Professor Glick in the Infamous Blue Basement at Renzo Gracie
Upon meeting Professor Brian Glick, one doesn’t think “Brazilian Jiujitsu black belt” let alone one of John Danaher’s first batch of black belts to come out of the Blue Basement at Renzo Gracie Academy. Professor Glick’s approach to Jiujitsu parallels Danaher’s systematic methodology, yet, it’s a little more fluid and “rounded around the edges” than Danaher’s precision and systematic break downs. This all is probably in part due to Prof. Glick’s academic background prior to his embarking on his martial arts career. I had a chance to sit and talk about this and his approach to Jiujitsu and how his academic background formulated his style and delivery of the gentle art.
Guess let’s get the particulars out of the way. Name? where you’re from? I’m Brian Glick. I live in Brooklyn. I was born and raised in Washington, DC. I lived there until I moved to New York when I was 17.
How long have you been practicing/training in Jiujitsu /martial arts and what was the catalyst for your wanting to study it? I began jiu-jitsu in 2000. Prior to that, I didn’t have any martial arts experience at all. I barely exercised and was never an athlete. All my interests were in other directions. I didn’t seek jiu-jitsu out - in a way it came to me. I had the good fortune to meet someone who had been a student of the martial arts for a long time, and who had just discovered jiu-jitsu. He was a zealot looking for converts, like a lot of people who came across jiu-jitsu at that time, and he found me. He showed me a few things and then encouraged me to look for more myself. If you speak to people from this era, many of them have similar stories: you got to talking about fighting or self-defense, and then someone brought up this totally outside-the-box idea of what it could look like. Or what it *should* look like to be effective. In my experience, this buddy of mine grabbed me and started strangling me after I told him I didn’t think anything like what'd he'd described to me could work. Of course I was wrong. And in spite of not having learning to tap my way out of the submission, I lived to tell about it. It was immediate. With experiences like that, you’re faced with something incontrovertible - it’s totally clear that whatever you thought you knew was wrong. Without making too big a deal about it, for me there was a gap that opened up concerning my sense of solid footing in the world. It rattled my confidence but in a good way, like realizing the seatbelt in your car doesn't work. You can't believe you've been driving around like that. Then you realize that you can fix it. This friend of mine didn't just show me that jiu-jitsu was effective and then leave me where he found me. He told me where to go and what to do to learn it. It was like magic.
Gordon Ryan and Professor Glick in Professor Danaher’s NoGi class
What did you do prior to your training BJJ? And how has that influenced your your methodology in BJJ? Immediately before jiu-jitsu, I wasn’t doing very much of note - in my late 20s I didn't have much direction. I had been trained as a musician throughout my teenage years and into my 20s and for a while was fortunate enough to be able to play professionally and travel because of it. But that was all dying down. One of mentors during that period was Anthony Braxton, a wonderful visionary saxophonist and composer who was also a gifted, charismatic teacher. He won a MacArthur “genius” grant not long before I met him, and at 75, he’s still a titan of modern improvised music, going strong with his plans to complete a 50-opera cycle. I learned a number of important lessons from working with him, many of which I didn’t fully understand or implement until I began doing jiu-jitsu. One of them was the relationship of composition to improvisation. In his view, they are inseparable - the dividing line between them is arbitrary, just a function of how popular Western music evolved under a few select hands with a specific agenda. He expected all of us to be able to understand structure and non-structure, and to be able to think with technique in both of those spaces. So the relationship between order and disorder, open and closed structures, was a big part of learning to work with him. You can see how this fits so well with what we do on the mat. We are in essentially the same position - we have specific constraints we work in, which are definite systems following clearly defined principles. If you violate them, all your work falls apart. But at the same time, your creativity in bringing them to bear has a huge impact on your results. After a certain point, we’re all working with the same tools. Deploying them in the right way at the right moment is something that the system doesn’t totally account for, though. Your choices inside the system are an individual pursuit.
