Kendall – Clownmommy

Apprehension

So while I was putting together some costume pieces for tomorrow I was singing the song “Anatevka” to myself. It’s from A Fiddler on the Roof . I don’t know what that was about. I have been in two different productions of “Fiddler”… Nope, still don’t know what it could mean.

We’ve got studio time scheduled tomorrow for the women of Clowns Ex Machina. It’s not a rehearsal. It’s just some time in the studio to play. Just a “clown jam” and yet I feel uneasy about going.

What if I’m not feeling “wildly fun!”?

Should I stay home?

Even if I don’t go I still have to contribute $10 towards studio rental, unless I give Kendall 72 hours notice and it’s too late for that . That’s more notice, by the way, than my dentist or my therapist requires! So, now I feel like I have to go because I already said yes.

I should be looking forward to it. But, I dread the command to have energy followed by the command to stop being tense.

It is meant to be fun. That’s why I do it. It usually is fun.

But, the last production was so stressful.

I just got an e-mail from a neighborhood mommy who has an organizing business, Urban Clarity.

She sent out a friendly list of tips to keep from becoming overloaded. The last one on the list; Say “No”. That’s something I failed to do when I succumbed to perceived group pressure to take on publicity tasks in addition to rehearsal in addition to the rest of my life as a wife and mother

I remember my mother talking about how hard it was to say no to the League of Women Voters after she went back to school full time when my younger sister started first grade.

At the end of the day there are only 24 hours in each day, and it is so hard to say, “No”.

So I’ll be going to the BrooklynNite this evening, the annual spring gala and fundraising auction for my daughter’s school, I bought my ticket from the PTA president. I wrote a check for her after she cornered me on the playground yesterday afternoon. As I said, it is hard to say, “No”.

At least there will be cocktails and tasty snacks.

The Day after the Jango Edwards Workshop

Jango warned us that we would experience a let down after the workshop is over, and it is true. I am feeling very much alone here in my apartment while My Kid is at school and The Husband is at work. But, thankfully, I have a performance coming up on Monday to keep my mind and body occupied. I am feeling connected to the clown community though. Last night in Soho I talked to Michael Bongar and Stanley Sherman and Jim Moore, contemporaries of Jango Edwards, who became a clown in the 1970’s, working the streets of Europe. John Towsen, author of Clowns was there too. I just got an e-mail from Kendall. Someone from Circus Cirkor playing at BAM this week contacted her to talk about clown and risk.

Speaking of risk, it was a risk to take the Jango Edwards workshop this week. Based on what I had seen on the internet, I found him offensive and scary and I was dis-inclined to take the workshop. But, Jef Johnson said that his workshops are inspirational. So I took the risk.

Jango’s aesthetic is certainly not mine, but the way he talks about the importance of clowns in the world is something I have not heard since I was last around Steve Smith. There is something wonderful about the belief that the world needs more clowns when one is a clown or a clown in training. When I was at Clown College, we were working and sweating and nursing injuries because we were trying so hard to win of the contracts to tour with The Greatest Show on Earth, kind of like So You Think You Can Dance. At the same time we were taught that it was important for us to appreciate what we had been given. It seemed a happy bit of subversive action, reflected in the promotional materials at the time, that there was as much pride in the Clown College graduates who had gone on to become doctors, teachers and lawyers as those who become name entertainers or part of Clown Alley on the Red Unit or the Blue Unit.

Steve Smith made sure that when we left Clown College, with our professionally designed agent suits and our make-up kits full of the Krylon, Mehron and Ben Nye products that worked best for our particular skin, in addition to all of the crafts and skills we had been taught by our many impressive teachers, that it was our obligation to be kind and generous to all clowns. As healthy 20-somethings who had just had the door to the corporate entertainment industry opened for us, it was humbling to be reminded to respect and appreciate the work of those who learned everything they know about clowning in a class at a senior center or at clown club conventions.

Sometimes stage and cabaret clowns and Ringling-style clowns look askance at each other’s aesthetic sensibilities, but Jango, who brings to mind Ken Kesey and the Merry Pranksters wants all the clowns to come together in the same community.

The way Jango used music in his workshop reminded me of the Search Weekends at the Newman Center when I was in college. After intensive days of learning and sharing we would stand in a circle with our arms around each other, tears shining in our eyes as we sang Simon and Garfunkle’s Bridge Over Troubled Water. With Jango we did the same thing, but the song was Smile, by Charlie Chaplin.

The Sunday before I took Jango’s workshop, I attended a talk about fasting and almsgiving, which are part of all the major world religions because they can lead to humility and transformation. The same can be said of a good clown.

