The Architect

Thomas and I drove to Encinitas to see a juggler who goes by the sobriquet “The Architect.” The drive this time of year is pleasant but I was happy when we finally arrived. The show was arranged at an old ranch—the type of production you know has some poet behind it. We sat under a eucalyptus tree with a good view of the stage, which was maybe the size of a small bedroom. The excitement built as the crowd grew, and when The Architect appeared we burst into applause. The Architect was dressed as a nurse, which at first seemed confusing but after a while began to make sense. His entrance was nothing to speak of, and during the show he barely acknowledged the audience. The show, however, was enthralling.

He began with one red ball, which he easily kept in the air, ease he exaggerated by looking at his watch while the ball went up and down. Then he brought in a second ball and about the time that second ball went up, a sudden breeze crossed the stage. The two balls were easy for him but the insistent little wind was definitely disturbing their trajectory. A third ball went up and a fourth. Each new ball exaggerated the unpredictability of the others, but The Architect didn’t seem to mind the chaos when four or five or six balls were in the air and his skill was enough to hide the balls’ uncertainty. But when the seventh ball went up the situation changed. The Architect’s efforts to compensate for the wind became noticeable and his movement lost some of their grace. The ninth ball ended the act.

We were walking towards our car when we saw the juggler coming out from a barn. He was not wearing the nurse uniform but jeans and a t-shirt. Thomas, who likes to talk to everyone, complimented The Architect on the show. The Architect thanked Thomas, said something about the wind, and introduced himself as Rick Gibson.