Another major lesson came from his work ethic. He worked relentlessly, He was demanding and set a high standard. In spite of an extraordinary amount of responsibilities, projects and students, being underpaid and often under-respected, he was first to arrive, last to leave and incredibly rigorous in everything he took on without a negative word about any of it. Just straight ahead like a locomotive. So I got to see someone up close who was completely dedicated to his work, irrespective of what others around him were doing or what they thought of him. And this was when he was in his 50s. The stories we heard about him when he was in his 20s and 30s were just unbelievable in terms of his sacrifices and endurance to get the job done. Super-human stuff. So when it came time for jiu-jitsu, which rewards determination and a solid work ethic, there was a lot for me to draw on right out of the gate. There were a lot of other lessons in there from him, but those are two good ones.
Professor Glick and Nicky Ryan
You and Professor Danaher have very academic approaches to training and teaching Jiujitsu, which has proven to be very effective. Why is that been so effective versus what now seems to be a more “brawn vs brains” approach that’s popular now? Mr. Danaher brought a unique mindset to jiu-jitsu that elevated it beyond a simple contest of who would overcome whom. It's not that this is not important, and he'd probably characterize it as the essential thrust of what's going on, but those of us who practice regularly know that there's something else going on also. He was the first in my experience to frame the essential goal of jiu-jitsu not as a fight that needed to be won, but as a problem (or set of problems) that needed to be solved. And that solution needed to satisfy a few requirements, like being efficient and effective and preserving you're well-being, etc. This framing has changed people’s perspective. It's given them a way to really think more deeply about how to go about finding the solution. So this process of first finding the right questions to ask in order to get a better answer was a philosophical one.
It was coupled with a scientific approach to the training, in the sense that there were potential solutions for problems that could be tested to see if they were the right ones. The training was a laboratory where he (or you, or me, or anyone) could work out if the hypotheses were correct. If they were, you’d get a theory which was at best just waiting to be disproven in the next training. If it stood up to resistance and experience, it became a more robust theory, but still just a theory. His approach was then structured around these theories which had been derived from direct experience or observation. From them came a set of systems for managing a very chaotic, complex and dangerous set of circumstances.
It may seem simple to say, but such a systematic approach is effective because it’s relates directly with how things happen. I think that people misunderstand sometimes, believing that he derives systems from abstract theories and principles. In fact, it’s the opposite - the theories come from direct experience and observation, so they are rooted in reality. Think about when you’re training and something works. It’s like a lightbulb turns on. Then when you can accurately predict what your partner is going to do, it’s like mind-reading. Finally, when you can effectively predict and then direct your partner into a place where you can do what works, it’s like magic. That was my experience of his approach as a student in the early years.
It’s also significant because it appeals to the very essence of jiu-jitsu as a tool for the underdog. Here’s a set of tools and a way of using them which, at the least, levels the playing field and at best gives a significant advantage to the practitioner. It’s like the holy grail. People who are already strong, athletic, dominant - they may like or love jiu-jitsu, but they don’t need it in the same way that someone who’s weak or small or underwhelming does. This is a point that old-school jiu-jitsu used to talk about a lot, but its dropped below the radar.
All of this been so effective because the framing, the mindset, the approach and the systems are replicable and learnable. He is a master of transferring information at both micro and macro levels. The solutions may appear complex at times, but in those cases it's because they're resolving complex situations. This sort of approach actually serves to simplify what can be a very open-ended, disordered, stressful situation. Plus the principles can be seen whether you are white blue belt or a black belt, so the techniques and tactics are available to everyone.
You like to “fly below the radar” so to say, more of a black belt’s black belt. You’re now in a very tight community of practitioners and grapplers. Is that a conscious choice or just how it’s all panned out? I have always been interested in jiu-jitsu itself and I hold it sacrosanct, probably more than I should. To me that means that as a practitioner, you have to keep your standards high enough to meet the bar set by your instructor, mentor and peers. In that way, good work has value regardless of whether or not someone else recognizes it. I think that those who are also immersed in the field, who understand the details and the subtleties, can recognize that good work when they come across it.