After the final performance of Clown Axioms

My Kid watched the last Clown Axioms show from the booth. She loved it. She was allowed to bring up the lights on a couple of cues and that was a thrill for her. The woman who ran the light and sound board is so nice to have let My Kid sit up there with her. My Kid has no interest at all in going on the stage, but technical theater may be another story.

The strike began while we were still in the house taking to people who had seen the last performance. Back at Annex, we would have all be up on stage with wrenches taking apart the set, but at La MaMa, the performers didn’t do that. A moment for missing strike parties… OK I’m done. We were younger then and could stay up until… how long did those work parties last? It usually took until after 2 am to clear the set off the stage, and then there would be a party with beer and dancing at Annex. Mom-types would bring substantial amounts of food to the Missoula Community Theatre strikes after the big musicals of my childhood.

I gathered up my bags of costume pieces. I hope I got everything. I won’t know till I go through them and sort out the laundry from the paper today while My Kid is at school. Yet, I felt a little guilty for saying I couldn’t take the big cape (that was made for the show and which I carried back and forth from studio to home to various rehearsal studios and finally to the theatre) after Kendall asked me to because she will have so much stuff in her apartment after the show. In my apartment as well, this week is going to be all about clearing piles of stuff that have accumulated while my attention has been elsewhere and I did have a genuine fear that if I brought the big cape I wore in the show in order to be nice and accomodating and to lighten Kendall’s load, because I realize she sometimes feels alone and put-upon in her leadership coordination role in this company and it would be a nice gesture. But, I also fear the gesture would go un-noticed because the cape, in my apartment, would be at risk of being shoved quickly into some out of the way place (so that it won’t become a toy during a play date because it’s not a toy and it’s not mine but it’s a dramatic cape and so enticing…) and then I won’t be able to find it quickly when the call comes that from Kendall that she needs it back for another production. Yet I feel guilty for saying no. What’s that about?

The Husband and My Kid went across the street to the Italian restaurant where we enjoyed grilled fish and red wine. We stopped at Sunrise Mart on the way home. It was a late night for My Kid who has school in the morning. So, much as I would like to continue to dwell on this production that has come to an end (and with it my identity outside of the home) it’s not all about me anymore. The Husband and My Kid are glad to have my full attention again (and I have to jam my writing and exercise and whatever else into those hours like this one when they are both asleep and I am awake, in the dark with my laptop.

The alarm will go off in a few moments. I have promised to make oatmeal.

Still Struggling With the Production Process

I am still struggling with the production process and how it all went down, how Kendall was disappointed with my work and I was so upset that I shook.

Because Kendall told me that I was drifty and unfocused in rehearsal and because of all the talk about stepping up and taking on production tasks, I didn’t feel as though I had a right to say something like, “This is not what I expected, I cannot do this work by myself, I did not plan to spend my week this way. Instead I didn’t say anything to Kendall, begged my busy stressed-out husband to spend his home time helping me to do volunteer clerical tasks–which was stressful. I let other things slide in the process of focusing on the marketing letter that seemed to be an audience building whim. I mistakenly put off important things like getting my bio and blog up on the NYCMOMSBLOG website and talking to family members about the developing plans for a 50th wedding anniversary family vacation to make a priority out of something which ended up costing me money and making me feel bad.

I hesitated to “step up” and commit in a meeting in a conference room in July, to essentially clerical tasks that would need to be accomplished during and after the beginning of school. From the very first rehearsal I was thrown off center when we had our first talk back and I said “I don’t feel entirely here in the studio.” And I expected other people to say things like “Yeah me too.” and “I can’t believe summer is over already.” Instead, Kendall said “What do you need to do about that? More sleep? Better nutrition?” I was the week between flying back to New York from Montana and the start of school. My time and priorities belonged to The Husband and My Kid and I was not expecting to schedule any “me time” with Pilates classes and lap swims at the Y until after My Kid started school.

As it turned out those planned workouts also slipped off the agenda as I tried to get the marketing letter done.

Because I don’t work I think I can do anything and whatever I have in mind to do gets pushed to the back burner because I live with the flexibility to do that (in the event of My Kid coming down with a cold and staying home from school or being available to chaperone a class field trip. During this production I also was deflecting daily requests to volunteer to be a class parent. It’s easy to give my time away. It takes so much effort to keep it for myself.

