The third principle of clowning: don’t move.
That’s it. It’s not complicated. Stop moving.
Some of you are confused.
It’s called “Fixed Point”: Just. Don’t. Move.
What about this is so hard to understand?
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Some of the concepts at clown school are intricate and nebulous, fleeting and momentary. Others are utterly, groundedly practical. Complicité is the former. Fixed point is the latter. Complicité is the relationship between you and your fellow performers. The earnest, authentic, deep, rich, kind-but-not-always-nice connection between two best friends that we see on stage. Fixed point is “Stop moving”.
It’s a weird juxtaposition: the ethereal with the mundane. The alchemical with the tactical. Today was about fixed point.
I don’t have much trouble with fixed point. When someone tells me to stop moving, I simply do so. “Remember the game while moving” is much more complex. What is the game? What is the game now? How has the game changed? Have you forgotten any elements of the game? Who are you playing with, and in what ways? What new games will you bring with you, thus heightening and transmogrifying The Game into a whole new game? These questions are complex. Fixed point is simple.
I get that people have different challenges. And that fixed point is important. When you tell a joke; when you make a move; when you hit the apex, you must let the audience catch up. A comedian does not simply begin the next joke right after completing the first. They may let the joke sit, even waft its embers a little. Stand completely still, then raise an eyebrow. The eyebrow is funny because of the stillness. It requires the stillness. If you want people to see you, move big. If you want people to SEE YOU, move precisely.
I just don’t have much trouble with fixed point. When to use it, absolutely: that’s not trivial. How long to do it, same deal, oof. But the physical act of stopping movement; holding still; being in balance: these are easy.
Today was fixed point. Worth learning, yes. Worth dedicating a day to? Perhaps not.
Le Jeu (”the game”), complicité, and fixed point. These have been the first three days, consecutively. Le jeu is not easy. One must always know the game, play the game, be aware of the game. The game is paramount.
Second is complicité. You can play the game without complicité. This is common in solo endeavors. A performer with no game is boring. A performer without complicité is unkind. We accept unkind people if their performance is good enough. We do not accept boring people.
Third: fixed point. It feels out of place. Like someone said “Most important, you must remember the existence of God, keeping Him in your mind and heart. Secondly, you must remember your fellow humans. And third, sometimes you must stand completely still.”
Is the tactic really that important? It probably is, as this is the world’s best clown school, and the teachers really hammer it home (i.e. they likely know better than me, so it’s likely significant even though I don’t yet understand why). Perhaps it’s to solve a common problem? But if the problem is too much action, why is the concept “fixed point”? Why not have the concept be “stillness”? It could encompass isolations. Or balance. Or very slow movements of some parts of the body while holding others completely still. That concept has depth. Fixed point is, well, less of a Big Idea and more of a tactic.
On day 3 of driving lessons, I don’t think you spend the whole day on the zipper merge. Maybe you teach all the different merges and turns. But a whole day dedicated to one maneuver?
Today we practiced fixed point and played human chess. Other students love human chess. I think it’s silly (and not the good kind). It practices the ability of jumping soundlessly. It practices also the ability of being silent when others are playing. Both are good skills. The latter is much more important. Perhaps I don’t really have those troubles. I’m unlikely to be a physical-first performer, for which jumping would be significant. I’m also not bad at silence. Perhaps some people are.
If the question were “when is it your turn to play?” That, to me, is a worthwhile game. A valuable lesson indeed.
Day 3 of clown school and already I’m a critic.
But I’m only here for around 120 days. And I wish to emerge an expert.
So now, for the next 45 minutes, I shall sit completely still. Unless, of course, I find a more interesting game.
Julian Wise 