Many of Mr. Danaher’s highest-performing students in MMA and jiu-jitsu are also the most visible – they’re in the limelight because they’re successfully bringing forward important innovations and adaptations, sharing this sort of evolutionary thrust with the rest of the world. What I think is often lost is that for most of them, this is a consequence instead of a specific motivation.
If my motivation was specifically to be on people’s radar, I think I’d be falling into an error in syntax. The attention should be on the work first, then everything else later. If you’re doing what you’re doing in order to get something out of it - to become rich or famous or well-liked or well-known - then there are some problems. Participating like that in any endeavor is, to me, like getting involved in a racket. You’re guilty by association. You risk becoming just another cog in the machine of a mainstream culture, trying to convince someone that what you’re doing has value because you want something from them. It doesn’t mean that people shouldn’t be rewarded for their hard work and effort, their attention to their craft. I’m absolutely in favor of that. If others appreciate what you do and you can share with them what you’re up to, that’s great. In fact, it’s one of the benefits of living in the time that we’re in - there are many more resources than there used to be. But there are plenty of other, more lucrative ways of achieving recognition or notoriety than jiu-jitsu.
I’ll also say that lately, social media has elevated the risk of making the end-game of martial arts (and many other fields) appear to be recognition and reward. This work is supposed to bring you to terms with your ego, not to over-inflate it. Serious practitioners understand that the true endgame is no endgame at all - it’s a long-term practice with a purpose that provides a good filter for other parts of your life. Mastery can coincide with recognition, but you can’t mistake the one for the other. So motivation is key.
I’ve also always believed that there’s no such thing as a “good day”, in the sense that you have a peak performance that makes all the other days worthwhile. Of course you can have some days that are better than others, but the daily work is really the thing. That puts me more on the side of process than result, even though so much of our approach is geared towards arriving at a specific outcome. Consequently I don’t see good practice as being the same as moving from one peak to another but rather the accumulation of lessons and experience that come from the daily slog. It’s a much less dramatic arc, and so I think it attracts less attention when you’re looking from the outside in, which I am OK with.
Professor Glick and George Saint-Pierre
How do you see the discipline evolving both as a professor and as a practitioner?
I see my own discipline evolving in a very particular way as I move now into my 3rd decade of jiu-jitsu. The terms of engagement have changed somewhat because I’m in my 40s, working with people who are young enough to be my kids. But the challenge seems to me to be the same as it ever has – to get as deeply inside the problem as possible without becoming myopic. My teacher is a master of many things and this is certainly one of them. Because jiu-jitsu can reward detail, I think that a lot of people believe that just because a teaching is detailed that it’s beneficial, which is not the case. The real work is to understand how to balance a general theme and specific details.
As an instructor, I’m just now coming to understand the value of efficiency in communication. We make it a priority in the practice, but not always in teaching. For instance, there are times when it is essential that you’re completely understood as an instructor. For years I believed that my job was to not leave anyone behind, and I did this by being exhaustive with explanations and details. But most of the time, when a chunk of the class doesn’t get the point or understand the essence of what I’m saying, I realize now that it isn’t the problem that I think it is. Some of those folks have louder voices and like to complain more. But it doesn’t matter all that much, because the practice takes care of the rest.
If you insist on exhaustively reviewing every nuance of a certain technique and every condition in which it might arise, then not only will you waste everyone’s time but you’ll train them not to listen to you anymore. Aiming to capture everyone’s attention actually signs you up to bore and alienate the people whose attention you needed to get the most.
In some instances, redundancy is good. I understand through my own experience as a student that you need to see the same thing over and over again, in different contexts or scenarios. But over-explaining and closing off every possible angle of attack because you need things to be airtight is stifling. It may make you feel good as a teacher but it doesn’t do much for the students. They’ll get bored before they get good. In most cases, you need to share enough for people to go and do it.
