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 8#
This week has gone fast, I knew it would, and I leave tomorrow. Wednesday, disappeared quickly, as I know will my presence in Etampes. I am greeted again this morning at Café Du Depart with a kiss on each cheek. Manuel is busy serving regulars, most are drinking wine by 10am. I think I know why I like him so much because we can’t communicate with language, we play. He plays when he knows I am watching. As he walks by, he throws some rubbish on my table and then continues on unnecessarily wiping down an empty peanut dispenser, whistling coyly. His humour is childlike and well crafted. I awkwardly wonder if I should somehow try mention I am leaving tomorrow.
Movement
We skip again today with Tom Tom, I change to the harder side (as he has the lines both form parallel in the room, the rope goes in two different directions – clockwise and anticlockwise). I make a mistake, as I hesitate so as not to collide with the person in front, and I hit the rope. He comments “Ah the first mistake from you.”. I smile and dismiss it, none of this matters. We do our usual warmup on the ground, then we move on to headstands, and chair handstands… how did we end up here? I try to help a few others with their shape, that want help, but I basically check out.
The games we play today are great, I take note;
– Animal tag. The taggers must tag people and assign them a secret animal, to which the player must impersonate. The player can be freed by others guessing which animal they are. The more obscure the animal the better, and the more stupid and desperate the players get. It’s a funny and accessible game, I think I will add the rule that players can only guess once per person then they have to move on.
– We walk closely in pairs and tesselate each other’s footsteps. On the tenth step, both players do a ball change step. If a mistake is made, you collide. I love this.
– We are walking around the room, we are told without sound to make a square, a circle, and a triangle (using everyone). There is no time limit. It is surprisingly difficult and funny and takes longer than expected. A good ensemble game, I like this too.
We do a clown exercise with Tom Tom, an orchestra. I like this as an alternative to the conductor exercise. I watch the first group, it looks fun, I get up for the second round. Tom Tom asks us to go and collect our instruments before we begin, as he finds the music. We all stand and look at each other with playful confusion, thinking where are our invisible instruments? We eventually find them as a group behind the wings, and personally decide what instruments we are picking up. I pick up a snare and a cymbal, not realising of course, that we are a symphony orchestra… I appreciate my own stupidity. As the music starts each of the clowns is proud when they hear their instrument, like they got it correct, and begin to play. A piccolo solo plays in the music, and the focus is thrown to the clown playing their invisible piccolo so intently. The music guides us through levels of intensity, focus, pride, and honest confusing play. I think I have enjoyed this group clown exercise the most so far, its great to watch and fun to play.
We do a clown carousel, but it moves relatively slowly. The clown must come on and make us laugh if he fails, the clown must leave the stage. Some clowns have a more text-driven/standup style, Tom Tom comments this is too clever for the clown. I try not to pre-empt, I try not to do tricks, and take the offer of an empty stage whenever required. I wait for an offer from the clown gods, I play small, which is never the best idea in a clown carousel, but playing big is always hard. I accidentally kick the pile of sticks and make a noise as I come onstage, I playfully repeat a few times, it doesn’t work, I leave. I come on big with no material, I try to play with the audience by waving, what a shit idea. But I don’t want to hide behind tricks or gags, failing is ok, I get nothing. I leave. I try going on with two other female clowns, one of them sings. Why do clowns always sing? I awkwardly try to give her focus, I am thinking of complicitae, but it squashes my presence, we are shit. We leave the stage, and the class is over.
Gaulier
At lunch we put our costumes on, some are still making adjustments, but it becomes clear than in a couple of days none of this will matter. I look at myself, I feel a great desire now to complete this costume, with white under my eyes, and obscurely high shoulders so I have no neck and a short torso. I see myself possibly as a hobo clown in this costume… wow, I’ve never wanted to be a hobo clown before. Where did this desire even come from.
