When Our Hero closes a door, He opens a window.
All three teachers agree: I should not attend the second half of this course.
That’s nice.
I wasn’t enjoying Neutral Mask. I wasn’t looking forward to Greek Tragedy. Friends have commented worries about my emotional health and about whether the school’s pedagogy implements brainwashing tactics. Perhaps it will be nice to have time off.
One of the main teachers says I analyze too much. Instead of analyzing, they say, I should “sit in the feedback.”
I’m not so sure.
When I sit in feedback, I misread it. When they told me my costume looked like “vomited broccoli,” I thought they were literally insulting the outfit. A friend later suggested it was meant to get under my skin — a non-literal pedagogical tactic.
But how am I supposed to incorporate something non-literal without analyzing it?
If literal doesn’t mean literal, then…?
And anyway, who wants to sit in vomit?
—
The head teacher asked me a question today. I wasn’t performing on account of my fractured foot, so another student took my slot. She looked at me and asked:
“Was your replacement excellent, or could you have done better?”
I said, “I don’t want to answer.”
The class booed.
I felt confused.
I asked her to repeat the question. She did. I said, “I don’t think it was excellent, but I don’t think I could have done better.” Then I named two specific weak points in the scene.
She said, “It’s good to know your level.”
And I agree. I wasn’t being self-pitying or self-judging — just honest about where I’m currently at.
I’ve had trouble with complexity here. A few days ago, we had three mistakes to resolve, and when I chose one hug, one kiss, and one Swedish handshake, I sensed tension as though people thought I was trying to be unnecessarily cute. And that’s literally 1+1+1=3. Complexity seems to be frowned upon. So what do I do when I’m tasked with following the fun, and sometimes find complexity fun?
At coffee today, a classmate realized Los Angeles is on the west coast rather than the east, and mentioned she formerly thought Africa was the world’s biggest country. She’s also had much more success than I have in recent class sessions.
Maybe I’m expecting something different from these clowns than they have to give. I’ve watched people forget a promise five minutes after making it. I’ve watched them make complete 180s in real time. Perhaps an excellent clown is so right-brained they exist only in the present moment.
Regardless, they’re great clowns.
I’m gonna miss them. 🤡
—
I’m excited to have some time away.
In January, a friend arrives to the school. That’ll be nice. We’ll take a course together. Probably live together. It’s good to bring a friend. 😀
I asked the assistant about switching classes; she said it’d be good for them administratively. So I might as well try it for one course: Melodrama. After that comes Bouffon, then Vaudeville. A change of pace. And if it’s still rough, I’ll know it’s not the section.
As for the newsletter: I was supposed to be on winter break from clown school for six weeks (Dec 13–Jan 25). Now it’s nine weeks. I’ll continue writing daily for two reasons:
- It keeps me fresh.
- It’s the sort of person I like being.
Julian Wise 