I am in Montreal. The first stop of a three-festival Canadian tour with Club Origami, and I’m writing this with the weekend still buzzing in me.
The festival is called Festival Petits Bonheurs — which translates, loosely, as tiny good times. I can’t think of a more fitting name for what we do. Six shows over the weekend, presented in a cultural centre that also houses a library, a little outside the city centre. Quebec is, of course, French-speaking, and there’s something about presenting work here — in this particular linguistic and cultural pocket of North America — that feels distinct from anywhere else we’ve toured.
Baptism by Paper
The first show of the first day was a school group. From what I could observe, the children were coming from a more deprived area — and they arrived with energy that needed somewhere to go.
I’m going to be honest: that first show felt like a baptism.
There’s something I’ve noticed touring nationally and internationally — when children come from environments where they don’t have much space or permission to release, a show like Club Origami can become that release. The friendship dynamics, the group energy, the sense of finally, we can move — it all pours out at once. So when Reina, our dancer, sent a cascade of torn paper flying across the floor, most of those children were already on their feet, already in it. It was chaotic. It was joyful. It was overwhelming — I sensed the teachers growing uncomfortable, and at one point one of them called for the children to settle in a way I’ve never witnessed during a show before.
I hold that experience with care and curiosity. It’s information. It represents voices of children. These are children who needed to move, needed to play, needed to feel the permission that paper and dance and an open stage can give. That matters. And from the second show onwards, we were in a different rhythm entirely.
The Canadian Audience
What struck me most across the weekend was how quiet Canadian audiences can be — in the best possible sense.
So much of what I’m used to in the UK involves children who vocalise, react out loud, call back to the performers. Here, there was a stillness. A quality of witnessing. Adults and children alike seemed to be really watching — absorbed in the performance rather than responding to it. It took me a show or two to read it correctly, because quietness can sometimes feel like distance. But it was attention. Deep, generous, present attention and contemplation.
Something else I noticed: male and female carers were equally present in the family audiences — a real mix of dads, mums, grandparents — and the adults seemed to be enjoying the work just as much as the children. There’s something particularly satisfying about making early years work that lands across generations like that.
A Company That Keeps Moving
This tour also marks something significant for Ichi Ni San as a company. Makiko, who has been a core dancer on Club Origami, now has caring responsibilities that make a long international tour difficult to manage. Rather than pause or scale back, we’ve found a solution that feels right: bringing in other artist collaborators to cover the touring dates, creating a more sustainable and flexible model going forward.
Reina, our dancer on this leg has come over from Australia — and it’s been wonderful. The show holds. The company keeps moving. And we get to reach new audiences without asking more of people than they’re able to give. That feels like the right way to grow.
What’s Next
Tomorrow we head to Toronto for two shows, and then on to St. Catharines for four more. Each city will bring its own audience, its own energy, its own set of surprises. I’m looking forward to all of it.
More soon.
