Image by Anthony at Creative Commons

Humor is what stops us from becoming dull drones with no personality. It’s something we all share, but we also have our own little version of it. For example, next time you’re with friends watching a movie, take a look around when something funny happens. Some may sit there and smile whilst others may break into hysterics. But when we have no stimulus, we must become it.

I’ve just returned from an awesome weekend at RADA. I was there doing some clowning with actor Roddy Maude-Roxby; cracking guy. But this wasn’t the kind of clowning with big red noses, a unicycle and massive shoes, oh no. The closest thing to that was actually my size twelve feet. We spent the day finding our ‘inner clown’, and yes despite what you may be thinking, you have one too! Now I don’t want to put Roddy out of the job by talking you through exactly what we did step by step, but it boils down to one thing. Find your clown.

How many embarrassing stories of you can you think of? Everybody has at least one. In a sense we’re all born clowns. We’re all born with no clue of what’s going on: through the process of exploration we hurt ourselves, get lost and become almost victims to our surroundings. I’m sure parents may not see it this way, but isn’t that fun! Just banging around all over the place and learning through using all the senses? I say this of course generally; a driving test is not the place to explore your inner clown. The sort of memories you draw upon says a lot about your clown.

I tried this out in London before I came home by getting on the tube, picking a random number and getting off at the station that was the chosen number away from where I got on. Eventually I realised I had twenty minutes to get back to my coach and, panicking, leapt onto the tube after working out properly where to go. I made it back on time, but there was something oddly clown like in that tense twenty minutes. The floods of people slowed me down and ‘acted’ against me, time was acting against me and so was my minimal knowledge of London; my clown and I were being well and truly tested. I say ‘my clown and I’ because in getting lost both geographically and mentally, my grotesque clown emerged in what in hindsight was a hilariously bumbling panic. I’d let go of my level head and instead allowed myself to thrive in the moment and that is the key: even though I was panicking I enjoyed it in an odd sort of way. Number one rule in clowning, TICK!

So, my lesson for today is: Even if it’s not for a performance, your clown is vital in not letting life’s monotonies get to you. Clowns are personal to each of us so it’s not a learnt skill, it’s an exploration. Lose yourself, and you will find your clown.