by Jennifer McNally    .    photo by Matt Rose

Ingrid Johnson doesn’t remember who tossed the first egg—it could have been her brother, herself or their friend from down the road. No matter who threw what, she distinctly remembers that her juggling career began in the kitchen at age 15. First eggs, then fruit, then something that looked like an elegant food fight, as the three figured out the patterns and rhythms involved in juggling a variety of breakfast foods.

It was wild times growing up in the Johnson clan in small-town Maryville, Tennessee. “We’d throw rocks and chickens around for fun,” she jokes. She was one of five siblings, the children of a country preacher who loved entertaining his congregation as much he loved delivering the sermon. Johnson says her father, who had a streak of P.T. Barnum in him, always liked to have his children performing around him. “‘And now, to add to the spirit, my daughter will juggle for you,’” she says, mimicking her father. “We really got into it. One thing led to another, and one day, the whole world of circus life opened.”

Now at 28, Johnson keeps the good times rolling. She is cofounder of two Asheville performance groups. First, a four-person juggling act called Forty Fingers and A Missing Tooth. Then there’s The Runaway Circus and The Loose Cabooses, a community-based, family-friendly “slapstick-meets-magical-acrobats-meets-musical-unicycler” kind of show that performs one big Asheville show every year in March and splits off into smaller troupes to tour throughout the year.

When it comes to juggling, cheese is the name of Ingrid’s game—as in schmaltzy, cornball antics. Forty Fingers grooves to the best (or worst, depending on your musical tastes) 1980s pop tunes, busting some fairly impressive moves. The crew, which includes Britt Tyler, Keith Campbell and Walter Beals, can juggle clubs and beach balls, swords and fire, standing on each others’ shoulders for a variety of crowd-pleasing tricks. “We’re talking classics like Europe’s ‘Final Countdown’ or ‘Come on Feel the Noize’ by Quiet Riot. If it pulls at your heartstrings, if it makes you want to put on leather, then we want to juggle to it,” she says. When they’re not touring, Forty Fingers performs in the Asheville area once or twice a month.

Her words of advice for the aspiring juggler? Just give it a shot. If you have even an ounce of dexterity, plus a good bit of time and interest, you can probably learn to juggle. (The website of the International Jugglers’ Association, www.juggle.org, includes links to excellent basic instructional videos.) Johnson is a self-taught juggler, though she did go to “circus school” in San Francisco for three months to learn tightrope walking, trapeze and other circus skills. She’s traveled far and wide with her acts, working at circus camps for kids in both Kosovo and Israel.

When she’s not juggling, she installs solar hot water systems and other alternative-energy systems in far-flung locales like Guatemala. Once her travel schedule slows down in the fall, the Asheville resident says she may look into teaching positions, where her juggling skills are certain to come in handy.
In the meantime, she’s always looking for odd new items to toss in the air. At home with her family, where she practices with her brother and brother-in-law, she’s known to pick up and juggle whatever’s in the yard—shoes, rocks, even hammers. “I’ve tried for years to teach my older sister to juggle, and it’s never really happened,” she laughs. “That’s okay. We’ve all got our talents.”   

For more on Forty Fingers and A Missing Tooth or The Runaway Circus, visit ashevillejugglers.org or runawaycircus.com.