The spirit of the clown: A self-interview on beautiful nonsense

One day, caught between wisdom and foolishness, I sat down and interviewed myself...

What is the essence of the clown?

To be "stupid" – and I mean that in the most profound way possible. The word comes from the Latin stupere: to be amazed, to be stunned. A clown is perpetually astonished by the world, like a child discovering everything for the first time. Imagine your heart walking around outside your body, completely defenseless, wearing a red nose. That's the spirit of the clown.

This spirit lives in all of us, though we've gotten very good at shushing it. It's like a shy creature hiding behind our ribs, waiting to be coaxed out – sometimes gently, sometimes with a pratfall.

You call this an art form. What exactly do you mean?

It's the art and science of nonsense, which is far more serious than seriousness itself. We dedicate our bodies and imaginations to studying what most people dismiss as foolishness. But I'm particularly drawn to what I call the poetic clown – the fool who stumbles into profound truth.

Tell me more about this poetic clown

Think of clowns as philosophers in red noses. They walk into the world with hope ballooning in their hearts and beauty in their eyes. Even when they fail – especially when they fail – they're celebrating the gorgeous absurdity of being human. Through their wonderful catastrophes, we get a little closer to understanding our own beautiful nonsense.

When we laugh at a clown, we're really laughing at ourselves. It's a mirror ball reflecting all our shared human foibles. That's why audiences crave authentic comedians – it's like someone finally telling the truth, but in the language of laughter.

What does this look like in practice?

[Laughing] Well, in my workshops, I encourage people to make magnificent "poops" on stage. And yes, I mean that metaphorically! It's about creating spectacular failures and then treating them like precious discoveries. "Oh, look at this beautiful disaster I've made! Let's see if it can dance! Maybe it can sing!"

Could you translate that from clown-speak?

Through carefully crafted chaos and beautifool experiments, we access our natural sense of play and wonder. I invite people to amplify everything about themselves – their fears, their fantasies, their secret dreams. Sometimes this leads to spectacular flops, but that's not the point. We're archeologists of absurdity, digging for eccentric gems in the rubble of our inhibitions.

Who is clown training for?

It's for anyone who's ever felt too serious, too proper, too adult. My approach lets each person discover their inner clown at their own pace. Everyone becomes both student and spectator, learning not just from their own foolishness but from the collective courage to be ridiculous.

Sometimes we use the red nose – that tiny mask that paradoxically unmasks us. But even when we don't wear it, its spirit is there, giving us permission to be gloriously imperfect.

What exactly is a clown, then?

[Laughing] If you're expecting an answer about oversized shoes and flower water squirters, you're in the wrong interview. I'm talking about sophisticated foolishness – the kind practiced by artists like Sacha Baron Cohen, Lucille Ball, Charlie Chaplin, and Kristen Wiig. They're not just comedians; they're truth-tellers in disguise.

Your parting words?

When I discovered clowning, I found something more valuable than just permission to be ridiculous – I found a way to build community through shared vulnerability. It's about creating spaces where people can be beautifool together.

Whether you're a professional performer or someone who's never set foot on stage, there's a red nose waiting for you. Sometimes the most profound way to be human is to embrace being perfectly foolish.

Say hi. Make a mess. Be amazing.