ball juggler. But I was dissatisfied because I wasn't saying
anything to anyone. So I went away to Berlin and looked over
Karl-Heinz Ziethen's archives and became so humbled and
humiliated by the physical skills I lacked in comparison to
these great jugglers that when
I
came back and found that this close friend was dying, I
secluded myself away.
I
spent six years alone with every kind of ball I could find,
and learned many techniques with them. I had seen a crystal
ball years before and thought it was the most beautiful
object because it was so fragile and pure. There I was
secluded in the woods of Vermont, and I worked and worked
and worked with these balls and finally something happened
with the crystal ball through this experience of death close
by and my humility over my own lack of technique.
So
when you want to create a new technique, where should you
start? The first thing I did in trying to create something
new was to determine the rule I wanted to follow. The rule
was more important than all the tricks I had learned before,
because the only thing a creative artist has is process, and
process follows rules. The rule I set up with my crystal
ball was that I'd never close my hand around it. That was
all. The reason I chose that rule was that I felt such a
tightness closing in inside of me because someone was going
to die that I had to find a way of opening up.
Closing
your hand around something gives you power over it. If you
choose not to close your hands around it, you leave it free
and make yourself more vulnerable.
I
started with the crystal ball in the palm of my open hand,
and sat there for a long
time. I tried to move it and dropped it a lot. Slowly I
started to understand that I could move my hand underneath
it and keep it in one place. It was quite a rush. As a
creative artist I was giving up part of myself to be its
constantly changing support, just moving around under it.
Then
I set up the rule that I'd try to move my hands in various
planes, and that I'd never throw the ball in the air because
it cuts that connectedness between you and the object.
Eventually I started rolling the ball in my hand back and
forth, and from the palm to the back of the hand. The
realization that I could do that was a long journey from the
first moment I picked it up. And it all came from the
creative artist setting the rules of never closing the hand
and never throwing the ball.
If
people want to be interpretive artists on
someone else's creative efforts, they should
at least understand that process. The process isn't a
commodity, something for sale or that you buy. When you
start out to make something, you don't know you're going to
make anything worth crap. You're just going into a dark
comer and hoping to find some light.
I'm
very proprietary about those explorations that I've given up
a great part of my life for. I respect others who do the
same and I cringe when I see someone who has simply stolen a
technique. If I were to inspire anything in other jugglers,
it would be to have them live and suffer their emotions.
I
don't know what each of you wants to do
with juggling. But that crystal ball fulfilled
my need as a creative artist. I was so damn happy for
going through that process and creating something that no
one else was doing.
Years
before I did the crystal ball, I saw Don Reed cross his
hands and just diddle with a ball in each hand in a silly
way. I said that was great, and slowly that experience of
seeing Don do that made me try to do more than one crystal
ball in my hand and slowly I took it "ad nauseum"
to the point where now I do four in each hand.
The
challenge for me as a creative artist has always been to
make an expression out of doing something. When I had a
daughter, it always seemed in spirit that was she was
bobbing and weaving between my wife and I. When she was
almost a year old, I was sitting on a couch with my wife
one day, working with three balls in my hand. Suddenly I
pushed one ball over the other two. I realized instantly
that for me it was a perfect metaphor for what a child
does in a parental relationship - you all three roll
around and around, and then a child does something
beautiful and rolls right over you. I knew then I'd be
spending months and months exploring that.
Another
example was in watching my wife nursing our baby. It's
magical, and I felt so helpless because I couldn't do it.
I developed two moves that came from watching that adding
a hand gesture to the rollover and taking a fourth ball
off the top of the three and pulling it around and
putting it in the
other side. It was like caressing the head of the child.
That's where these techniques come from inside me.
Here's
another one. For years I was fascinated with a hoop
spinning on the ground and then losing its spin
slowly to eventually collapse to the ground. For me that's such a great
starting point! It was perfect stability crumbling to
perfect instability. So I took it and worked with it to
where I could move back and forth around it, holding it so
it didn't move at all. Something about moving a circle a
foot and a half answered so many things inside of me. On
so many levels it touched human need. Everyone loves
circles - they're endless, they're campfires, they're an
archetypal image of humanity. And from those initial moves
I have developed a technique of big circles that roll
around me on the floor while I stand inside them.
I've
got a whole file cabinet filled with new pieces I want to
make, but I don't know if any of them is possible. That's
the unknown, and I love it! Give me another file cabinet!
It's the same as Michelangelo saying all he was doing was
cutting away the excess stone to reveal the beauty within.
The creative artist is always banging his head against the
wall.
I
take exception when people abdicate the responsibility of
making judgments and taking responsibilities for what they
do. I take life seriously. Every piece I've ever done is
taken from a life-changing experience or tragedy.
A
healthy person invests in something they can feel in
return. I know the deep dark place where the work came
from, and the sparks of light I found there. Life is
incredibly precious! It's not that I think the world needs
another new juggling technique, because it doesn't.
Waving a crystal ball around just isn't that important.
But my experience in creating that piece has been
incredibly important to me all over the world.
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