
[Dear Reader: This is the third of four installments of a blog post on how this 33-year clown veteran got schooled this past summer, my first full-time immersion into clowning. Part 1, posted 2013-09-24, gives background on the shows I performed, as well as what I did to prepare for the shows. Part 2, posted 2013-09-26, talks about the first three lessons learned. Today, I’ll take an in-depth look at Lessons 4, 5, and 6. Thanks for your time here on my blog, and I appreciate your comments and reactions. Buster]
After performing 17 summer reading program library shows for a wide variety audiences, I’ve learned a lot as a clown performing artist. If you are a more seasoned veteran of clowning, you’ve probably been thinking, “Ha! You rookie!! Welcome to Big Boy Clowning!!!” as you’ve read through these musings. That’s fair, since I made quite a few rookie mistakes this summer.
While I may have known (or thought I knew) many of these things before this summer, I hadn’t really ‘learned’ them to the point that I actually DID them until now. Here are the nine lessons I learned this summer:
1. There’s routine and rigor and play to good rehearsal.
2. A show is a guided journey.
3. Know the show.
4. Listen to the audience.
5. Know the venue.
6. Don’t assume anything.
7. Learn from every performance.
8. Have a support system.
9. There is no ‘off-season,’ just different seasons.
Today’s blog post looks at Lessons 4, 5 and 6.
4. Listen to the audience.
Without an audience, there is no performance. We share the same space, the same time, the same air, the same experience, the same stage. In clowning, there is no distance between performer and audience, because we share laughter.
It’s important that the audience be an interactive partner at every performance. Their laughter is reinforcement. Their reactions give cues and direction and, at times, a resounding “ha!” to spontaneously new ideas. They give us permission to play and invade their space. They are fellow performers, at times unwittingly (and maybe even unwillingly)! They help us perform magic, discover magic in chaos, succeed in the face of insurmountable odds, and bring each and every audience member into the spotlight vicariously when one of them steps on stage.
This summer, I really made an effort to listen to (and watch) my audiences. They taught me many lessons, including: 1) warming them up built trust and a spirit of play, 2) when to drop a bit (a Hamlet-esque skull with a red nose visual gag that never hit the mark), 3) when to run with moments of unscripted play (uncontrollable giggles to a simple butt waggle), 4) how to play ‘large and loud’ without speaking in a public amphitheater or park, and 5) the importance and strategy of pre-selecting ‘volunteers’ and performance helpers. (Hint: Know what you need in the way of size, age, maturity, physical dexterity, strength, playfulness, trust, and self-confidence for each of your interactive bits, scope out the audience during come-ins and warm ups, and make mental notes for approaching and selecting them at the appropriate time.)
5. Know the venue.
As a performer, part of my preparation was to know what I was walking into for each show – the audience, the physical setting, and the conditions. I knew I was facing a wide variety of performance spaces. Some were going to be indoors at the libraries themselves – from multipurpose rooms to clear-out spaces. