I pride myself in being smart – I like to know things, and if I don’t know something I figure it out. I have confidence in my intelligence and my ability to quickly learn things.
So why on earth would I take a course on how to be “a stupid”? Well for anyone who knows me, you’ve probably guessed – it’s clowning. I’ve talked about clowning in the past and for anyone who’s ever worked with me I talk about clowning and use aspects of clowning in everything I touch.
The last time I did a clowning course, it absolutely threw me for a spin – I was terrified and frustrated and kept holding myself back. But slowly, week by week, I was able to embrace failure and just get on with it. That breakthrough was transformative to me as a performer and theatre maker.
That was over three years ago. Back in December I decided that I needed to do another clowning workshop. I’ve been thinking a lot about performing lately, of how I miss it, so I was in search of something that could help me exercise that muscle.
Enter Angela de Castro, world renowned theatre clown and one of the most insightful teachers I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with. I had to beg her to let me into course, “How to be a Stupid,” which also meant I had to prove myself going once in the class. But I was strangely calm going in. I figure because the last time I did clowning I realised the whole point is to fail, I went in with the notion – “Right, I’m here to fail. Let’s have some fun.”
I must’ve really embraced the failing bit, because I failed the vast majority of the time.
Over the 10-day course, the first week focused on the elements of clowning and clown state with the second week expanding on that in order to start developing a clown persona and maintaining the state. Throughout the workshop, de Castro really gets to know her pupils, which helps in giving specific and measured feedback. And she sees everything, so don’t even try to bullshit her.
Early on she saw that I was an obsessive compulsive control freak know it all (my own words, completely.) I was trying, perhaps too hard, to let go of my need for control, my need to know. After all, wasn’t I fully prepared to embrace failure? But letting go is easier said than done – turns out my performance muscles are really out of shape. I’ve spent the past 3-4 years observing and shaping others, that I’ve forgotten how to do it myself.
Clowning costume for How To Be A Stupid
Even though I was failing at failing, I was still having an amazing time. The day before the final workshop, I had told everyone how surprised I was that I hadn’t had a breakdown because I’m prone to breakdowns. I must be becoming a more confident person! Yay! When I got home that night, I went over my performance the past nine days and some of the harsh but dead on criticism from de Castro – I lost it. I started crying, like full on ugly cry. Telling myself I was shit, and what the hell was I thinking? That I can’t even fail properly. That I suck at the one thing I’ve only ever wanted to do – perform.
Just as quickly I fell into this horrible cycle of self doubt, I snapped out of it. I realised that this is but a moment in a life’s journey. I equated this moment to when I was losing weight last year, and didn’t realise how much I had lost until I tried on old clothes that fell right off me. That’s it – I thought – I’m in the process of losing weight. Losing all the things that weigh me down – self-doubt, preconceived notions, expectations and being too hard on myself. It’s only in the future when I’ll look back on this moment and see the transformation.
And that, in essence, is the clown. They are so in the moment that they highlight aspects of our own lives. They fail, so that we can learn. They don’t know, so that we can know. They entertain, so that we can laugh. They perform, so that we can also perform, in life.
I’m constantly looking back to plan the future. I’m always planning my next move, so much so that I often forget to just enjoy the moment. The clown is always in the moment. I envy that ability so much. This makes me think of the sweet and simple clown persona I was beginning to develop in the workshop – she was so fascinated by a little green light up in the rafters. Even just taking myself back to that moment now brings me an immense peace. What a gift.
It’s a gift I want to share with others. I have made play my life’s work. And clowning has not only had transformative impact on my work, but on my life. Clowning is not just a mode of performance, it is a state of mind. Although I’m not particularly pursuing a career as a theatre clown, I am determined to continue training in clowning – not just to shape my career as a director and performer, but because I someday want to teach clowning. No matter what mode of performance you embrace, or even if you’re not a performer, we can all learn from the clown.
De Castro and my fellow playmates
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