9:15 -- The Clown's Silhouette
14:00 -- Preparation for Clown Invasion
18:00 -- Clown Invasion of the Neveh Yosef Community Center
So, I wrote a lot about this day after it happened, but it is all a bit scrambled and unclear, so I'd rather start by writing about it now, in real time, a couple weeks after the actual events.
In the morning we had a workshop all about costume, the clown silhouette and the relationship between character and clothing. I have always always always been obsessed with costume, with clothing in general, especially one of a kind, handmade, unique pieces. (Side note: I think that is actually a big reason why I have to go back to Portland... I miss Red Light and Scrap too much, haha). I've dreamt of the day when I finally have enough space to really tackle my sewing with a vengeance, and perhaps get brave enough to try and make clothing. But I digress.
The workshop was really excellent, and the first time we all got into costume as a group. The workshop leader, a street clown for over 20 years and one of the first Dream Doctors was really a clown to aspire to be... he'd been doing it so long the lines between him and his clown were completely blurred. But you could see the love he had for his work, and his costume was as big a part of it as anything. He encouraged us to make our own costumes, as well as have a story for every single piece. And also, don't be afraid to try new costumes, build different outfits, but at the same time try and keep some base element always with you, so from anywhere, your silhouette is still recognizable.
I love costumes. Love love love them. I loved seeing everyone in costume for the first time, because especially with those who have been working a long time (and have a very developed silhouette), their costume can instantly tell you a whole lot about their personality. It's another kind of vulnerability I think, because one of the reasons a clown dresses the way it does is to stand out, to be noticed, and in many ways appear ridiculous and be ridiculed.
~~~
SO. That leaves me to the second part of this post, The Clown Invasion.
That evening, after a session of brainstorming, we all hopped on a bus and were taken to a theatre festival in a community center in eastern Haifa. Our job was simple. We were to disembark, and mingle among the people, explore the building, etc etc, and just do what we do: clown around! The only thing we weren't allowed to do was enter any of the performances that were going on, since we would inevitably draw attention and ruin the work various theatre groups had been working on for so long. Rightfully so.
It was one of those experiences where you basically had to just dive headfirst and don't give yourself time for second thoughts. Upon arrival we were immediately greeted by throngs of people watching a dance group outside the building, music blaring, traffic everywhere. But I quickly learned that's just Israel for you. My first at length encounter was with two little girls who could only say 3 words in English, "Come on!" and "Cookie!". We played for a while, blowing bubbles and chasing with my feather flower, and then they started to lead me somewhere. Man, these girls were on a mission. Every time I paused they both would scream "Come on!" and would grab my hands and pull. Soon they had dragged me all the way to the other side of the lot where we met (I hadn't even entered the main building yet), and I saw that they seemed to be leading me through the exit of the festival, insisting that there were cookies on the other side. I decided it was time to move on.
So I entered the building, having no clue where I was going or what I would do, or where any of the other 30 clowns were that I had originally arrived with. I spotted an elevator and squeezed in, using the silence as an opportunity to blow up some balloons and let the air out in farts. I think I could have stayed on the elevator, going up and down and up and down for the whole hour and keep myself entertained. But I got out and wandered some more, meeting another clown and playing for a while, then going off exploring the building.
This was absolutely the strangest and most confusing building I had ever been in. It was on a slope, and the entrance was actually on the 5th floor via a sky bridge, and the stairwells didn't just go up, but through hallways. There were random corridors and the elevator took you higher than the entrance floor, needless to say I never knew where I was. I rounded a corner and found myself in a room where 6 or 7 preteen boys were hanging out with another clown. As soon as they saw me put my bag down, full of spinning plates, a diabolo, juggling balls and scarves, they went nuts and rushed me, emptying it out in excitement and commencing loud and rambunctious play. The other clown left and I found myself alone with these kids, and for about 10 or 15 minutes it was all fun. I periodically had to remind them not to use the spinning plate sticks as swords, and one boy in the corner was very energetic with my bubbles, so much that most of the soap was being sloshed on the floor before he could blow. I did feel a bit overwhelmed by the energy these boys had, and this was my first time clowning alone, but I took a breath and kept up the friendly energy and they were all really determined to learn to use my toys correctly.
Then at some point, after I had been with them for what felt like an hour but was probably about 10 minutes, something happened and the mood in the room changed. Two of the boys started exchanging very strong words. Then one boy started to hit the other. First he punched him hard in the arm. The a hard kick in the back. I had already raised my voice at that point to break it up but they were oblivious to me. Then the boy gave another hard punch in the shoulder. At that point I grabbed him and led him away as gently as I could, not wanting to provoke any more violence from him. The boy that got hit slipped into the elevator first chance he got, not crying, but I think they are used to that sort of thing. It all happened so fast, but I felt totally blindsighted. After that happened, I was ready to move on from this group. So I packed it all up and slipped away, blowing a kiss as they professed their love to me and trying not to think about what had just happened.
I went up the stairs and down a hallway and saw before me a room filled with people. That was my way out. I took a breath, and swoosh, opened the doors. There were way too many people in the room, at least 50 or more. I knew immediately I would have to focus my attention on just small groups at a time. Had some funny interactions with a boy scout and army recruiter, and a group of kids, some small and some older with my spinning plates and scarves. There was a sweet girl who immediately understood the point of the flower as a tickling stick, and she chased me for quite some time around the room, delighted to try and catch me. A small boy with big eyes watch with a grin as I performed my scarf in the ear trick. The boy scout gave me a balloon flower and then I gave it to another girl, he was sad and I did everything in my power to make it up to him. Another clown encouraged me to join the army and the boy scouts by kissing the back of their business cards as a signature. Handfuls of children came and went trying my spinning plates. The same little girl who tickled me found my scarves and we played dress-up with her brother, draping ourselves and pretending to be royalty. I stayed in this room until all the clowns were alerted that our hour was up and we met in a basement room for water, sandwiches and a roundtable discussion.
But it wasn't till I came in, sat down, and took a breath that I realized how upset I was over witnessing the violence between the two boys. I wanted to talk about it, but I felt it bubbling up inside me and I knew that if I opened my mouth that I would break down. So I sat in silence and listened to the others complain and gush about their experiences. Everyone had something to say. To some it was completely pointless, because this wasn't like medical clowning, and was more like street theatre we would normally be paid for. I tried to breathe, and process it in my own mind. There were a lot of factors that made it particularly stressful for me. It was the first time I had clowned alone, and the unfamiliar building was like a labyrinth. And when I was in that room, I was Delilah but I was also the only adult in the room, and the paradox scrambled my little brain. There was a moment when I didn't even feel safe, knowing that this violence was in the room and feeling helpless to prevent it, because at first they did not listen to me. So yeah, I was scared. And the fear didn't reveal itself in all it's glory till we were sitting in that circle. I wanted to say "Hey, I had a weird experience. I have never worked alone and found myself with all these boys, and then there was a moment of violence and I had a moment of panic, being a clown and yet also being the responsible adult. Has anyone else encountered violence while clowning? How do you handle that?" But I wouldn't have been able to say that if I had raised my hand. The dam was cracking and I wanted more than anything not to cry in front of 30 clowns. It wasn't because I was ashamed of crying, because I knew I was in a supportive place. But I think at the time, empathy from 30 people would have been too much to handle.
But this story ends happily. After the circle broke up, I approached one of my friends, she was the first clown I had met and felt like family to me. I opened up to her about the experience and as I predicted it took me like 10 minutes to get the whole story out because of the tears. I cried, she sympathized, and I felt loved, supported, and much better about it all. It was a moment of acceptance for me that yes, I am a beginner clown and there are many situations I have yet to encounter while performing or clowning. I didn't want pity, but I needed empathy from someone more experienced that my strong reaction was understandable.
Thinking about all of it in retrospect, I know it wasn't that big of a deal. Boys beat each other up. In the end I am grateful for the experience because it brought up some important questions for me, and highlighted all the craziness that comes with the job of clowning. What does a clown do when we witness things that don't exist in a clown's world, like violence, racism or sexism? When is it okay to break character or take off the nose? What happens when you're the only adult in the room but also the clown, who in many ways is as innocent as a child? I had to face all of these questions head on, and thankfully the situation wasn't particularly dangerous or harmful for anyone. It was actually obvious, I knew I had to intervene physically since they were ignoring me otherwise. But in that moment right when the mood shifted, I had lost all the power and control in the room as the adult and that was disturbing.
In the end, about 75% of that experience was all good. In fact, 100% of my interactions were positive and friendly, since none of the violence was directed towards me, I just happened to be there when it occurred. But that was really a defining moment for me, and from a psychological standpoint my strong reaction was really curious to dissect later on. My heart is on my sleeve, and when I clown I am like a sponge, absorbing every emotion around me, feeding off the energy of the crowd. I didn't give myself any time to process in the moment so when it all came flooding back later it was about ten times as strong, added onto the chaos (although entirely fun) of the last room I was in, where everywhere I turned there was the potential for a moment shared with a stranger. All in all, an unforgettable experience.
The night ended with my roommate and I getting sloshed and drinking our troubles away. It was the best ending of a very very eventful day. Oh yes, and when we walked into our apartment, a piece of our kitchen ceiling had fallen down. But that is for the next entry.
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