Adventures at a poi stall: What is it, a flag?

It is cold. And windy. And I can’t feel my toes. To think that this is a situation I have intentionally put myself into! On the upside, the sun is peeping over the hills, melting the morning’s frost as it goes. My plastic cup of over-hot tea in my gloved hands, I contemplate the world in general and my own little place in it. Why on God’s green earth am I sitting in a huddle outside a tent that has frost on it – seriously, there is frost on the apex! – clutching tea and praying that I won’t need to go to the loo until it has warmed up enough to take off a layer or three? Aah, yes, that little thing called Marketing.

Not the cushy office version of Marketing that has fresh cinnamon buns and branded give-aways, no, this is Real Life Marketing, otherwise known as “having a stall”. We are a unique bunch, Marketers. Some of us have “other jobs” that we go to every weekday, but all of us regularly descend on an unsuspecting village that is having an Exhibition, Fair or Craft Market. We move in and take over the village gardens, halls or, as in this case, the Sports Grounds. Like mushrooms, our tents, gazebos and other assorted - and occasionally tacky - structures grow until the field is unrecognisable.

I should move. In a short while The Public, that elusive creature that we traipse around the countryside looking for, will arrive and my scruffy slept-in-a-tent look will be frowned upon. As I watch, other stall holders emerge, shrouded in assorted coats and blankets, oblivious to anything other than getting ready for the onslaught of customers. Instead, I snuggle deeper into my wrappings and sip more tea.

Now two hours later, the table has stopped steaming, the tent is dry and packed away and I am sitting at my stall with yet another cup of tea, enjoying the sensation of mountain sunshine on my skin. The temperature is now Crisp rather than Toe-Freezing, and I’m ready to take on the mountain folk. The stall looks lovely. Poi of all colours, shapes, weights and designs flutter gently in the breeze, a bright and cheerful corner in amongst other more mutely coloured stalls.

“What are they? Flags?”
“ No, they’re those throwing things, like the warrior people use. To kill enemies, you know? The balls on the end wrap themselves around you, I’ve seen it”
“Really? Even the pink ones?”

I will admit, it is very tempting to sit here and let the conversation continue. I am continually amazed at how people try to explain what they don’t understand. I should stand up and try to explain that they are poi and the aim is not to let them go, although the do have a tendency to wrap themselves around your neck when you are not expecting it. The truth is, I’m battling to contain my self since every time I look at the second speaker, I am imagining him frantically flinging lumo pink ribbon poi at his khaki clad companion. I cannot admit this, you understand, since I’m here to sell poi, not be garrotted by 6 foot farming boys who are not renowned for laughing at themselves.

Deep breath, and I launch into my spiel about how they are for exercise, dance, building stamina and so on, only to have their faces fall.

“So they are not for killing things?”
“No,” I say “ not even the pink ones”

As they stomp off, pushing each other in a show of strength, brawn and extreme non-pinkness, I sit back down. After all, it takes a very special boy to play with poi, regardless of the colours. Most fellows want to go directly to fire without the boring practice version. And while I do have a variety of fire toys with me, I don’t like to encourage the “practise with fire” types. After all, their mother’s said not to play with fire and I don’t cross Mothers if I can help it.

You know how fishing floats will bob on the sea when something is nibbling a the bait? Well, my poi are doing a remarkable impression of that. As I watch, one set of poi bounces ever so slightly on the stand. Peering closer, I see a tiny girl, caught frozen as she tries to pull a set of poi off the rail. She looks at me and I look at her. I love teaching poi to kids. Unlike adults, they don’t over analyze or dissect the actions, they either like poi or they don’t. They do however, get very shy and this little deer like creature is at the point of bolting.

I take my own set of poi, well worn to the point that they are extensions of my fingers, and make a big show of how to put the finger loops on.

She watches.

I swing them gently, taking care to do only the simplest moves so that she can follow if she chooses to.

She watches.

I play for a while, then move towards her to help her put her fingers into the loops – kids have such stumpy fingers, there is an art to stuffing them into the loops. Still she stands there, looking torn between staying and playing and running back to mum.

