In which Our Hero undertakes a herculean task (probably the one about shoveling poop)
I’ve spent the past few weeks trying to reverse-engineer the game we’ve been playing at clown school.
If we think of clowning as a game, what are the rules of that game?
I’ve started building a taxonomy — a kind of manual of play — mapping what seems to make pleasure multiply on stage: impulses, generosity, major/minor dynamics, how to avoid destroying your play, and so on.
It’s still a work-in-progress (I’m sharing it with classmates to stress-test it before publishing the full version).
But the process of writing it has already clarified a few things for me:
- The clown’s “goal” isn’t to win — it’s to maximize total pleasure (without harm).
- Pleasure is contagious; it’s the currency of play.
- When you’re failing, contribute to the game and share your pleasure (don’t try to be funny or clever)
I’ll publish the full taxonomy soon. For now, there’s a little taste of what’s coming — and a reminder that even codifying play is, itself, a kind of game.
P.S. If you’ve ever tried to articulate something that resists articulation, you’ll understand how funny this exercise becomes.
Or, put another way: sometimes people ask me, “What is the point of your Yale philosophy degree?” Now I can say: “I made you a taxonomy of Clowning!”
Julian Wise 