I just got back from a little island in Maine. The island is in fact called, Little Diamond Island, so it’s clearly in touch with itself. Little Diamond Island is so small that in order to go on a run for more than a mile, you have to cross a sandbar (accessible only in low tide) that connects it to a bigger island. Aptly named Great Diamond Island, this island is obviously the more endowed of the two—a runner’s paradise. So imagine me, ready to go run my medium feet ragged on this great island. I lace up my Hokas, cross the sandbar, thrilled by the high stakes endeavor of making it back across the bar (ahem baaah) before high tide covers my path (there was little to no way I’d not make it back in time since the tide wouldn’t come in for hours, but a girl’s gotta dream). The endorphins kick in. I’m feeling a nice sweat and my favorite Bad Bunny song is on, Titi Mi Pregunto. I see a lone kid running along the same coastal path. He’s probably around 11 or 12—a little young to be the age when one starts to just “go on a run,” and yet totally alone, with a focus that matches mine. We are in this moment, sympatico. Instinctively, I put out my hand for a high five and instinctively, he high fives me back. It was a moment of pure play.
Play is a state inherent to all humans. We play from our first moment of consciousness, or if not consciousness, at least when we exit the blob stage of babyhood. Kids make games out of literally everything. The other day I saw a kid in line for ice cream at the beach making up a deliberately weird dance to the song playing on the speakers. At my friend’s baby shower, his 12 year old kid and I played the “Oh No Your Dad’s Coming Let’s Hide In This Fort and Whisper” game. When my 13 year old brother is in between basketball meets, he literally mimes jump shots around the house. He always wins.
Games are a kid’s barometer for a good day; no games = boring day, games = fun day. What the hell happens to us? Somewhere, somehow, this natural sense of play gets beaten out of most of us and we find ourselves adults with a whole lot of “work” and not much play going on. Remember in the pandemic when people were going out of their minds with boredom and we started playing board games? Maybe you are a board game person and had a healthy family life with a healthy understanding of competition. GOOD FOR YOU. C’est pas ma vie! I tried playing board games mid-pandemic, and suffice it to say they are not my thing. They feel like a stilted version, a serious, adult alternative to play. The kinda play I want on a random Wednesday is not reading an instruction manual with my partner and really seriously trying to conquer all his resources. What I really want is potato sack racing, musical chairs, or laying criss cross on my friends’ stomachs and shouting “ha!” Anyways this is not really meant to knock board games. I simply mean, we have adapted as adults to unlearn play. Adults make serious the natural silliness that we used to seek out and find, everywhere as kids.
Last week, I had the immense pleasure of going to clown camp for a week. It’s a serious theater with serious theater people who teach there, like this Spanish clown Aitor Basauri who came all the way from Europe to teach us, so it’s not formally called clown camp. Its official name is Celebration Barn Theatre, in Paris, Maine—next to Norway, Maine and Poland, Maine, since Maine clearly lacks imagination when it comes to naming anything. And I must say, there wasn’t a hint of serious in the week! Each day started with a game, sometimes two. Then there was an exercise, and another game. A lunch break, a game. A feedback session, a game. The building blocks of each day, like a good day for a kid, were made up of games. And I must say, it was amazing how INSANE that felt. I met these adult-stranger-people seconds before and then we’re all jumping rope, dressing up in silly costumes and modeling in a fashion show, putting on a lip synching competition, playing Ninja. We were relearning how to play. And we weren’t just learning to play because we were paying lots of money to be at the workshop (embarrassing), but we were learning to find the fun in the play. Aitor kept stressing the importance of finding pleasure in the game, of having fun when you play. “It’s very important,” he would say, as he says with most things, which are very important.
