
An aerial work that refuses to look like aerial work.
Two performers, a single rope, and a forty-minute meditation on the weight of waiting. We saw it twice and would happily see it again.
For two decades, contemporary circus has been moving indoors — into theatres, art galleries, conservatoires. A small, stubborn cohort of London-based makers is putting the canvas back up.

Two performers, a single rope, and a forty-minute meditation on the weight of waiting. We saw it twice and would happily see it again.

Forty-eight seats, a single piano, and a refreshing lack of pretension.

A diary from the rehearsal of a new ensemble piece — written by an outsider who left mostly confused, and entirely converted.

A first-week diary from one of Europe's quieter clown courses, where the red nose comes out late and the silence comes first.

For five years, every piece has been made with people who never trained.

Twenty years of South London cabaret, catalogued by one woman.

One field, three nights, eighty-six attendees — by design.
"A magazine that takes the work seriously, but never the building. Long may that distinction last."— Letter from a reader, March 2025