About Me: A Work in Progress

I was born into a military family so every few years

I was born into a military family; when the US government said we had to move, we moved. Every two years we went from the north – New York, Connecticut, Massachusetts – to the south – Virginia, North Carolina. Every two years, a new school, a new first day of class where I didn’t know a soul. There were two ways to react to this constant change: Be wary of making friends because I knew I’d lose them soon. Or make friends quickly because I knew I’d lose them soon. I adopted both ways of coping: I kept to myself – the Shy Kid – but found that by being funny – the Class Clown – I could gain friends. I memorised George Carlin routines and tried them on my classmates. I wrote comedy skits and created cartoon strips for the school newspaper. I imitated voices from Warner Bros cartoons and did a pretty good Elvis impersonation. I learned to juggle at a pool hall and was taught how do tricks on a trampoline by Marines at the gyms on military bases. Practicing these skills at school (except for the trampoline), got me into trouble with my teachers, but without knowing it I was preparing myself for a career in comedy.

I was born into a military family so every few years

Shy Kid spent a lot of time in class drawing in his notebook. I got in trouble for this too but not as often. So when it came time to go to college, I decided to study Art. I loved working with colour and shape so I focused on painting and sculpture. To break up my day, I took a Mime class, which was more silent acting than mime illusions. I learned to sculpt my own body and express myself through movement, gestures and facial expressions. I worked with masks and puppets, fascinated with bringing colour and shape to life onstage. That one theatre class shifted my focus: The students in my art classes were mostly introverts, working solo. The actors were the complete opposite. People I’d only just met were greeting me with a hug and inviting me to parties. I was encouraged to be more open and engage with the world directly, to play with partners in ensemble scenes. It was thrilling to experience how the comedy and art that I’d explored in a random way – as coping mechanisms, eccentric ways of connecting with people – were evolving into something I was passionate about. But I had no plan; I stumbled from one thing to the next letting my curiosity lead me. This approach to life – improvising and following whatever intrigued me – was preparing me for a career in physical theatre.

I was born into a military family so every few years

I got a job at a shop that sold gag gifts, magic tricks, juggling equipment and Halloween masks. They also rented costumes and made balloon deliveries; they dressed me as Cookie Monster, Zorro, a Mime, or a Clown, and I delivered a “bouquet of balloons” to parties, girlfriends, office workers, golf pros. The shop was also a meeting point for local entertainers and from them I heard about the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Clown College. On a whim, I applied, and auditioned when the circus came to town. Even though I had no idea what I was getting into, I gave up a scholarship to continue to study art, and headed south to Florida with 60 other “class clowns.” I had teachers who actually encouraged me to create chaos and be as funny as I wanted to be. I got a job with the Ringling circus and spent a year touring America doing broad clown comedy. I dressed in drag and played a “sexy” woman who wreaks havoc on a construction site, I danced in costumes weighted down with sequins and rhinestones, I walked a rolling globe, juggled and rode a unicycle, was hit by soap pies, got peed on by lions, went swimming in a lake with trained baboons, dove through hoops of fire and did flying high dives over elephants. My life had literally become a circus.

I was born into a military family so every few years

I left Ringling after 1 year: I wanted to explore clowning in a space more intimate than a 3-ring circus. With two of my Clown College classmates, I formed the Abbotts of Unreason and we created a unique style of acrobatic-slapstick. After 5 years of touring, I decided I needed more training and was introduced to the Dell’Arte School in Blue Lake, California, an 8 month program focusing on the Actor-as-Creator. I studied Mask Performance, Melodrama, Clown (influenced by Lecoq/Gaulier), and Commedia dell’arte. It was intense and enlightening, so much so, I stayed there for the next 10 years, creating solo shows, working with the resident touring company, the Dell’Arte Players, forming another physical comedy troupe, Los Payasos Mendigos (photo), and eventually teaching Mask Making and Performance, Slapstick, Clown and Commedia as part of the main faculty at Dell’Arte. It was a dream job in one of the most magical and naturally stunning parts of the world, home to giant redwood forests and the wild coasts of northern California. I met my future wife and we moved to Europe where there were more opportunities to create our own style of theatre. We played in 1-ring circuses, cabarets, black box theatres and outdoor festivals. We called our company, Nakupelle (Finnish for “naked fool”).

I was born into a military family so every few years

Nakupelle combined Physical Theatre, Clowning, Masks, Puppetry, Slapstick and Dance. Many of our shows were inspired by masks we’d created or skills we wanted to explore. Europe was more open to different forms of theatre, and since we worked without words or in gibberish, we were able to play all over the world. And I’d fulfilled something I’d always dreamed of: having success and winning over audiences with work that was completely self-created. While building the shows we pushed ourselves to learn new skills – prop making, creating new styles of masks and puppets, designing and sewing costumes, building portable sets. It was hard work but it gave birth to shows that were original, artistic, poetic, drew in big crowds and were great fun to play. Because we used the creative process to explore new skills as actors and builders, within a few years I was able to offer those skills to others as a teacher, director and designer. Each of these roles taught me new things and lead to collaborations with other professionals. This learning process also taught me something essential about clowning and the creative process; the driving force for any artist is curiosity. Once you start feeding it, it wants more. Most importantly, you fall in love with learning and it becomes easier to acquire new skills. And for a clown, there is no style of theatre, no skillset, no idea that is off limits! It was a lot to think about, so what better way to understand what I’d learned, than by writing a book.

I was born into a military family so every few years

CLOWN The Physical Comedian was a labour of love. For clowning, for slapstick comedy, for the creative process. It’s a homage to all my teachers, a distillation of my understanding of the art form, and most of all, a desire to offer a different approach to clowning, not focused on failing, flopping, stupidity, finding a personal clown or an obsession with getting laughs every few seconds. My approach emphasises playfulness and finding joy in the work. And it provides something that I found sorely lacking in books about clowning: How do you actually create a clown routine? How do you develop slapstick into a scene, create comedy with props and costumes? How do you carry on with your creative process when nothing seems to be working? Put simply, CLOWN The Physical Comedian is a handbook for creating comedy and inspiring curiosity. I’ve had great response to the book and it’s helped me to connect with artists all over the world. My second book, DRAMA GAMES for Clowning and Physical Comedy has just been published by Nick Hern Books. It offers variations on the exercises in my first book as well as new ones you won’t find anywhere else. Go here for more info.

I was born into a military family so every few years

I grew up in small towns in America. There was no one I knew who did clowning, live theatre, who knew about European street festivals, cabarets, Shakespeare’s Globe, who played with masks or puppets, who had seen a 1-ring circus, that knew you could train and get a job as a physical comedian. So I had no mentors, no guides other than parents who loved to laugh and dance. I have a pretty vivid imagination, but I never imagined myself making a living as a clown, teaching and directing others, designing masks, puppets and eccentric props, living in Europe, nor writing books. Looking back, my life was mostly improvised. I trusted my instincts and took leaps of blind faith. I was led by a desire to experience as much as I could, to dive head first into every opportunity, to leave behind a diverse body of work and not rest on early successes. I love collaborating, sharing what I’ve learned with others and creating new work together. The more I learned about clowning and the creative process, the more I realised, it’s not a way of making a living, it’s a way of living your life. A way of training your body and mind to embrace and celebrate playfulness, to be passionate about being curious, not get complacent but continue to explore, to cultivate joy in order to deepen your connection to the world around you. That your life ought to be a work in progress, always moving towards the light, until you take your very last breath.