I swing, she swings. We swing together. I have an imaginary voice in my head that narrates as if we were in a child’s reading book, “Jane swings, John swings. Watch them swing” . She is following my movements so I try a gentle cross-over. She tries, smacks herself and is gone. It is almost a single movement, so fast I can do nothing but watch her retreating as fast as her pint-sized legs can go. But she will be back, I know she will. I hang the poi on a lower rail so she can get to them when she wants to try again. And she will want to try again. I know this because as I sit down I see her standing across the field, swinging her arms and looking at my stall. The poi bug has bitten. All I need to do is wait.

Skye Fyre and the Zen of Fire Dancing

Skye Fyre

I am a fire dancer. I’m not the world’s best, but I love flinging flaming balls around my head, and do so at any possible moment. My wardrobe is split into “flammable” and “non-flammable” and I’ve given up on perfume, since I smell of paraffin most of the time anyway. Long before I was labelled a “paraffin head” by a friend, I would lug a great smelly box of weird and wonderful toys around wherever I went. Ribbon poi, flag poi, fire chains and all of the paraphernalia that goes with my odorous hobby of choice. Of course, I’m lucky. Unlike many others, I’m friends with people who know what poi are and are not afraid to fling them. I was introduced to poi via such a friend who makes beautiful hand painted sandbag poi. Whilst at a local craft market, I spotted a group of people all throwing their arms about and laughing as they wrapped pretty ribbons around themselves. Curiosity got the better of me, and I bought my very own set of poi. Part dance, part exercise, part defy-the-laws-of-gravity, I began experimenting. Accompanied by a lot of slapping noises, grunts and some well chosen expletives, I stumbled down the path to being a miniature ribbon rainbow all by myself. Bruised, battered and somewhat fitter, I enjoyed ribbon poi as a form of frustrating exercise, less relaxing than yoga but with as many pretzel moves.

Then I discovered fire.

Ribbon poi are pretty, safe and make one feel a little like a storybook fairy. Fire on the other hand, well. How would you feel taking one of the natural forces of the world and making it dance around your body? Fire makes me feel amazing. Adrenaline and warm, fuzzy feelings compete with a healthy dose of “this is crazy!” All the problems of life are out there, on the other side of the flames and nothing is important except keeping the flames moving. There is nothing in life quite the same as voluntarily stepping inside a ball of flames, separated from you only by the length of your own arms. Everyone loves staring into a bonfire, imagining shapes and patterns in the sparks and dancing flames. We take it one step further by directing the flames, making sensuous, flowing movements and intricate designs, limited only by the control we have over our bodies and how much paraffin we brought.

One of the quirks of fire dancing is that everyone can see you. It is not possible to play with fire incognito, I know, I’ve tried. Fire does not come with a dimmer switch. Either you are flaming, or you are not. Combine the fact that it is impossible to fire dance inconspicuously, with the magnetic attraction flames have for most people, and even the most inept beginner soon has a gathering of awed onlookers. This can be quite intimidating, especially if you are not confident in your own abilities. The upside is, unless you are predisposed to wrapping the poi around your head, usually resulting in the unmistakable smell of singed hair and some mild cursing, you can look quite skilled as long as you have mastered the basics. Like many forms of dance, the real trick is to make it look easy.

There are as many different styles of fire dancing as there are types of fire toys. Some people prefer heavy poi, perfect for sharp stops and redirections, mathematically precise moves that seem more like optical illusions than dance moves. Others like to go with the flow, choosing lighter poi that waft gently through the air, seemingly undirected by the dancer. These appeal to the fire fairies amongst us, waif like creatures that shimmy through the crowds, usually leaving a trail of body glitter wherever they go. Then there are the macho type who chose poi with handles especially designed to be thrown high in the air whilst the dancer does forward rolls and back flips. Impressive to watch and just a little dangerous to have around the house, these dancers, male and female, have six pack abs and discrete burn scars. Fire fans, flaming snakes, fire darts, whips, and double headed poi are all options, creating awe inspiring visuals and far reaching heat waves.

Some people have one set of poi and these become like extensions of their arms. Others get bored quickly and charge through variations as fast as their credit cards will allow. Me, I like to have lots of toys. I crave different poi like others crave gourmet food. They don’t need to be expensive, but they must be hardy and reliable. Broken poi are a real mood killer. I want to be able to match the poi with the music, the venue, the atmosphere and my own mercurial moods. Fast music needs heavy poi that respond quickly to commands. Lighter weight poi will drift alongside the late night ballads. There is nothing like fire snakes to make the world notice you.