Professor Glick and Danaher
How has Jiu Jitsu changed your life outside of his methodologies? I believe that the two primary functions of jiu-jitsu are to encourage the cowardly and to civilize the bully. It’s a very powerful tool for both these purposes. As you know, those of us who’ve dedicated our lives to the practice still experience life off the mat (and sometimes on it) as frustrating, irritating, unrewarding and overly-complex. There’s a reason so many people use metaphors like “life’s a battle” or “win the day” or “crush your goals”. In the face of all that, knowing that it’s possible to develop an orderly solution to an incredibly complex chain of events – to control the uncontrolled - is a powerful message.
Especially now, it’s important to know that not all disasters can be avoided, but not all disasters are fatal. Building a robust jiu-jitsu practice means that you can tolerate when calamities occur. It reminds you that your life will not fall apart in the face of distress, whether that’s losing your girlfriend or losing your job or losing your leg. In the practice, if your structure falls apart at the first sign of resistance or folds under strain, you will only be able to go so far. Eventually you’ll come up against the limits of how much pressure you can bear and still think proactively about your choices.
Many people actually thrive in disasters because they’ve taken the time to build something that can withstand some stress. They survive what others might see as failure. As a result, they’re more likely to rise to the challenge when circumstances are against them. Having a disaster-tolerant approach doesn’t mean blind optimism or ignoring the problem. You can’t get better at jiu-jitsu just by avoiding your weak spots. It’s not a brittle method. It’s more like a proper forearm frame, which has just enough flex to keep its integrity even when weight, pressure and stress are applied to it.
The benefit of this sort of tolerance is that, instead of obsessing over potential downsides and worst possible outcomes (and then becoming paralyzed by them), you can start to look at the upsides of risk. In randori, when you have a good frame in place, you monitor the pressure on you while continuing to work inside it. Suddenly there are more options. Better choices emerge. And those worst possible outcomes you were so worried about? They’re less likely to happen because you realize you can actually tolerate a little disaster.
Final thoughts and acknowledgments?
Just that I’m still a big believer in the value of long-term thinking. When you invest yourself and your time in understanding the texture of the field you’re a part of, you’re much more likely to gain the support and learn the lessons. Sometimes it can seem like investing in details and relationships is a waste of time, because there are so many urgent questions you want the answers to. On the mat it’s slipping the heel or passing the kneeline or avoiding the kimura. There’s a solution to a dire problem, or a technical tweak that makes us impatient. It could be that we need attention or approval or approbation. But if you’re only sticking around because you need something, the people around you will catch on.
From what I’ve seen, professionals and sustainers keep the long-term in mind. They don’t bite the hook - showing up, getting what they need and then moving on. That approach empowers a crisis since you have to always be moving from one urgency to the next. It leads to a patchwork structure and shoddy workmanship because you’re in a rush to get the answer. At the end is a building that looks OK on the outside but falls apart as soon as someone moves in.
If you only learn the minimum amount necessary to get over the next hurdle, you’ll always fall behind because you have a “catch up” mindset. That’s never productive. It’s better to invest in an overall blueprint that lends direction to your efforts instead of patching together a few specific techniques or a set of tactics. It takes time, but there needs to be a plumb line that runs through everything that you do, something that gives your work a structural integrity.
It may seem that we can get what we need on the run, but we can’t. It’s a waste of an opportunity for everyone. Instead, it makes sense to do what’s important instead of just what’s urgent. As a martial arts practitioner, that’s investing in the long-term by contributing rather than accumulating. These activities lead to a real participation, an actual foundation and solid roots that make you unshakeable, whether other people take notice or not.
You can follow Professor Glick on instagram at @bzglick and on his YouTube channel: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCHDPspEXGaVTwxHL11Tsygw