teacher – Clownmommy

Alternate Reality

This month as my mind wanders while I do laundry, and dishes and go to the gym and shuttle My Kid to Girl Scouts, soccer, and ballet and write my little mom blogs, I will imagine what it would be like to be clowning in Barcelona:

The 2nd one month “Clown Master Class and Comic Formulas” course will begin Monday, March 1st and conclude Sunday, March 28th. Registration is Sunday Feb. 28th at 16:00 at the Nouveau Clown Institute. Classes will be held 5 days each week from 10 am to 6 pm, Monday thru Friday, totaling 120 hours. On Saturdays students will be in the media rooms to attend special viewing assignments of films and videos. In addition, each student will receive a one on one session with a master teacher. At the end of each week, both Saturday and Sunday evenings, there will be performances presented by the students, faculty and invited guest artists. These performances will be open to the general public.

If you are interested in attending the Nouveau Clown institutes “Clown Master Class and Comic Formulas” March, 2010 session then visit our web site at www.clownfish.es/nci.htm . Here you will find detailed information and the official form to apply for acceptance to the N.C. I. Registration closes January 31st, 2010,

The master class instructors confirmed at the moment are as follows:
John Towsen, Pepa Plana, Alex Navarro, Pat Cashin, Greg de Santo, Mag Lari, Giovanna Bellina, Eric de Bont, Rick Parets, Jorge Pico, Loco Brusca, Grada Peskens, Jef Johnson, Jango Edwards, Monti, Tortell Poltrona, Christian Atanasiu, Jordi Purti…and more. The additional faculty members for the March session will be announced in the near future.
Also we suggest you do a little research about the artist who will be your instructors during the March session so you have a basic knowledge of their approach to the clown art. Those of you who have clown or comedy routines, stage acts or numbers that you would like to perform in the weekly “Cabaret Cabron” productions please bring those items required to present your act including music, props and costumes. A maximum of no more than 3 acts from your repertory is advised. We also recommend that you bring any audio/ video material of your work which can be viewed by us to assist us in directing you. In addition to the in class sessions you will receive selected data based materials .It is a mandatory request that you bring with you a pen drive or memory stick in which this data can be stored. This information will be a useful reference in the future once you have successfully completed the master class and graduated from “The Nouveau Clown Institute”…that is if you graduate!!!
Finally and most important of all it is the wish of the N.C.I. staff to make your visit as creative, productive and inspiring as possible. To achieve this we remind you that the “Nouveau Clown Institute” is an educational institution of the highest standards and if you come with open mind and open heart then we will open the door for you to a new future. The concept of this school is that it is a school for all professional clowns to learn, teach and exchange among each other and second that new actors who are interested can come and the opportunity to have direct contact with master instructors besides each day an exposure to assorted production, skills, technique and an understanding of the comic formulas that make comedy and clowning function in all environments. This school belongs to all members of the Nouveau Clown community. It is the desire of N.C.I. to function as a launching pad for actors to become familiar with the variety of clown artists and schools that specialize in comedy and the art of clown.
If you need additional help of have specific questions please contact us by: email at nouveauclown[at]gmail.com telephone: 00 34 699341100
To view the facilities of the “Nouveau Clown Institute” located in the Roca Umbert Fabrica de les Arts in Granollers, Spain www.rocaumbert.cat/ie6/home.php#
On behalf of the N.C.I.
Sincerely yours,
Jango Edwards

No Snow Day Yes

Thursday evening

NEW YORK, NY February 25, 2010 —Because of the snowstorm, the city has decided to postpone parent teacher conferences for junior high and intermediate schools, but Mayor Bloomberg says otherwise, it’s business as usual in the classroom.

“Our main objective is to keep our kids in school,” Bloomberg says. “That’s why we have an education system. And right now we expect that snowfall tomorrow will be manageable enough that we can keep all schools open.”

The mayor says the city will let parents know if they decide to close schools as soon as possible, but no decision has been made.

The mayor says the sanitation department also has 365 salt spreaders that can disperse 170,000 tons of salt and 1,600 snow plows can begin clearing city streets once 2 inches of snow accumulate on the ground.

But, because temperatures are in the mid-30s, the mayor says much of the snow that has fallen is melting on city streets.

Friday Morning

NEW YORK (AP) – Mayor Michael Bloomberg says safety was the reason for the rare decision to close New York City’s public schools.

In Albany, the sun was shining Friday and schools were open. But hundreds of schools – from Rochester to the lower Hudson Valley and Long Island – were closed. It was the week’s second snow day for many upstate districts.

New York City officials originally had hoped that the snowfall would be manageable. But Bloomberg says his top advisers spoke on Thursday night and decided keeping schools open “may not be safe.”

There are 1.1 million pupils in the nation’s largest school system. During a Feb. 10 storm, they enjoyed their third snow day in only six years.

Said Schools Chancellor Joel Klein: “Everybody better do their homework this weekend.”

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.

Transitions

Yeah! My CC Puppet friend is here. She’s got some work and some interviews and so she’s in town. She’s between jobs and cities again. I am suddenly aware of how much I haven’t changed since last we were together.

Tomorrow is the First Day of School. Finally My Kid is asleep. She has been preparing, making and going over her lists of things to put in her backpack and things to do in the morning, including but not limited to eating breakfast, going to school and finding her classroom and new teacher.

It’s a big deal.

The Western Montana Fair

Friday, August 14, 2009

OK, The Best Aunt in the World just took the cousins bowling (an excellent choice since it is raining.) and I finally have a moment to myself.

We went to the fair yesterday.

It was not a fair day. It was raining when we walked the kids over to swimming lessons at Splash Montana. My Kid’s teacher was surprised that all of her students had shown up. There they were in the water swimming back and forth just the same as on a sunny day.

The rain didn’t change our plans, only slowed them down. Because it was raining there was no crowd to beat so the kids took their time showering and warming up and getting dressed. I pushed My Kid over the edge by insisting on combing out her long hair for the first time in 3 days.

My sister, The Best Aunt in the World was going spend the day with the kids at the fair. But in the end we all went, 3 generations grandparents, adult children and grandchildren.

It was a big year on the midway for the kids. They have all outgrown the kiddie rides. In fleece jackets they braved the August rain to ride as much as they could on their all day passes and saw the rain as an advantage because without long lines they were able to ride the Tilt-A-Whirl and the Tornado again and again.

There were experimental forays onto the eggbeater which Boy Cousin is barely tall enough to ride without an adult and the giant pirate ship swing. Of course we had to ride the ferris wheel in order to get a good look at the fairgrounds and surrounding town and mountains.

We went on the Storm Trooper. Big mistake. My Kid started hesitating as we neared the gate. Her cousins were enthusiastic.

“Come on. It’ll be fun.” I said.

She slid onto the seat and the bar was locked.

She frowned and sank into herself.

The ride started spinning us fast enough to feel the centrifical force pushing us into the seats, pushing my stomach into my legs. I have never felt this way without being either pregnant, hung over or in bed with the flu. My kid started crying “I hate you Mommy.”

When we called Daddy to tell him about our day My Kid announced:

“Mommy made me go on a scary bad ride and I cried and Mommy threw up!”

Well, the bunnies in the 4-H barn were really cute!

Neutral Mask and the epic struggle of a 3rd grader against her homework

I felt so good, stretched out, open and exercised after two days in the studio with Dody DiSanto who taught a Neutral Mask Intensive here in New York this weekend. An inspirational teacher, she is considered by many to be the best neutral mask teacher in America. It was a class filled with two dozen adults, working actors, some recent MFA grads, other mid-career professional performer-creators with their own companies and several teaching artists.

An Alice in Wonderland down the rabbit hole experience. I was in a beautiful empty studio with a wood floor and wall of windows in the middle of Manhattan. Serious barefoot theatre professionals in dark clothing moved and watched with rapt and respectful attention as each in turn put on the mask and performed a set of actions embodying individual and universal experience in the cosmos followed by a subway ride home to my 8-year-old writhing on the floor in a concentrated attempt to get out of doing her homework.

I felt like part of a community in that Chelsea studio, and the greater New York theatre community, and the network of physical theatre artists in the United States and the world-wide physical theatre community of people who are familiar with the work of Jaques Lecoq.

And then it was over. Cell phone open talking to The Husband;

“How was the soccer game? How was the day?”

“We’ve had a good time together since the soccer game this morning.”

“There’s a Whole Foods near the studio. I’ll pick up some prepared food and we can have a nice quiet dinner when I get home and get ready for the week.”

“That sounds great.”

“How’s My Kid doing?”

“The TV’s off and the she is reading a book.”

“Oh, I’m so glad.”

And so I came home, after shopping at “Whole Paycheck”, with my wealth of roast chicken, salmon salad Nicoise, fresh baked bread and wine ready to enjoy the circle of my small family.

I don’t know how the evening fell apart. I thought I would just get the table ready for dinner while The Husband and My Kid ducked into the other room to quickly get her homework out of the way so we could all relax and enjoy each other’s company.

Half an hour later, The Kid emerged from the bedroom and flung herself onto the floor in agony. She could not write!

I reminded her that she had told me previously about something that happened with her friends at school that she had intended to write about.

No. No that was not it. That was not possible. That could not be done.

She said she was stupid. She said that we hated her. She said that she wanted to die. She hit her forehead against the floor.

She would not touch pen to paper.

I told her we were all waiting for her to do this one thing so we could eat dinner together as a family.

An hour later as the clocked ticked towards bedtime, in the interest of moving forward, I ran a bath for my stinky little athlete.

The bath revived her and she insisted I stay with her, to help her brainstorm story ideas and allow her to throw a wet ball at me.

After the bath there was renewed energy for the activity of avoiding writing at all costs. The cost paid was the family dinner. The Husband went ahead and served himself and began to make his own preparations for sleep and the week ahead. He had spent the entire day with her from the 9 am soccer game until evening when I got home. From all accounts it had been a good day involving a victorious game, a pizza lunch and a trip to the bookstore.

He told her he was disappointed that she had promised do her homework when they got home and here she was not doing it. She heard, “Daddy hates me!”

She wrote many notes, using many pieces of paper, describing how she was stupid and despised by her parents. She then shaped these paper notes into balls and airplanes which she threw at her mother and father scoring direct hits This was meant to prove how helpless and incompetent she was.

And yet, she would not touch pen to paper to transfer a single word from the brainstorming session that took place in the bathroom while she lay in a warm tub dictating ideas to her secretary-mother who dutifully wrote them on the whiteboard for her.

Thoughts crossed the mother mind such as;

“When I was a kid we didn’t get “real” homework until 6th grade, perhaps my child, and by extension most 3rd graders ought not to do it.”

“Is this what President Obama means by turning off the TV and helping kids with their homework? If it is, I don’t think I love him anymore.”

“If this is how much time we educated professionals have to put into getting our kids to do their homework at all–quality and quantity be damed–what hope is there for a single mother of several children who works two minimum wage jobs to “help” them with their homework?”

Evil tired hungry frustrated mommy offered to write a note to the teacher excusing My Kid by explaining that she was unable to complete her assignment due to emotional immaturity–It worked. The text was written–however brief. Food was eaten including My Kid’s first taste of banana cream pie which I had brought home for desert but in the construction of the piece became the finale of the text.

The child’s mood was light as air.

Mommy read her a fairy tale by “Hans Christian Anderson”. She closed her eyes and fell fast asleep with a smile on her face.

THAT KID played us like a violin!

On stage, I can only aspire to the kind dedication, focus and control over an audience that my 8-year-old kid employs on her parents in an attempt to get out of doing her homework.

Pure clown.

Golden Nose Awards

Yes, the New York clown community has its own awards show. Flying under the radar at the Krane Theatre on the Lower East Side, last night, individuals in street clothes, were publicly acknowledged for their contributions to the art form of clown.

Before and after the show there was socializing at Phoebe’s bar on Bowery and 4th where there was the usual talk about upcoming shows and gigs as well as more discussion of the Swiss clown Dimitri and his family who just finished a run at the New Victory Theatre. There were random smart people digressions on topics as diverse as the Food and Drug Administration and the public education system. I saw Kevin Carr, stand-up-comedian/actor/clown for the first time since…some year waaaaaay back during the last century, when we were both in the same Clown College class in Florida. Adam Gertsacov, another classmate, from back in the day, who books his flea circus and other solo shows at community events and schools, was also there –slightly stunned that this was his first social night out with a bunch of clowns since the birth of his son six months ago.

Barry Lubin, better known as “Grandma” of The Big Apple Circus, presented Dick Monday and his wife Tiffany Riley, who were in town from their home in Dallas, Texas (where they relocated for a more affordable lifestyle after having kids) with the Clowns of the Year award for their work as the ensemble The New York Goofs and for their teaching of clown skills in New York City for over 10 years. They remain a vital part of the New York clown scene returning several times each year to teach and perform.

