In the tunnel underneath 14th street I pass a man offering his wares;
A New York Times
Published Poet
SHARES his poems
Poems also
Written upon request
On my way to the F/on my way to W4/ to change to the A /passing a young guy on a bench with his little moleskin journal and his black backpack and his mustache and his shadow of a beard waiting for the L to take him to Williamsburg where the hipsters live/A Chinese man reading a Chinese newspaper/Another man listening to headphones reading an article, “New Designers Worth Investing In”/Essence Music Festival swag bag on the shoulder of a young woman and a drum encased in a GORE-TEX travel case/The woman changing from ballet flats to ankle boots readying for the next event of the night/Red lipstick and black Bettie Page bangs/I hear piano music, where is it coming from, is it a tape? Oh my God there’s a guy on the opposite platform sitting at a wooden upright piano. How did he get it down here? Did some friends of his, out of work stage hands and grips bring it down for him? Is he planning to play all night? Is he just waiting for a train? With a piano?
On the subway a man and a woman who look to be security guards talking about changing jobs and 401K’s, the second conversation I’ve overheard today about career benefits and advancement in the industry of keeping the rabble away from the rich.
The skin tones of most passengers going home on this midnight train are darker than the ones who ride home in time for dinner during rush hour.
What was I thinking about? Oh yeah, clownmommy.com
I’m a mommy and today I am a clown:
7:00 am up and out on the train to school by 8:30
Coffee and writing at Joe’s in the West Village.
Lunch with The Husband near his office in Rockefeller Center. He’s been busy and we haven’t had a chance to talk through some of the logistics of life including but not limited to the fact that My Sister is in town on business and My Kid has ALL NEXT WEEK off from school.
A little shopping, there was a big sale at Tristan which happens to be in the building where The Husband works. Just trying to look a little more like I belong in Rockefeller Center.
Then I go to a Duane Reade drug store. Whenever I’m in a new show I buy something at the drugstore on the way to the theatre on opening night. It used to be because I needed a color for the show different from my real life palate or I forgot to bring bobby pins, or my old mascara had dried out. That is still true, but it has also become a personal opening night tradition, a good luck gesture. It is the beginning of my preparations to go in front of an audience before I even get to the theatre. It’s a ritual.
Gotta get on the train again and go collect My Kid from her after school robotics program. The kids haven’t come down yet. I talk to other mothers about the winter break. J is going on a family ski trip to Utah. M is taking her kids to Florida. Working parents without a winter break register their kids for one of several available mini daycamps. I’ve registered My Kid for the two days I need next week.
“Come on honey, we’ve got to go into Manhattan. Mommy’s got a show.”
“Sure you can have money for something from the YMCA bake sale”, anything to keep us moving steadily towards the venue for the 6 o’clock call.
Get on the train.
Get off the train.
Here’s the deli, need water, Odwalla Super Protein, and that Greek yogurt that tasted so good yesterday. This is mommy’s dinner. You’re going to eat with Daddy. Vanilla milk? OK, sure.
Here we are. There’s the stage. Now lets go upstairs.
Hi this is My Kid. My Kid this is Everybody.
Jef doesn’t want us to put on too much makeup. He wants us to look natural. He’s worried we’re putting on too much makeup Does he know we (the women) all wear makeup to the clown labs? We do. He’s just never seen us put it on. Just because it’s not as drastic as his Slava Snowshow makeup doesn’t mean we’re not wearing it. He worried that would be too much or that my lips will be too red (therefore making a comment on the red sweatsuit in a way that presents an unintended stereotype). I’m not doing that. (If I did I would have deliberately spent time at the drugstore choosing a lipstick that exactly matched the bright red of the clothes wear in the show. I had the chance and I didn’t.) He doesn’t know how many mommies reapply their lipstick just before picking up their kids from school. (My mom always used to apply fresh lipstick before going to the grocery store.) This is normal and the lipstick I use is one I carry on ordinary days.
AND THEN he goes and hairsprays and blow dries Drew’s hair into some kind of sculpture!
The eyeliner and mascara is just to look awake.
“If Mommy’s looking in a mirror and applying eye makeup, that’s not a good time to jump on her back. OK, honey!”
“OK please let go of Mommy’s legs. Mommy is trying to change clothes now.”
“Let go of Mommy. My cellphone is ringing. Can you find it for me in my purse?”
“Hello Daddy! Are you downstairs? Good! I’ll bring her right down.”
OK DADDYS HERE BYE BYE
“Have a good dinner. Do your homework. Please be asleep when I get home.”
Warm up in the space. Feel the vibrations. Can’t go to the bathroom now. The house is about to open.
Jef Johnson’s CLOWN LAB
presents
Clownical Trials
In situ modulation using perception action coupling
and combined object vectors
1st PUBLIC INTERFACE
02.12.09
In the “white box” of the THEATRELAB studio/gallery/performance space at 137 W 14th St, New York City, we present for the audience something that to my mind would feel comfortable at the Guggenheim Museum.
It starts with all of us crammed behind a flat making choreographed entrances and exits. We move around each other fitting into the small space like Tetris blocks in a video game.
Then the entrances and introductions and improvisations
shhhhhh
masks
and exit
solo, solo, solo, solo, solo, solo
each with objects
I am third
group effort audience participation
Thanks for coming
Wine and cheese upstairs
talk of clown and Seattle and video editing
Getting tired, remembering tomorrow is a work day and a school day and a busy day.
Good-bye. Good-bye. Good-night.
Home at last. I come in the door, set down my keys. Hoping against hope, I look for the valentines–still in the box (Wall*E this year) neither addressed or signed and the lollypops, still sealed in the bag, are not attached to the valentines with the scotch tape that is just right there! Supervision of such is my job and I wasn’t here– I was off being a clown. Well at least I had the foresight to buy these supplies a week ago, there is still time before school tomorrow morning.
It’s so late and I’m so tired, but the fact of the makeup, (though minimal), and the hairspray, and the bare feet require a shower before I can get into the bed.
In bed checking my e mail on the laptop. I forward to the class list an e -mail regarding deadline for the art fundraiser. There is a reminder about registering child for spring soccer program (must have talk with My Kid about how much she wants to play)…last chance for discounted family tickets to RBBB Circus… Did I follow through with that other mother about pick-up and drop-off? Is my child supposed to bring something to her Brownie Troop meeting after school tomorrow? Where’s my cellphone charger? Are we out of milk? Did I hear a mouse???
Tomorrow… is… another school day… another show day… another busy day…
Everyone’s asleep…but me!