Thoughts alone walking to the subway after the show

I was mortified, on the way home, when I realized I had not gone back and hung up my cape properly. I must be a little OCD because I thought about it all the way home. I had gone straight from the stage to the upstairs dressing room where the props are kept, but Kendall was busy in there and I didn’t want to bother her. I tried to hang it on a wire hanger, but the cape was too heavy and so I hung it quickly on the coat rack and left, carrying the prop candle down into the dressing room. I dressed and chatted and left the theatre thinking of how when I was younger, at Annex, there was always someone going out for a drink after a show, but we were young and single and mating. Now with trains to New Jersey and the outer boroughs to catch and babysitters to relieve and husbands to see before they fall asleep only the people who had guests in the audience went out. Everyone else rushed home, a process beginning at 11:30 p m that could take more than an hour.

tick tick tock

Watching the clock… How much can I get done before I have to leave? I have two and a half hours before I have to leave for the theatre. My Kid has Robotics after school today and The Husband is planning to leave work early to pick her up, so I don’t have to leave in half an hour to pick her up. I have a whole two and a half hours in the apartment.

I should take a shower. I didn’t get one this morning in the rush to get My Kid to school. I definitely should not go into a 5 hour rehearsal without having showered today.

I just got back from Trader Joe’s. I didn’t think I had gotten that much but when I got outside I realized it would be hard to carry the 3 bags all the way from Court and Atlantic to the subway at Jay Street. So, I called a car service. I hadn’t planned to call a car. If I had I would have bought more groceries. Well, I bought frozen enchiladas, the kind My Kid likes, they can have that for dinner tonight while I’m at rehearsal. I also got apples, clementines, carrots and mini yoghurts for her lunch. But, I forgot the maple syrup for her toaster waffles and the fruit bars she said she likes in her lunch. Me, I’ve been living on Odwalla Super Protein and bananas and coffee for quite some time. I’m too busy running around to eat. Unless I can sit down with The Husband I’m just not interested.

Enough of this blogging. I need to get the front room organized enough so The Husband and My Kid can make dinner and do homework (IT’S ALL ABOUT THEM) and I need get together some makeup to put on. Kendall said there would be a photographer at rehearsal tonight. I need to draw on some eyes and lips so I won’t be featureless under the stage lights (IT’S ALL ABOUT ME).

IT’S ALL ABOUT TIME.

Relief!

Finally after such a long time I feel happy and relieved after rehearsal.

The day in the studio went well. Kendall told us that even though the show isn’t put together we have all the parts and some good material. She also said she is aware that some people have reactions to her in a position of authority that she didn’t expect and that she is aware that sometimes in rehearsal trying to be heard above the music her voice may sound harsh. I know she doesn’t want to do everything herself and we have all volunteered to get things done towards the production. But she has cast herself as the artistic director of the company and has our tacit approval by our participation in the shows that she creates. So it is not unexpected that we would look to her for direction.

I still had a great deal of anxiety going into rehearsal. My level of anxiety over my performance in this rehearsal process has been way out of proportion with the production. It’s just six performances. It’s the cabaret space. We aren’t even in the eight o’clock slot. While riding the subway I decided that if my work ethic or commitment or willingness to try was questioned I would say, “I’m here. If you want me to leave I will.” Guess what, I had an opportunity to say just that and it was such a relief. All this talk about “stepping up and trying harder” has had upon me (and I suspect some of the others) the opposite of the intended effect.

There was this weird game where we got into groups according to wether we feel really good about the show where it is at this point, whether we think its terrible or wether we are confused. I put myself in the confused group and when she asked me if I was confused with the follow up what can you do about that I said, “…Medication?!”

Finally there was a request for how do people feel about the production work and clowning. I broke the silence with, “Well I judge my clowning by my computer skills.”

It felt good to get it out. Maybe it was misunderstood today but I don’t think so. I think I was clear and concise. I think I expressed with as few words as possible that I’m not entirely healthy about this show and if the work I’m doing in the studio is not acceptable as it is then I need to not be in this show. I guess that’s a little strong. The Husband said, “Wow” when I told him I said, “I am here, if you don’t want me here I will leave.” Most people weren’t saying anything and the gung-ho girl scouts in the group were repeating their usual I always work hard and I am committed phrases.

I don’t understand how people can say; “I always do my best.” I never know if I’ve done my best until it’s all over.

2:42 am

OK I’m awake and thinking of the novelty facebook quiz I took last night, what mental illness are you, that told me I was panic anxiety disorder and so now I have awakened in the middle of the night wondering if that is true.

Maybe that’s why Kendall is always telling me I look confused.

Maybe that’s why I feel like my comments during the chat part of rehearsals are being used as ammunition against me. I’m thinking of the very first workshop the week I got back from Montana when my head was full of the things I wanted to get done before school started. I expected agreement from others who also felt odd to be doing something we haven’t done in months. Instead Kendall said, “Well what do you need to do about that? Eat better? Get more sleep?” I hadn’t thought I had a problem.

