By Mike Grundmann contributor
Ryan “Twig” Hughes plays with fire. For his nighttime audience, it’s a jaw-dropping experience.
Twirling a 2-foot tether in each hand, he paints flaming patterns in the air, for a constantly shifting geometry. He’ll do the same with LED lights.
It’s one of the “flow arts” gaining popularity nationwide. This one is called poi spinning, a Polynesian term originating with the Maoris in New Zealand.
Hughes, 25, is a cook and “back of the house” employee at the Little Grill in Harrisonburg. His Instagram account, twigexists, has 1,400 followers.
He discovered his passion in 2019.
“I watched somebody perform. It destroyed my brain. I just could not believe it. I want to make people feel that way. I chase that feeling.”
Concerts, festivals, camp-outs and parties are typical venues. It’s not big in Harrisonburg yet, so he often travels to Richmond and other locales.
He’s made a few dollars at some events but doesn’t do it for the money, nor competitively.
“I just don’t want there to be a winner or a loser.”
In geometric terms, the spun patterns are roulettes, including epitrochoids and hypotrochoids. He’s mastered hundreds of moves and names them things like flower, toss, tangle and butterfly.
Live music obviously provides flow, but electronic music fires him up most.
“That’s the big whammy. It’s half the reason I got into it.”
State of mind can be elusive.
“Sometimes I hit that flow state. Sometimes my body takes over.”
He treasures the effect on his audience.
“There’s a girl that I spun poi at her camp and she was, like, crying, saying I was telling a story. She felt like she really understood it, maybe more than I did. I’ve had people lose their minds, crazy. Some people are under the influence. Fire is like a shortcut. You light a fire at a party, everyone’s gonna watch.”
When he began spinning, he was unemployed.
“I would do it 12, 14 hours a day. Now I work full time [but still] do it pretty much every day, indoors and outdoors.”
The “head” at the end of the tether is usually Kevlar soaked with white gas, or camping gas, which, while flammable, is low-heat. His favored “entry move” is to smear some gas on his hand, light it and use it to ignite the other Kevlar head.
It’s still a little risky. He’s hit or burned himself “plenty of times. I’ve hit myself in the head. My hair caught on fire. People say, ‘Your hat, your hat, your hat!’ “
Elias Wickline, 23, a friend who has spun poi, particularly admires Twig’s ability to suddenly spin in reverse.
“It creates a cool rhythm. He can do it really fast.”
Twig is grateful for finding a meaningful art to pursue.
“It really opened me up as a person. It showed me, like, unconditional happiness. That’s my message with it. Screw everything else. Have fun. Love what you do.”
Mike Grundmann is a retired JMU journalism professor who previously worked as a reporter and editor for eight California newspapers, including the Los Angeles Times. He has produced 10 award-winning documentaries.
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