Recently Ciara Thorburn [circus artist, clown pirate (CC Member) and facilitator & instigator of such excellent things as the Spin Circus Festival & Circus Garage Sale Facebook group] did a course at the famous (or infamous) Ecole Philippe Gaulier (The Gaulier Clown School). As Ciara was doing it she posted a daily diary on Facebook which was such a good read I asked if we could post it here on Carnival Cinema so it could be saved and shared.
Thank you Ciara, for generously sharing your experience!
I hope you all enjoy,
Cheers Hamish
Day 5#
Today Manuel and I practice our colours, as I order my white coffee. The clowns now refer to this place affectionately as Café Du. It’s Sunday and nothing is open in Etampes, I people-watch as they arrive in waves returning from Paris. Its late morning, and I recognise some clowns that didn’t make it home last night. Everyone smokes here, and I notice one by one the others take up smoking. It’s so strange to me, I question their new hobby, their reply, “We’re in France”.
Movement
· We walk in pairs, the person in front closes their eyes, the person behind gives simple directions – stop/go/left/right. The person behind the gives their verbal instructions from three steps behind, then from the wall. We swap over, and I’m glad I’m paired with the only other Aussie girl in the class, Lauren, her accent is easy to identify.
· In nose we scale from laughing to crying, individually and then as a group. The exercise somewhat reminds me of laughter yoga, forcing yourself to laugh, and the medium between actual laughter and fake laughter, until laughter becomes meaningless. I always find these exercises interesting, as I corpse so much in clown workshops (which still, is not a problem for me in Etampes).
I don’t want to do the exercise, as after letting others go first, it has been over thirty minutes of this exercise and the class is getting bored. I get up knowing how hard it will be, which ironically I realise makes it more interesting for me. I start small and laugh poorly, then I make a noise to make myself laugh, I laugh for real, no one else does. I listen, I check in with the audience, I look stupid, I connect, I don’t try too hard, I don’t look away. I start to scale to sad, by shaking my head ‘no’, Tom Tom thinks I am actually saying no to the exercise… that I am actually upset. Either way it’s still not funny.
I think this is a problem here, how we always have our noses on onstage, which makes it so difficult to decipher between when we are ‘in clown’ and ‘not in clown’. It adds to the confusion of whether Philippe is criticising us as performers or criticising our clowns. I talk with some others about this, they, of course, say that it shouldn’t matter, that we should be being ourselves and be honest onstage. Others rip their noses off facing the audience, I always turn. I do this as a sign of respect, and to follow the rules of clown. And yes, there are rules. That’s why we are here, to learn the rules, to learn how. Some clowns put their noses on while we have drinks at the bar, I find this odd.
· Clown carousel – we come on one at a time and try to scare the audience. I go early, I try to play, should I show pride or failure here? I’m not funny. Not many are, but sometimes the audience is generous in Tom Tom’s classes.
Gaulier
Gaulier starts the class to give time to the people who have questions, as some people ask him after class when the teaching has finished (which is not the time for questions). The clown from Venezuela asks what is the meaning, or the importance, of the clown to be ‘subtle’, a follow up question from yesterdays class. He doesn’t understand the question, she dismisses it, but he won’t give in. He asks someone to explain what her question is to him because he wants to answer it. He really cares that we understand.
He looks for me in the audience and asks for me and Fransico (Columbia) to join the others and run the circus ring entrance onstage. I run as requested, mostly in neutral clown, not trying anything funny, looking only a little at the audience as I see them go by. Trying to be subtle, or myself, I guess. Philippe asks the audience which ones you would shoot with a gun, I get pointed out second by a classmate. He says I killed the world around me by not being subtle. It doesn’t affect me much, I was not invested in this exercise.
Presentations
Today most clowns are in quite a fluster about presenting our “slapstick” routines. I meet up with Josie and Halima before class, we clarify some last-minute walk throughs but I try to not dwell and keep it simple. I figure we will get gonged quickly, anyway. The first group is Chase’s, they use a lot of text to explain the scene, he is in actor mode, they get gonged before they even set up their first gag. I think to myself that some clowns actually believed we might get to perform our whole acts uninterrupted.
“AH. HA. HA. ZO FUCKHING FUNNHI. Wei do not zee ze human person, we zee a batd idea. TRIPLE ZEHRO.”
It’s hard to tell how affected Chase is. Philippe comments that we don’t see that he is intelligent or has a plan and that the clown must make us laugh every seven seconds. He asks the audience “Whare iz ze machine laughing. Ze person oo laffs as a machine?”, “…Hello.” I respond and knowingly raise my hand. “Machine iz not larfing.”
My group goes backstage, I do the clown entrance as instructed, running in the circus ring. I try to find the balance between character walk and being subtle, but I still want to contrast with the others as I am the Auguste clown. I leave the stage to wait for my part in the act, I am the third clown to enter. As I wait, I indulge in a small prelude from the wing, Philippe gongs the act before I get a chance to go onstage.
“ALL OF OU TRIHPLE ZEHRO. Including ou.”
Some notebook thoughts;
– The audience will never love you if they don’t laugh when you enter.
– Everyone uses text, I prefer noises or gibberish.
– The audience isn’t stupid, they know what is about to happen.
– Try to surprise us, play, or create the in-joke. Rehearsed improvisation is so hard.
As I leave for the break, Philippe mumbles “Ciahra.” Surprised, but not intimidated, I return. “Whi iz oor name Ciahra. Are oo Italian? No?” “Ah no, I’m Australian. All Australian, my parents just liked the name.” “No eritage?” “…Ah, way way back Scotland, but that’s with immigration. My country is not very old.” “Ohk.” No one else notices our short interaction.
That was odd. Why would he bother asking me that, in the ten minutes break he has, where earlier in the class he made it clear that we were not to ask questions or waste his time outside of class? Regardless, it makes me smile. A few girls at lunch express to me that they feel like they never get feedback, that they’re going unnoticed. I tell them to get up for more exercises, and to take more risks, to fail (or win) hard.
Class recommences with the first group again, Philippe instructs Chase to do the lap of the circus ring. As Chase runs Philippe aggressively mumbles “FASTER. LONGER. JUMP.” Chase must jump every time he hits the drum. The class laughs, it is very funny, he looks ridiculous with his long limbs. Philippe asks “Whi ou not do zis in ze beginning?”, “Because I thought it would be playing too much” replies Chase. “Wehn you show your pleazure, ou do noht plai too much.” Chase replies thankyou, with a smile, and takes a seat. It warms my heart. Philippe is coaching him, and he cares (Phillipe). He gets up regularly for exercises and gets away with it. It gives me confidence that I can get away with it too, I want to get as much out of this place as I can. After class, I head to the bar and find myself walking with Chase. I tell him that if I can’t learn from myself onstage, at least I get to learn from watching the way Philippe works with him.
My character
Philippe goes through the students one by one and coaches them on their physicality. Luckily I am feeling confident with my stickiness get up early, he has more time for the people who get up early. If you get up late, he seems to churn through the exercise as the class is almost ending. As we go backstage I hear him asking the audience if they care about seeing my costume on Monday. One of the other clowns backstage is worried about how this makes me feel (though I am actually not really bothered by the comment, more confused as to the reason) and she attempts to reassure me “He is just trying to rile you up. Its ok. He’s just trying to rile you up.” It really doesn’t affect me in the slightest.
I run, he tells me to run like an Olympian. I find my physicality obeying his instructions on how to be funny. I’m not sure if it is funny, or my attempts to decipher what he wants from me is funny. My run is strong, low, tense, heavy, stiff, my face grumpy like a double-chinned pillow and my jump, staccato. The music stops and I stop in place onstage, I don’t drop my physicality. He asks me “…oo are brohken?” I don’t understand, he repeats “You are broken?” implying that I have not moved. I think about the rats that used to live in my apartment in Queensland, and how the poison would slowly make the rat freeze mid-run along our kitchen floor. I feel like a frozen rat. I take a deep breath in and relax, dropping character onstage. He tells me to return to my seat, for the first time I take my nose off without turning from the audience.
The class atmosphere becomes excited and positive, as Philippe is teaching us how to be funny. Clowns get laughs, everyone is feeling good. It’s a good end to the week. I see he is trying to make us look ridiculous, to look stupid, and it’s working. But is he just giving us time, and the audience permission, to laugh? If we made these walks ourselves, would it be too much? I think to myself we must only sometimes be subtle, but when.
Paris
Saturday I go to write my blog, but run into the other clowns at Café Du headed to Paris to go buy their costumes. Until this point I am not interested in putting much effort into my costume, as I know what Philippe will say anyway. I also feel like the worse it is the better it is. Regardless, I feel like it would be a good thing for me to socialise, so I go. Plus, there is some good coffee in Paris. We head to the thrift store district in Paris, and I find a perfect janitor onesie almost immediately. I am pretty pleased with my find, and it seems like everyone else is putting in quite a bit of effort, so at least this way ill fit in. We visit the most expensive part of Paris, Ile de la Cite along the river Seine, I get some pretty good ice-cream and an average bagel, and then wander off by myself. These days big group excursions aren’t really my thing. I find a park, where an Aussie girl and her French boyfriend arrive next to me. It becomes difficult to not be drawn into their world, as he feeds her grapes while she lays on the grass. This actually happened. I discreetly take a selfie to post to Instagram. I try to nap, but their conversation prods my curiosity as she mentions an Australian burlesque performer who smokes a cigarette from her vagina… I wonder who it could be, I think it could only be Grumble, but I’m unsure. Either way, I think, awesome.
I meet up with the others with the aim to go to the Pompidou, I’m excited when I notice some performers and a Rou Cyr on the pitch. I watch the show, it is simple but effective. No text, no build, no hat line. They kill it, and after fifteen minutes, they go again with their ten-minute show. Nice, I begin to see how it works. The police walk by, and I notice they pass without giving the Columbians any trouble. I wonder if they have a permit, or if they are just regulars, and if I could get away with it. I can see potential in Paris… We go to Common Ground, a large beer garden, and meet up again with the big group. Its nice to talk with the others from class A, we share experiences of the week and opinions of the course. A few of them whom I have hesitantly added on facebook, comment about my blog.
Halfway thoughts
It is interesting to think about how much my understanding of Philippe’s teaching has changed in the last three days. Its only been five days… what? It’s as if Philippe is desensitising us to his insults, and making us realise the importance of the truth. The classes are also quite entertaining themselves. Our morning classes with Tom Tom are great, but I could go to a clowning class like that anywhere in the world. I didn’t come here for a generic clowning class. Most of me can’t believe I’m here, part of me is beginning to realise an engulfing insatiable feeling that ten days is not enough time here.
Ciara Thorburn
*You can read all the other days here:
Ciara Thorburn
Circus Artist, Variety Performer, Children’s Entertainer, Clown, MC, Cabaret Luminary and human being.
Ciara is a passionate, progressive and creative circus artist based in Melbourne, Australia. An avid art critic in her past life, Ciara has combined her passion for conceptual art with entertainment in an inimitable fusion of variety skill with clowning. Ciara defies expectations, using everyday objects in extraordinary ways, and has a knack for turning the mundane into the astonishing with her unique character work.
Ciara Links
We acknowledge the Arakwal people of the Bundjalung Nation, traditional custodians of the land on which this Magazine originates and pay our respects to their elders past, present and future.
The way we do things around here is that regardless of Age, Gender, Sexuality, Ethnicity our philosophy and our logo stands for inclusion, safety, connection and family.
*If you’ve enjoyed this post (and this magazine) and you believe this project is adding value to our awesome subculture and community please consider supporting it by becoming a Carnival Cinema Member for the price of a beer or cup of coffee each month.