Hovey Burgess, a master teacher in the NYU graduate acting program received a lifetime achievement award for his work as a circus and clown historian. Everyone knows him because he goes to everything and he is acknowledged somewhere in almost every book about American clowns and circus published in the past 25 years.

Deven Sisler, just back from Haiti, accepted an award on behalf of Clowns Without Boarders, a volunteer organization that sends groups of clowns to areas of crisis all over the world, including refugee camps, conflict zones and territories in situations of emergency.

Very cute, very young Spencer Novich, a student in the experimental theatre wing of the NYU drama school won an audience choice award for his eccentric dancing character and mid-career professional Joel Jeske and Mike Richter, and Christopher Lueck received one for their act “Musique”.

But, mostly the evening was a celebration of people who embrace the art form of clowning.

“There’s no competition here, we’re all fighting to make a living,” said Dick Monday as he picked up his award: “This does weigh a lot and it will keep the credit card debt in one pile.”

hot shower in the hope of relieving free-floating stress

I just got out of the shower, my second today. I didn’t get to the gym, but I allowed myself a nice hot mid-day shower because I am trying to get a handle on all this free-floating holiday stress. As a class parent I am way too anxious about the amount of money we have collected for teacher holiday gifts. I feel completely guilty because I have not been getting my maybe-she-has-a-cold-maybe-she’s-sick-maybe-she’s-just-tired kid to school on time. We’ve been 15 minutes or more late most days this week AND AS CLASS PARENT I AM SUPPOSED TO BE THE PERSON PEOPLE SEE AT DROP-OFF so they can give me cash for the teachers annual snowflake/snowman/polarbear/penguin secular holiday winter gift. I feel so much anxiety about this that it becomes obvious to me: This tiny task is a stand in for the anxiety I have about the larger economy in general and The Husband’s job in particular; various extended family members in various states of not-quite-OK; me producing a beautiful Christmas spectacular in my living room seven days from now including purchasing every speck of food and drink and toilet paper in advance because the stores are closed on Christmas Day (well maybe not TP the Korean deli will be open); clown work I am not promoting adequately; writing I am not doing; friends I am not seeing; Christmas cards I have completely blown off; how much energy–if any–will I have to devote to coaxing my spouse and offspring to a proper Christmas Eve Mass; when will I ever make it to the laundromat; the safety of Obama and his family; and as always–cleaning the apartment.

So I took a hot shower…

And as I was in the shower, I was remembering when My Kid was a walking baby and at the breastfeeding support group we were going around the circle sharing the ways we relive stress and I said I dragged the baby bouncer into the bathroom, sprinkled some Cherrios on her tray and took a long hot shower. I was very proud that I had a suggestion AT ALL! But, some buzz-kill PC mommy had to remind everyone that we should conserve water. I was chagrinned, embarrassed, guilty. Only in hindsight could I justify my position: “Hey I live in a walk-up, without a dishwasher and I have to cart my laundry (with my baby in a carrier on my back) several blocks in order to do it in a coin-operated public place. We had cars in Seattle but we don’t in Brooklyn. I think my global footprint is small enough to allow me take a hot shower to relieve stress when I am alone with a toddler and even though it seems like mid-day it could be ten hours before The Husband comes home from work!”
Wow!
That was a long time ago. Apparently I didn’t kill my kid. She is a beautiful confident 3rd Grader.
I just wish someone had been there to say “This too shall pass.” I am aware of how fast children grow. Yet…In the grand scheme of things– what future successful private practice medical resident can think beyond laying down to sleep within the next 30-minutes after being awake and working for 36-hours straight? Mommies are not much different.

Sitting alone in my apartment looking forward to a theatre festival

I was feeling sad and lonely a few moments ago after pawning my kid off on someone else’s babysitter for a play date and then stopping at the Target in Atlantic Center for some bulk packs of paper towels and TP on the way home from the school’s early pickup–it’s parent/teacher conference day in our world. I was dwelling on the fact that one of the mommies I know has written more plays than I thought she had. Another friend has founded her own theatre company in New Mexico, (I don’t know if she is a mommy but her website is pretty impressive). Me I got nothin’…! So I looked up the website of the Six Figures Theatre Company which is producing the Artists of Tomorrow Festival at the West End Theatre beginning this weekend–which I am in thank you very much. I’ve worked there before in several of Kendall Cornell’s clown pieces. It’s a great space. It’s on the second floor of the Church of St Paul and St Andrew United Methodist Church. I think it used to be a chapel.