Poi dancing can be gentle, seductive, aggressive, provocative, meditative and an aphrodisiac. Control over one’s hips and core muscles make for good sex and better poi-ing. Combine sensuous moves and the heat and sounds of fire and almost anyone is attracted. Poi as an art form can be used to express any emotion. At the same time, your own personality will under lie your dance style and it is not un common to be able to identify who is poi-ing just by the way they dance. Interestingly, shy people often find poi, and especially fire poi, help them to come out of their shell and discover their sensuality. No one knows – or really cares – that you can’t make small talk if you can make fire dance like a voluptuous woman.

For me, poi is part dance and mostly meditation. Sure, I have on occasion used my abilities to get the attention of the cute fellow in the corner, and I have been known to sell my skills as a performer, payment coming in the form of an envelope of cash and the occasional tequila, but the majority of the time I dance for myself. You are welcome to watch if you wish, but I’m not dancing for your entertainment as much as for the sheer thrill of dancing. Meditation in the conventional sense has never appealed to me. It is too stationary, too restrictive, just plainly too boring. Fire dancing on the other hand is fluid, energetic and extremely controlled at the same time. When one is truly in tune with the poi, the mind seems to split. One half is completely focused on keeping the spinning orbs spinning as they should, and the other half heads off into the wilds of the human mind. Like tai chi and martial arts, the control is such that it becomes second nature. Repeatedly making the same moves turns simple actions into ritual. As with spirituality, meditation is a uniquely personal experience. I dance in joy, in celebration, when I’m searching for answers and when I’m in mourning. Fire is used by the religions of the world for various aspects of purity, cleansing, healing and supplication. I can relate to this. I use fire to protect, to embrace, enveloping me in a sacred space that I created! Occasionally I’ll open the circle, inviting someone into what has been dubbed a “fire hug”, which is basically dancing around someone else. Mostly though, I dance alone in my bubble. As I say, you are most welcome to watch, but forgive me if I don’t notice that you are there.

What is Fire and Lights?

Do you know what poi are? What about a diablo? Want to become a suspension artist? Want to know what suspension art actually entails? Looking for a clown, juggler, off road unicyclist? Yes, you do get off road unicyclists, something I only discovered recently. What about a pyrotechnician or a hoopster?

I could go on; the list of unusual arts is as varied as the artists themselves are. The point is, where would one find someone who performs these arts and how would one go about learning the skills for oneself?

Simple answer, go to http://www.fireandlights.net/.

Fire and Lights started because I couldn’t find what I was looking for. I had bought a set of ribbon poi, but they did not really appeal to me, at least, not as much as the flaming kind did. But how was I to find the flaming kind, especially since I was not totally sure what they were called?

Eventually, I found some. They are amazing and I still use this original set on a regular basis. Only now, I have other sets too. Monkey fists, fire snakes, glo poi that flash, glo poi that change colour. I have a diablo and a magic stick that I can’t yet properly control.

Interestingly, as I started to source performance art equipment for myself, people started asking me for other things. I was phoned by someone wanting a unicycle, someone else wanted the chemicals to make purple flames and a complete stranger hounded me to find her a flaming hula hoop. One little girl was desperate for a juggler for her birthday.

I realised that there were as many performance arts as there were people wanting to learn about them. The problem is, unless you are part of the “in crowd” of performers, they are an elusive bunch. If you know a fire breather, then you know who to ask to blow fire at your party. If, however, the closest you’ve got to a fire breather is your uncle after his bottle of scotch, then it is not so easy.

That is where Fire and Lights comes into the picture. We are an online, world wide directory of performance arts. We have listings of people who perform, people who sell the products involved, and the places to go to play. There are entire communities out there that gather on a regular basis to practise, chat, swop skills and compare tricks. We will put you in contact with them.

So, if you are bored with conventional sports or have a desire to do something a little different, or have a skill that entertains others, have a look at the site. We are new, but we are growing. We are open to suggestions and criticisms, since the best way to develop is to know what people want.

Would you like to advertise your skills or products on the site? Simply fill in the online form and it is done. Are you looking for someone with a particular skill and can’t find him? Search the keywords, or email us and we will see what we can find. If your art of choice is not listed, let us know and we will try to make a category for you.

Fire and Lights is dynamic and interactive. Billed as the link between performers and their audience, suppliers and their customers, Fire and Lights is the place to be seen, flaming swords and all.

Skye Fyre