Press coverage
The Guardian, 15 April 1997
Independent on Sunday, 16 March 1997:
"By the time Tight Roaring Circle opens, the Roundhouse will be transformed. There will be heat. There will be light. There will be a variety of "internal structures" in addition to the Roundhouse's own; most notably its circle of 24 iron pillars topped with decorative arches and spandrels and 24 iron ribs which curve majestically up to a vast domed roof. Who but the early Victorians would have expended such care over a garage for 23 steam engines? Too bad the huge central turntable - a device for revolving engines into their berths - had its innards removed long ago. Forsythe the boy genius would have loved to play with that." (Jenny Gilbert - read full article)
Time Out, 26 March - 2 April 1997:
"Invisible choreography in a distant room? Not exactly. Tight Roaring Circle is something different. A performance? Not really, the only dancers involved are the audience. Whatever it may turn out to be, it is more than an installation that you look at for a couple of minutes before walking away." (Allen Robertson)
The Observer, 23 March 1997:
"What makes it striking, and therefore provocatively arty, is its location, squeezed into the centre of the Roundhouse, the disused locomotive shed in London's Chalk Farm. A legendary alternative arts venue with a byzantine history of economic mismanagement, the Roundhouse once again has new owners with bold new plans."
The Independent, 27 March 1997:
"As you wander inside, this initial impression is confirmed. You are immediately engulfed by the booming, dissonant sounds of futuristic horns that blare, blast and soothe in a series of peaks and troughs. Scary. And then, like Richard Dreyfuss in Close Encounters looking over the top of the mountain, you finally see it in its vast, wondrous, grandeur - a huge, white bouncy castle. This is the Tight Roaring Circle." (John O'Reilly - read full article)
The Telegraph, 29 March 1997:
"Walk into this windowless dark place, and there, like a marshmallow ghost, is a dazzling white plastic castle bulging and palpitating with air within the ornate Victorian struts. Jump in and jump about. That's it.
Art? The A-word was not mentioned, says Forsythe, when Michael Morris and James Lingwood, co-directors of Artangel, approached him two years ago. He prefers the J-word. "Joy." No one, he says happily, has any problem knowing how to react to this work (unlike, I may say, his more mainstream creations) - they get in and start bouncing." (Ismene Brown - read full article)
The Times, 31 March 1997:
"The installation is called Tight Roaring Circle, a title too rigid and aggressive for the extraordinary state of relaxation it engenders. But the choice of those three words is still revealing. It shows how much control lies beneath the apparently haphazard nature of the event, an experience that left me feeling dazed, astonished and euphoric." (Richard Cork)
The Guardian, 29 March 1997:
"Boingy, boingy, boing, boing. A bouncy castle. A great big white bouncy castle. That's it. Check your shoes, check your coat and do the Basil Fawlty moonwalk. Tight Roaring Circle is one of the dumbest works I've encountered in a long while." (Adrian Searle)
The Guardian, 15 April 1997:
"I have always admired Adrian Searle's writing for the wit and energy with which he engages with his subject. But with his review of Tight Roaring Circle, aka the bouncy castle (arts pages, March 29), he showed he was not prepared to bounce off anything and treated us to an "I don't want to play your silly game" tantrum.
Thank heaven for those who want to cross boundaries, invite the unexpected and allow people to do things they wouId not otherwise do. There is a unique excitement that surrounds the announcement of a new Artangel project, and Tight Roaring Circle at the Roundhouse in north London is no exception - part of the excitement is that you do not know what will be required of you.
"[...] I have never seen the pin-stripe so animated, the brassiere so sporty. Age and profession have no meaning here. Beneath the generous gesture and its candid humour is a profound realisation..." (Antony Gormley)