As a side note about theatre companies in churches; in my own neighborhood, the Irondale Ensemble Project has finished renovating the upstairs Sunday School room, and mounted a new production in their new permanent theatre space at the Lafayette Avenue Presbyterian Church (which was founded by abolitionists)–where my own baby went to toddler play group several times a week for the first two walking years of her life.–and opened their first show in the new theatre space. Some churches are really cool.

Anyway,

This coming weekend and for the next few weekends I will be on stage in; “Oh My Toe!…Why I Walk So Slow”, an theatrical experiment developed with children in the room, conceived by Lindsay Newitter.

In the same festival I am looking forward to seeing my friends:

Victoria Libertoire…
in “The Should Dream”; “An old vaudevillian illuminates the secrets of humanity. Victoria Libertore, aka Howling Vic, lip-synchs, shimmies and hula-hoops her way through perverse, profane and saucy characters including the crone, prostitute and hedonist. Libertore uses her trademark style of combining humor, sensuality and a touch of the inappropriate in this wild and cheeky montage”.

And

Amy Salloway…
who is from Minneapolis but who I knew when we were both part of the fringe theatre community in Seattle… is performing her solo show “Circumference”; “Ghosts of Gym Teachers Past meet the Fear of Fitness Centers Present and the Obsession with Weight Loss Future in an all-new solo comedy about size, sweat…and exercising your demons. From Minneapolis actor/writer Amy Salloway, creator of the hit touring productions “Does This Monologue Make Me Look Fat?” (Artists of Tomorrow 2004!) and “So Kiss Me Already, Herschel Gertz!” comes the show the Calgary Herald calls, “hilarious, honest and unsparing, with a great sense of pace.” Says The Ottawa Citizen, “…an appealing and marvelously funny performer…you can also add brave and original.” And from the St. Paul Pioneer Press, “A MUST-SEE: poignant, sensitive and hysterically funny.”

And

Jenny Lee Mitchell…
will be in the cast of “Dress”, “The war was over yet Communists were lurking in your backyard. Follow Susie, Ace, Betty, Bill, Madge, Mitch and Ralph the Negro Milkman as they navigate their way through Cold War paranoia and forced morality told in the Technicolor style of a 1950’s sitcom.”

That’s three nights for which I either need to arrange for a babysitter and make it a date-night with The Husband or confirm that he will be home from work in time for me to be able get to my friends’ shows by curtain time…

Happy Birthday to Me, I’m 29 again!

I’m too old to be on “So You Think You Can Dance”. The auditions are taking place at this very moment just blocks away from my Brooklyn apartment, at the Mark Morris Dance Studio. According to the official rules posted on line: contestants must be between the ages of 18 and 30.

So close in distance and so far in years.

We are big fans. My Kid loves the show and her favorite dancers always make it to the finals. She looks forward to being big enough to dance in sparkles and high heels. I look back on my former flexibility when doing the splits was just a part of my regular stretching routine. Now, without having “made a mistake” high school, I am old enough to be the mother of the younger aspiring professionals waiting in line to dance for their chance to be on TV. I’m more like the wierd old people with the thick torsos who sit behind the judging table and tell the young dancers what they are doing wrong.

Should I tell My Kid that I’m too old? She think’s I’m 29. She also thinks her teacher is 20.

She doesn’t know about the audition. Neither did I, until I just found out just now, via a fellow mommy’s twitter about the crazy long line right here in our ‘hood.

Should I tell My Kid I am the same age as her school principal, that my age is about the same as Michelle and Barack Obama. PRESIDENTS ARE REQUIRED TO BE OLD!

After the election last week, one of My Kid’s classmates spent the whole school day showing everyone she came in contact with a picture of Barack Obama clipped from a newspaper.
“He’s got grey hairs! Look! See right there! He’s got grey hair!”

Last summer back in my home town, we went to the popular ice cream stand that is a real scene for young families and college students. My daughter and her cousins came running through the crowd screaming at the top of their lungs.
“How old are you Aunt Kathie? How old are you Mom?”
“I’m 29.”
“No you’re not. How old are you really?”
“I’m 29.”
“No you’re not! UNCLE MARTIN IS 44 AND YOU’RE OLDER THAN HE IS!!!!!!!”
“I’M 29!”
“Why do you say you’re 29?”
“Because that’s what grown-ups say when they don’t want to tell people how old they are.”