This was a refreshing and exuberant double bill blowing away any of my preconceptions about juggling. The first part, Duet, performed by Sean Gandini and Kati Yla-Hokkala, was a beautiful love poem for two bodies. In an atmosphere of 1930s dance hall sophistication, the couple move gently through the many stages of love. The intimacy imposed on the two performers by the juggling balls was fascinating to watch. The two characters had to work together whether they liked it or not. This made for some interesting scenarios where the performers were both literally pulling against each other and acting the pull of conflict within themselves whilst performing coordinated juggling of the most sophisticated nature. One wonders whether relationship therapists could start to recommend juggling to couples as a way into enhanced cooperation and intimacy.

The second part was a more straightforward celebration of jugging in all its forms, performed by Inaki Fernandez Sastre, Sean Gandini, Manu Laude and Kati Yla-Hokkala to a level of extreme precision and perfection. We were treated to syncopated rhythm juggling, tap dancing juggling, flying polos, juggling UV light with magical patterns flying through the air.

Which begs the question: Why is it so exciting and satisfying to watch people throwing things in the air? Is it for the same satisfaction that we look at the work of artists such as Bridget Riley, to see intricate and interweaving patterns moving before our eyes? Suspended objects in the air inspire some sort of magical awe, in the same way that fireworks do. Why? Answers, please, to...