Playing with Fire
Written by Sophia Edelblute Capps
Captured by ELLE WAYT
It’s a Friday night and the sun has set over the WJ Skatepark in Eugene, Oregon. Squeaks of shoes on the basketball court, the slams of skateboards hitting pavement and idle chatter echo within graffitied walls. Music plays from a speaker on the ground. The skatepark is a local hangout, a place to be with friends.
For Jackson DiChiara, it’s the perfect spot for playing with fire.
DiChiara juggles fire, and despite starting less than a year ago, he’s pretty good at it. The skill requires the ability to juggle — except the clubs are black, on fire and near impossible to keep track of.
On this night, the rhythmic music grows louder as props are lit and their flames lick the air. DiChiara, 23, a transfer student to the University of Oregon from Lane Community College, steps on the gravelly ground of the park underneath the I-105 with three lit torches. It takes a minute to get into the rhythm, but soon the torches are flying through the air, trailing firelight.
“It’s not fun to do when you’re bad at it,” DiChiara says, “so that’s an incentive [to practice].”
Until last summer he had never been exposed to fire spinning, which is twirling lit rings, hoops, and more complicated props. But his friend, Clarissa Sprague, convinced him to buy his torches. He started by juggling unlit torches, just getting the timing and movements right. It didn’t take long for him to introduce the flames.
The sensation of being on fire, having something on fire, it’s unparalleled. The world disappears and all that’s there is you and your fire,” DiChiara says. “Once you get comfortable with your own ability and once you get comfortable with the fire, then really you’re just eager to get everything on fire.”
The fluorescent lights over the park seem to dim. This small section of Eugene holds its breath to watch the performance. It’s nothing short of mesmerizing. Fire and human working together to create art.
DiChiara heads out regularly to practice his skill. On this March night his performance runs parallel to other fire spinners. After roughly two hours of spinning, and using up most of the fuel, the group, about 20 strong, disbands. The night may be over but DiChiara will be back. He sees playing with fire as an opportunity to reconnect with the natural world.
“We enjoy our modern amenities, but I think in a lot of ways we’ve also domesticated ourselves, and as a result we’ve separated ourselves from basic elements,” he says. “It’s one of our most primitive elements, and without fire we wouldn’t be where we are.”