Now I thought I had a problem and it was my problem and I needed to fix it. So I went to the next workshop of the “ensemble building and dusting off old material phase”. (During the last incarnation of this particular show, I had a small part, I came in during tech week and was assigned to walk around carrying a candle with other clowns behind me as a transitional device. My memories of the show were of standing in full costume in the dark of backstage watching the backs and shoulders of clowns in the spotlight and waiting for a music cue. I didn’t have any memories of developing material for that show because I hadn’t taken part in the development process. After that day in the studio Kendall said she wanted to talk with me. Now that I think I’m insane, I don’t know what she said. What I heard was; “I don’t think you’re trying hard enough and neither do most of the other women in the company. You need to stop being the way that you are.”

I felt like I was being given notice and that if I didn’t improve, I would be kicked off the team. That was the Friday before Labor Day. The next rehearsal was on the evening of the first day of school (traditionally and an emotional day in family life–I felt guilty dragging my kid into Manhattan to do a childcare exchange with her father instead of having a family dinner and talking about her what she thought of her new teacher. I was also determined to do better because I was on notice, even though I know full-well that is not the mindset that produces funny clown material.

During a musical improvisation where a bunch of us were listening to a song and then the music was turned off and we were supposed to sing something in the same emotional tone, and we’re supposed to make eye contact with the audience and we’re supposed to be truthful and we’re supposed to move around and we’re supposed to make sounds, text even. The song my group was assigned was “Seventeen”. I can see how this could produce some very funny things, especially in the context of this show, a way for “Cinderella” to be for example in the moment after the stepsisters have gone to the ball but before the fairy godmother has come. Instead, my mind latched onto a picture of a very sad adolescent at home listening to her radio thinking she wasn’t chosen and nobody likes her (A melancholy adolescent can be a very funny thing. I’ve seen it work in Shakespeare.) Kendall was side coaching me to move more and be louder and don’t forget the audience. I looked into the eyes of the other clowns and thought; “You don’t want to work with me. You don’t trust me on stage. I got nothing.” Needless to say, I choked. Nothing worth keeping came out of that improv from me.

Thank God my puppeteer friend who was in town. We had a pre-arranged get-together after rehearsal. We went out for drinks and dinner and she talked me down from my failure place. She reminded me that I actually am funny and list numerous performances and real life occasions during the past 20 years we’ve known each other when I have been genuinely funny. She’s a good friend. We remembered how we actually cried at Clown College because we couldn’t come up with a walk-around gag that could get approved by our gag teacher, Frosty Little. One night a bunch of us stayed up until the wee hours of the morning brainstorming walk-around gags and stuffed the box with our ideas the next morning. I’d submitted 5 or 6 descriptive sketches and when one of them was approved to be built by the shop I didn’t even remember coming up with the idea (even though the drawing and handwriting were mine). I’d become so exhausted and punchy that by the time I’d come up with the idea (It was a “play on words” which was something Frosty kept telling us not to do even though most of the examples he gave us of successful walk-around gags were puns and plays on words. Clown College is a guys world. Our class began with 54 students and 10 were women. My approved walk-around sight gag involved a fishing tackle box and a third-arm puppet of a football player.

switching fears

Oh that is such a funny Fruedian slip type-o that I’m going to leave it up! I meant to type: “switching gears”!

I’m home from rehearsal and I’m tired, wanna put my feet up and relax but not that’s not going to happen. I’m a mom. I gotta go meet The Husband and My Kid in the park on this beautiful sunny Sunday for some family time.

We switched gears at rehearsal today. We’re not coming up with new stuff anymore. We have to go back over the material we’ve been improvising in the studio that made us laugh, do it again and see if it still makes us laugh. Kendall, as the director, has the task of putting the pieces into an order that balances a multitude of elements and we the clowns start acting more like actors in rehearsal.

Women in the Workplace and Female Clowns on Stage

A commentator on the radio said that the financial meltdown probably would not have happened if there were more women in high places in the world of finance because women tend to be more adverse to risk than men. The males took on too much risk. Their actions would have been tempered if there had been more women’s voices in the mix.

Apparently high testosterone levels are tied to high profits and when men had higher levels of testosterone they made riskier trades for higher profits.

Women approach risk differently. They make less risky choices and choose safer positions.

Women outnumber men in the workforce for the first time in history. But, the higher you go the fewer women you find.

It’s that whole harder for women than men to juggle the personal and professional particularly when there are children.

Some formerly male professions have become dominated by women for example veterinary medicine (Mattel certainly saw that coming with glamour vet Barbie.)

Clowning is a performance form traditionally dominated by men. There are certain expectations and structures. “A man in a dress, funny, a woman in pants, not so funny” Testosterone based gag development; build, build, build, blowoff. Estrogen based gag development: circle around something getting closer and closer to the emotional charge. Hmmm.

Kendall is working in the studio with a dozen women in less linear development of pieces, working together to develop a women’s style.

What will we come up with???