Fire performance gear sold in shops is built for one person: a generic performer who never existed. Handles the wrong length. Weight in the wrong place. Wicks that burn too hot or starve too fast. The first time I tried to perform with an off-the-shelf staff I spent the whole set fighting it instead of moving with it.
So I started building my own. Every piece in the collection has a reason behind it — a routine it was made for, a drop it needed to hit, a stage size it had to fill. The staffs are weighted to match the speed I spin them at. The fans are a size that reads at the back of the crowd without being so big they catch wind.
None of this is magic. It’s just time. Measuring, burning, adjusting, burning again. When something works, you remember. When it doesn’t, you learn quickly.
The tools are part of the performance. They’re made the same way the shows are made: from scratch, in the dark, until they’re right.