I am first up for the first exercise, in a line-up of eight other clowns. We are told to dance to Rock & Roll music, but the clown knows nothing about Rock & Roll, of course. If you show that you know anything about Rock & Roll you will get immediate double triple zehro. We dance altogether, then one at a time. I try not to try, I do whatever obscure movement comes to mind, searching for the right movement by listening to the audience. I think I shimmy my shoulders, then my ass, I am told to direct it to my sexual lover in the audience. It turns into a body roll, I think it evolves unintentionally to a thrust-like movement, “Sank-you, too mush simbohlic” (symbolic). Goddamn it, I know exactly what he means, I hate it when clowns do that – pointing, I call it.
I watch as another group goes up, and try to see what I think is working. I immediately like what Ketch is doing, its stupid, childlike and nonsensical. Philippe points him out from the beginning and says he what he is doing specifically is not funny, Ketch nods and changes his movement. I wonder why Philippe does this, as it was funny. Its as if he was trying to push him, to fail. Because failing will make him funnier? I don’t know, but I notice.
Some notebook observations;
– The clown must stay far back from the audience. It occurs to me today that this is so they must show their connection with the whole audience (not just one person), and it also makes it more difficult to connect. So this, in theory, would make us better at connecting. Also, most stages for the clown are really far from the audience.
– Philippe comments about the different clown bodies onstage. He points out what a couple of people’s characteristics are, but doesn’t dwell too much. Interesting to see him hold back, to not play with people’s personal insecurities about their bodies. I take his point that if we expose our vulnerabilities (physical as well as our inner stupidity) it makes the audience relate to us as humans. Our bodies and looks are irreplicable.
– I get in trouble for not adding to my costume today, Philippe says I am looking less like a grumpy cleaner from Melbourne airport. I think about my raincoat, my makeup, my physicality, and my mop. I really like that mop.
– Francisco asks a good question before the end of class, ‘Can the clown succeed, or be good at X for example playing piano?’. Philippe answers that the clown can succeed by miracle, he cannot succeed because he knows. He also mentions something about how it is a miracle that the clown has ended up onstage.
At the end of class Philippe instructs an exercise and changes his mind on the instructions between the clowns. He contradicts himself, purposefully reprimanding each clown for doing it wrong. There is a lot of confusion, and I don’t follow from the audience.
Philippe tells us that tomorrow we will swap costumes with another clown, one that we think is funny, that we would like to play. At lunch, Francisco approaches me and asks to swap costumes, perfect. He is dressed as an angel, I study his physicality, language (Spanish), and habits for the rest of class. I look forward to playing him, I like how protective he is about his wings, it’s funny. After class, he says “I want to play you” to which I reply “I want to play you too Francisco”.
The day finishes and I rehearse my duo act with Kirsten, we see eye to eye on the purpose of the exercise, which is a relief. She agrees the point is not to get it right, but to employ the techniques we have been learning – focus, complicitae, pride, contrast. I enjoy the process, and we will see how we go tomorrow performing for both classes.
Sleepless
I can’t sleep, so I get up for a snack, and end up talking with my housemate Frosina for about an hour and a half. I forget that this is basically her first experience of clown. She is an actor, and we discuss our experiences of the course. It is clear to me that in the first few days of arriving, and as detailed in my blogs, I was concerned. In a way, I am afraid of going back and reading them. Before leaving for France I told friends back home that I didn’t care if I was destroyed onstage, in a way I wanted to be, I just hoped it wouldn’t make me quit. I didn’t actually believe this place could destroy my love of clown, what could this old man possibly do? All I knew was that I had heard so many mixed reviews of this mysterious school and that it was like some kind of clown pilgrimage, I had to go and get a taste for myself. By no means do I understand what the hell just went on here over the past two weeks, nor do I understand what exactly I’ve learnt from it (yet). I was worried after the first few days, that my experience here was going to get worse, and harder, and that it would break me. I was worried everyone that warned me against going here was right, and I wasn’t prepared.
Sooner than I knew, it was my morning reflections here at Café Du Depart, the masses of support from friends and clowns I admire around the world, and my fellow classmates that I slowly let in, that picked me up. I realised Philippe is a generous, humble man and a master of clown. Through his generous insults and incessant ramblings, he breaks down the structures we hide behind, as humans and clowns, to hold ourselves up. He makes beautiful clowns.
I didn’t think I would want to come back. My plan has backfired. There is so much more for me to learn here.
Ciara Thorburn
*You can read 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
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