2 weeks Ago
We all have an inner clown, a wild self whose yearning for delight is greater than the fear of failure. A little one who wants to play during nap time, convenience to others be damned. Or at least that's the idea.
Clowning, an ancient art form that includes but is not limited to the red wigs and big shoes of the circus, is difficult to define. Filed under "physical comedy," a clown communicates primarily through their body rather than words. Yulissa wears Balenciaga jacket and skirt, talent's own shoes.
All I'm sure of is that without an audience — to play with, to laugh or not laugh, and hopefully cry and transform — there is no clown. I'll admit: When I started, I wanted the benefits of clowning, namely feeling comfortable and even coming to enjoy reading my work in public, without any of the scary bits (and clowns in America have quite a scary reputation). I had asked my first clown teacher for private (read: audience-free) lessons.
She chuckled over the phone: "It doesn't work that way." Thus began my fool's journey, if you will, from scared and lost to scared and lost with a dash more openness to being vulnerable. Advertisement I was glad I was wearing sneakers because I ended up running from the subway station to the midtown Manhattan building.
I arrived at Room 315 on time and out of breath. It was a Saturday, and I was there for a two-day workshop, from noon to 5 p.m.
, with an hour break for lunch, with Christopher Bayes. His credentials, in a field where it feels funny to have them, include studying under clown masters Philippe Gaulier and Jacques Lecoq and working as the head of physical acting at Yale's David Geffen School of Drama. While this all sounds technique-heavy, Bayes is known for valuing a heart-forward approach over an intellectual one.
This was an honor for which I somehow justified paying $300. We began with introductions — names, pronouns, why we were there. "I'm a writer," I said, picking one job, out of the three I had, most.
.. Priscilla Posada.