It feels almost too obvious to spell out why clowns play and need to love doing so, but dear readers, I shall persevere. You could say it’s the MO of a clown to play – to find the game in everything. What’s the game of entering the stage? What’s the game of standing next to your partner? In the Charlie Chaplin film Modern Times, there’s a scene where he is in prison, sitting down to eat next to a big a hulk of a man. There is no bit yet, just two people sitting side by side with a piece of bread between them. They find a game in this situation - Chaplin tries nonchalantly to eat some of the bread, the Big Guy grabs it away, breaks off a bit and puts it down. Chaplin tries again, the Big Guy grabs it back, and mouths, “its mine.” Chaplin taps Big Guy’s far shoulder with the tip of a spoon, Big Guy, distracted looks away from Chaplin who goes for the bread again. Big Guy yanks it away. Finally Chaplin goes for the bread a last time, and gets away with it. The actual scene and gag takes place later, when Chaplin starts putting cocaine on his food thinking it’s salt. But this moment of the game is pure clown - it’s stupid, it’s funny and it happens with the smallest impetus. Another brilliant game is from one of my favorite bits of all time in Ali G show, when Sasha Baron Cohen (a trained clown who studied with renowned Philippe Gaulier) interviews a group of scientists about technology. Trying to illustrate the limitations of computers’ ability to calculate, Cohen as Ali G, makes a game out of creating the most complicated number he can think of. He doesn’t succeed.
Most of what we did at clown camp was obviously not Charlie Chaplin or Ali G level humor. A keen reader may be musing, “if a clown show is just a bunch of adults running around and jumping rope that sounds like the dumbest show in the world.” And you would be absolutely right. Clown is so dumb! I am very much still working through what makes anything I do onstage compelling enough to make people want to buy tickets, or at the very least keep people watching throughout the whole bit. But the thing about clowns that makes them different from other comedic performers, is they try really really hard. They want so bad to be good. As Aitor would say, “a clown does everything to the best of their ability.” (I promise I’ll stop quoting Aitor soon, but he’s just so quotable!) I’ll also say that watching someone experience pure, unadulterated joy, even if they look foolish while doing so, is profound. Isn’t art in search of the profound? During camp, a clown camper named Aaron did a very stupid and hilarious performance where he presented pictures of fish with very big eyes and pointed at his own. He started laughing so hard during the piece - perhaps because he recognized the stupidity of the whole thing, or perhaps because we were all bowled over laughing. Regardless of why, what happened during the bit was Aaron started crying and crying and crying, so we started crying and roaring with laughter and crying. It was beautiful and dumb and moving and it was art.
I’ll leave you with this last thought, which is, ultimately a clown is playful because it’s their job to have fun. How incredible is that? A clown’s job is not, ironically, to be funny. Aitor says, the difference between a clown and a comedian is a comedian tries to be funny while a clown tries to have fun. Be funny? Tooooo much pressure. I will disappoint! But have fun? Oh boy I can do that.
Clown About Town
Your guide to clown events. To submit an event, please email me by Thursday for publication in Friday’s newsletter.
7/10 7:30 pm, Chad Performs Silent Improv with Eric Davis then Chad Live Directs (Clubhouse)
7/14 5-7 pm, Playspace (Elysian)
7/14 7:30-9 pm, Goopy with Anna Seregina and Kyle Mizono (Elysian)
7/15 7-9 pm, Clown Couch (The Activist Kitchen)
7/16 7 pm, Highland Park Clowns’ Show (Live Arts)
7/17 7 pm, Month Long Hamfest w/ Nonsemble (Elysian)
7/22 7:30 pm, Night Night w/ Annie Paradis (Hollywood Improv)
7/22 10-11:30 pm, Gutterplum (Elysian)
7/23 11-11 pm, Edinburgh Preview Day (Elysian)
UPCOMING WORKSHOPS
Clown Gym’s Clown Cohort - a yearlong mentorship for aspiring clown teachers.
Clowning with Dr. Browning, July 18-22 (Atwater). Apply here.
Dody Disanto Clown 2 Workshop, Center for Movement Theater September 19 - December 5 (Monday nights 7-10 pm) and October 22 & 23 (Sat 10-5 pm & Sun 11-6 pm).
ICN is written by me Isabella Kulkarni, and edited by Emma Colon.
Until next time!