Interview with Sword Swallower Roderick Russell (part 2 of 3)

SW: Now let’s step a few years back in time and learn what is was that influenced you to want to learn the acts. What are your first memories of show business and how did they influence you?

RR: Truth be told, it wasn’t until I was a late teenager that I became interested in “show business” at all, and it was for entirely utilitarian reasons.

I’ve always been interested in communicating more effectively and more creatively, and it is this interest that drove me to become a musician, fueled my love of literature, led me to teaching and, ultimately, to the stage.

We’re all on an enormously wonderful journey, discovering new things all the time and all progressing to a more full understanding of who we are and what our place in this universe is. It’s my hope that by performing, I can share some of what I’ve learned, pose questions which are intriguing me, and learn from the audience of their own experiences and progress down this path of life. It’s a cooperative journey.

SW: So the teacher is the student and the student becomes the teacher. What do you gain from your audience as the student and what do you teach your audience as the teacher?

RR: Well, it’s hard to claim what I teach the audience. I think that it’s different for many people, but it all probably revolves around universal principles of human potential. I’d hope, however, that I can also present simple beauty and grace in some of my routines – does that teach anything? But I am quick to point out that, even if one has a certain underlying message that they’d like to communicate, by no means should you beat your audience over the head with it. If you do that, then you become no better than a caricature of a late-night infomercial. Instead, if you truly believe and live what you’d like to teach, it will come out naturally, effortlessly and without a “hidden agenda” feel to it. The people will be seeing you, and that is the message.

Then there’s the question about what I learn from the audience. The real question should be what don’t I learn from the audience? I learn more and more about myself each time I do a show. I learn about how my ego works and affects me (perhaps how it doesn’t work). I learn how to cooperate, negotiate and yes, even coerce. I learn about what we take for granted and presuppose – and I learn how to exploit it. What, you thought that it would all be on the up and up? No, I learn about both the good and the bad.

More than anything I’ve learned through speaking and sharing with so many people, is that each and every person, regardless of social, ethnic, racial or any other divisional category, has deeply felt and intense concerns, each person is an individual and people are, on the whole, very decent and kind people. I often take this view for granted myself, but then occasionally catch myself making pronouncements about this or that group of people – the political right, conservatives, religious fundamentalists – and I have to step back and remember that even those that are part of groups and organizations that I don’t agree with are individuals too. Oftentimes, and unfortunately, they have radically different priorities when operating as part of the group – but at the core they too are simply human. I’ve forged profound connections – as a result of my stage work – with people who’s views I radically oppose. We are nevertheless able to relate and inspire on a fundamental level. And if nothing else, it’s taught me how to creep inside another person’s head and view the world through their eyes, helping me to understand motivation behind actions and appreciate the world more richly.

SW: What was the reaction of your family when they learned about your interest?

RR: I left home at a very early age and never really had much of a family. I’ve always been close with the one sister that I have, though we’ve often gone years without contact, yet despite that she seems proud of the things that I do – and probably gets a kick out of telling her friends that her brother is a sword swallower.

The one (non-blood) family that I was fortunate enough in later life to become a part of have always accepted what I do without condition. They worry for my safety, of course, but know also that I’m as safe as one can be doing what I do. Let’s just say that, though they didn’t celebrate it, they did trust me enough to drag their children through the coals – literally.

SW: Did they try to talk you out of entering the business?

RR: When I made the leap from a secure career with benefits and a steady paycheck into the unpredictable world of full-time entertainment, they had their doubts. The reservations were entirely in regards to the financial viability of it. I’m glad to say that they no longer have any reservations – and neither do I!

SW: You say you don’t have any reservations. Do you have any regrets, and if you were to do things again what would you change?

RR: I have not a single regret. Surely, I could have done things better, but as they say about hindsight… If I were to choose one thing to change regarding the path I took to a career on the stage, I would choose to do it sooner than I did. I certainly didn’t come to it late in life, but when I consider the creative lifestyle that I lead today, it seems obvious that this is where I am supposed to be. But then, everything comes in its own time…

And a quick note about regrets… One should never regret, unless it’s regrets about not learning from your mistakes.

SW: What were the first stunts you learned and why did you choose them?

RR: The first thing I learned was actually juggling, and that’s what I performed for my first audience as well. I was constantly seeking to add more and more to the juggling. More balls, more clubs, more variety, and so on. I’m sure that anyone who has become obsessed with juggling at any point in their life knows what I’m talking about.

But the more, more, more also led to more and more dangerous. Knives, torches, and then assorted bladed weapons such as sickles, axes and so on. And then I started doing them blindfolded, on stilts, and on, and on, and on. It seemed that there was no end.

While juggling one time in upstate New York, ironically passing torches with a partner over a “No Smoking” sign at an antique boat museum, the person that I was juggling with taught me how to extinguish a torch in my mouth – in theory at least. But that one demonstration and academic (rather than practical) education was all that was needed. Thus was born a new obsession.

I devoured everything I could on the topic, read and studied every passing reference in every book I could find, talked with numerous people of varying skill levels and took my first precarious steps into the world of fire manipulation. I remember well the first time that I tried to extinguish a torch on my own.

I practiced for endless hours just placing the unlit torch in my mouth, trying not to touch any skin, lips or tongue. When I finally lit the torch for the first time and lowered it towards my mouth, the heat was extremely intense. I watched the flame closely as I lowered it closer and closer to my mouth. It disappeared past my nose and the heat was excruciating! I was convinced that it had gone all the way in my mouth, but not quite brave enough yet to close my mouth around it I pulled it back – very triumphantly – and turned to the person supervising the situation and asked “did it go in?”. To my dismay I was met with a “no, it was still about two inches away from your mouth”.

Since then my torches have tripled in size, I gratefully slobber fuel and fire all over my skin and – though I have a healthy respect for fire (as all fire performers should!) – perform all manner of manipulations without a second thought as to the intensity of the heat. It’s amazing how perceptions change with time and experience.

Developing almost simultaneously with the obsession with fire, however, was escape. I pursued the usual path of fire – eating to breathing to walking – along with the usual path of escape – ropes, chains, locks, cuffs, jackets and so on. I would spend endless hours picking locks, and trips to the hardware store with my friends became a special delight, because I’d always bring home one of every type of lock they had in stock.

Sword swallowing, though arguably my signature act, came later in the process once I began performing more regularly and started putting together a stage show that really embodied my thoughts and ideas. Unlike many of the other stunts that I do – which resulted from logical progression and subsequent obsession with the topic – the pursuit of sword swallowing was a very conscious decision and represents by far the most prolonged, studious and intense learning process. In contrast to the other stunts, which I enjoyed learning, sword swallowing was uncomfortable each and every single day and never once did I enjoy the training process. I was obsessed with the idea much more than the actual physical act, but that was more than enough to drive me to achieve success.

SW: You have learned much in your career, what would you recommend to a person thinking about learning the acts? What is the safest and best way to go about learning and what are the consequences and long-term effects on your/their health?

RR: I suspect that my sentiments would echo many others out there; learn from an experienced professional in a hands-on environment. Supplement that training with the most thorough research you’ve ever done. Pursue it for the right reason (and know your reasons!). Risking your life to breath fire or swallow a sword is an exceptionally ridiculous way to discover that all you need is a little attention. Beyond all else, remain mindful and safe.

You ask about the long term effects on health, and this is a very serious consideration. I use many toxic chemicals in my fire routines, and I often ingest a large volume of them. What people don’t see is all the work that goes into protecting my body prior to the show – and I suppose that I didn’t mention this when considering the question you asked about the immediate pre-show preparations, because it extends into my daily life. I take care of my body. I make sure that it is healthy and functioning in top form. And when I drink those chemical concoctions, I do all I can to assure that I absorb as little of them as possible. This is probably getting more personal than you had hoped, but post-show, I make sure that the chemicals leave my body as quickly and effortlessly as possible as well. Yet none of this is assurance against danger, and that’s the kicker. You can do everything you possibly can to protect yourself, but when it comes down to it, at the end of the day you’re still swigging a carcinogenic chemical cocktail. Imagine the possibilities if you add to that a disrespect for your body!

As soon as these dangerous stunts become your full-time profession, the variables change. It’s suddenly no longer about how big of a fireball you can blow or how many “tricks” you can do with the fire, but what you can afford to do for the show and the audience over the long-term while minimizing chemical burn, limiting your ingestion and remaining safe today. When you’re an amateur you can afford to do more wild things, because you’re not doing them twenty times a day every day. Your priorities change when you become a professional, and for some people, their ego can’t handle it and they then find themselves in the emergency room.

All this talk is of course of only one stunt as well! The dangers extend far beyond the long-term chemical dangers. In fact, fire performing is one of the fastest and surest ways to injure yourself. Unfortunately, because it doesn’t seem like rocket science, it’s extremely accessible for people to try without proper instruction. That’s why there are so very many injuries in the field. It’s a result of unmindful amateurs seeking to do something “cool” to impress their girlfriends – they abandon reason, common sense and reality, and find themselves crashing back into it very hard. I know firsthand (and foot, and mouth, and arms!) that burns are not fun.

Other stunts, such as sword swallowing, are thankfully less accessible to amateurs. It takes dedicated daily practice and years of intentionally inducing discomfort, which just isn’t a formula for stupid people injuring themselves. Most wouldn’t put that much effort into it. Still though, there are those…

SW: Where did you start performing? Was it for your family, friends, school? How was it received and was it a driving factor in you becoming a professional?

RR: I began performing the stunts for close friends. They were exceptionally supportive, and I would take every opportunity to try new material and techniques. If it were not for friends and the endless hours that they spent tying me up, I’m certain that I wouldn’t be performing today.

My first show was a charity event, before I had even considered performing at all. I juggled for recreational purposes, but when a group organizing a local charity event heard that I was a good juggler, they asked me to do a show. I put a little something together, and immediately caught the performing bug. It was at that moment, with all of the questions that followed the show, that I realized that performing represented an unparalleled opportunity to communicate ideas.

I seized the opportunity to perform at a few more small venues and events, free of charge, to help me decide whether or not what I was experiencing was repeatable and personally worthwhile, and it was the continued success of performing that led me to the pursuit of better material, better presentation and better venues – and a paycheck.

My first official show as a paid performer was a corporate event for Inc. Magazine. Though I’d never been so nervous in my life, it was an exhilarating experience and I felt as if I’d found my home. That, and the paycheck was nice. Following that I did more and more corporate events and started doing private high schools. It wasn’t long before I realized that I could make this my full-time profession.

SW: Speaking of charitable events, I’ve heard from a lot of performers that they are asked to perform for free or for “the experience” at these events. And if it’s the media (television, documentaries, etc.) they are told it’s for the “exposure”. What has your experience been and how have you handled promoters and the media?

RR: When you’re first starting out as a performer, you should certainly perform wherever you can. It’s not about a paycheck, it about experience.

And it’s also not about exposure. When you’re starting out, exposure is the last thing that you want! You want experience and a place to be bad. We all need a place to be bad, and it’s best if it’s not in the wider public’s eye.

But as you progress and begin to perform for a living, you naturally can’t afford to do very many “free” or “charity” shows. There’s something to be said for donating to a charity, and in that sense, if there is a charity that you genuinely believe in and would like to donate to, go for it – it’s your donation. But don’t do it for any other reason – not exposure, not publicity, not experience.

If I do a charity show today, I get paid. Sometimes I’ll discount my fee a bit, but I still make sure that it’s absolutely worth my while. But I do go out of my way to help them find creative ways of raising the money to pay for me. Ticket sales, sponsorships, raffles and so on. I’ll even sit for a limited number of media interviews to help garner support for the charity. But I’d never do it without a guaranteed fee. It’s business. They are paying me a fee to attract attention and provide entertainment that will result in raising even more money. It’s business for them too.

SW: A lot of performers start by performing clubs, on the street and at Renaissance faires. Have any of these venues been a part of your experience and how do the audiences differ?

RR: I can’t offer up any insight into the club and street scenes, as I must confess I’ve never done them, but I am a regular at Renaissance faires. You mention that a lot of performers start by working these events, but with me it’s been quite the opposite.

When I was younger I had always loved events like Renaissance faires and was an avid “gamer” – Dungeons & Dragons primarily. I believe that a stage performer needs to have a very vivid and active imagination, and this has always been true of myself. Couple this love of fantasy worlds and Renaissance history with the ability to deliver a stage show, and there you’ll find a Renaissance faire entertainer.

After a few years of performing full-time I discovered that, though I was finding financial security in my new profession, I did have a large chunk of time during the summer that was largely empty. The college, theater and corporate performing seasons run primarily from the fall through the spring and keep me active during that time. But I discovered that I really don’t like going very long without performing, and so I looked into the possibility of performing at Renaissance faires. Though I would be presenting shows that were the polar opposite of my theater shows, dressing up, playing a character, camping and having fun with thousands of people every day – all while getting paid – seemed like a fun, almost vacation-like way to spend my summers. I took the plunge.

The Renaissance shows really are an entirely different animal from my normal work, but the psychology and stagecraft translates nicely. And where the conditions force me to change the style of stagecraft, I do so with delight, learning and growing all the while.

My biggest concern was that, in a faire or festival environment, I’d naturally have to let go of a lot of the stylistic choices that make my work what it is and resort instead to down and dirty tactics to get the crowd, keep them riveted and show them a good time. I really felt that I’d be performing for the “masses”, and that means not only the good crowds, but also the really bad ones. My biggest fear was that I would find myself catering to such a wide variety of people within a show format that does not allow for much development, that my own thoughts and subtleties – what makes my art mine – would be lost. For better or for worse – and sideshow veterans know this all too well – you really have to be a salesman in these environments, and there is a decidedly MTV-like mentality amongst the crowd – a desire on their part to be entertained, have no demands placed upon them and have continuously rolling stimulation. I feared the loss of my self amidst the entertainment. But what I’ve discovered has delighted me endlessly, and the truth is much more different than what one would expect.

You see, we do all have a much more limited attention span these days – and perhaps not only these days, perhaps it’s been with us all along – and you do have to impress them quickly, hook them, if you will. But if you hook them, drag them into your magical world of wonder where you are constructing a personal experience for each and every spectator, and you establish your character strongly enough such that they like you, trust you and you seem open and honest, but with a little something extra being held back to make them intrigued and keep them curious, you can have all the suspense, all the riveting silence, all the drama you want – even in a five minute show. So you see, even though the routines are different, the stunts play out in a radically different way and I have twenty five minutes rather than ninety, it’s still possible to create that transformative experience for each and every spectator.

It matters not if I’m “sophisticated” and “intelligent” or “folksy” and “down-to-earth”, the result is the same, and it comes through the power of conviction and authentic performance.

But the proof is in the pudding. After each show at the Renaissance faires I am swamped with people saying “I’ve never seen anything like that before”, despite the fact that they saw another entertainer do a version of it on another stage an hour earlier. And the questions after each show often keep me busy until the next, for everyone wants to talk about what I did, why I did it and, most importantly, what it means for them in their lives. While at these events I hear story after story from spectators of personal triumph, hardships, experiences along the road of life, questions of an oftentimes profound nature and the drives and motivations of each and every person who speaks to me. It’s truly inspiring to know that I’ve touched people in this way, touched them so much that they want to share, to learn and to not only take away something from the show, but give something back to me as an individual, for sharing so deeply with them. I grow with every person that I speak to.

Notably absent from all questions is any mention of how. Sure, some people have questions regarding the mechanics of sword swallowing, for it’s certainly an intriguing subject, but never do they care how I create the magic that they experience. Only that I did. That is very telling.

So in sum, do the audiences differ? Sure. Different sorts of people go to different sorts of events, and are drawn towards different types of entertainment. I’ve had to radically alter my shows to fit audience style, theme format and time constraints. But if I do my job properly, the outcome is the same.

I’ll be the first to admit that this surprised me. Delightfully so! And now I look forward to my summer vacations wearing Renaissance clothing.

John Robinson, Melvin Burkhart, Pain Control, Regurgitation, Roderick Russell, Stevie Starr, Todd Robbins, dance, fakir, fire eating, human blockhead, performance art, performing arts, sideshow, sideshow world, sword swallower, sword swallowing, taiko, tango