‘Shelter Me’, by Circumference

Theatre Delicatessen; 2nd July 2015

Deservedly glowing reviews of #ShelterMe have appeared all over, so this is something a little different… An experience…

(Will probably look awful on mobile. Apologies)

Behind the imposing office formality, Circumference present a world of surprises in the most exciting thing to happen to circus theatre in the last decade.

I am about to go on a personal journey in the shared company of many fleeting new friends. My relationship with my phone will be a big part of this journey…

We’re being invited to have fun here, to be playful. So that’s how my review will be.

Our hosts are gentle with us, warm. Inviting us to join in, but as much or as little as we feel comfortable with.  There is touch. a shaken hand, a patted shoulder, assistance. There are games.  There’s an exploration.  There are gentle introductions, meetings. They develop as trust grows.

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Where do we feel safe? Where do we feel Comfort? Where are our boundaries with other people, strangers?

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The text won’t go through. Is this a one-way relationship?

We’re fed a text history of Nich Galzin and Aislinn Mulligan‘s relationship as they live out its consequence above the concrete.

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Then the wonderland becomes stranger, less cohesive, more intriguing…

A glittering cave of technological debris that, devoid of any direct human agency, seems to have developed its own form of ‘life’.

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I remember… I’m supposed to be searching for someone…

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Ellie Rose Rusbridge in a softly sung haven.

Mulligan on umbilical silks. Beatific smile. Legs seemingly following their own impulses, gaze exploratory.

Isolation.

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A place to ask questions to the void, with answers spewing incongruously, amusingly, from speakers. An infinite number of monkeys…

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Needy.

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I liked it in the small crowded dark room they gently ushered us into. We got talking. Didn’t want to leave.

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Overheard: ‘This makes you open yourself up to anything’ ‘Like drinking coffee’

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Surrounded by a circle of onlookers, Helena Reynolds spins her hula hoops, then stops. Disjointed moment.

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She’s real! I should have trusted them all along!

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It feels right to hold hands.

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All this city. All these people. 

Belonging. Don’t try too hard to understand everything. Dusk over the city is beautiful. We’re beautiful. Together.

They’ve been so tender with us. Smiles on the aerialist’s faces, tears in my eyes. Simplicity is so hard to remember.

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In the bar, I talk to new friends Dan and Anne-Marie about how different our personal revelations were.  I give my complimentary gin to someone who lacks a drink, and run to catch my train, buoyant.

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