Burning passion

On my 10th birthday my parents decided to get me something a little bit different than the standard gift you might expect for a 10-year-old.

It all started one summer night, with a family walk down at Cronulla beach in the evening, off in the distance, standing in the whitewash, I saw a man dancing around, rhythmically spinning two brilliant flames in the low light, their glowing reflection bouncing off the rolling waves, the same colour and intensity as the sun setting behind them. As we drew closer the smell of kerosene filled my already entranced senses. At the time it was just something that looked exciting and dangerous, which of course as a child I wanted to be a part of. Looking back nearly 20 years later I could have never imagined the profound effect this moment would have on my life, as it was then that I decided I wanted to be a fire twirler.

It is hard to say why this was so appealing to me, I do not have the greatest memories of my childhood, but I do remember the first time I held a lit fire-staff I was put into a world of my own, the near blinding flames blocked out all others from my vision, and the roaring sound of spinning fire silenced everything else. it was simultaneously a way for me to escape to a happy place, and a vent through which I could perform and express myself. I have always been a very visually minded person, and this is the perfect medium for me to purposefully display my emotions in controlled rhythms and aesthetic movements to an audience.

The first fire-staff they bought for me was second-hand, an older adult-sized staff, way to big for me at the time, bound in a leather handle and charred black from many previous burns, but I could not have been happier with this new outlet for my creative energy. I carried this staff through my early teenage years showing off to anyone who would watch me, slowly gaining new skills and tricks, until eventually taking on new fire Poi and two shorter fire batons. Today I have accumulated a huge collection of fire tools, consisting of at least twenty pieces: fire-swords, fire fans, even fire-whips, you name it, I’ve lit one on fire…

Over the years I have busked, performed for hundreds of people at events, broken a world record gathering 117 people together to fire twirl in the same location. I have even taught many children and adults this skill, and passion of mine. One of my greatest joys comes from teaching children how to fire-twirl, their mystified eyes remind me of myself all those years before, innocent and amazed.

Now at nearly 30 years later, I cherish those times when I can disappear to light up a fire-staff and dance into a world of my own, all while entertaining anyone who might be viewing. I like nothing more than to head out to the beach at night and meditate on my own transient mode of expression. To think such a loud and vibrant spectacle is my source of introspection seems contradictory, but when I am out there performing regardless of who or how many are watching, I know that I am completely alone, purposefully isolated in my solitary movements, hypnotized and embraced by the fire.

I have spent a lot of time contemplating why it resonates with me the way it does, why I draw so much inner peace from fire-twirling. being a creative thinker, abstract painter and avid music lover, I am often drawn to the phrase ‘art decorates space, and music decorates time’. Perhaps this is why I am drawn to fire twirling, as it is an artform of my own that does both.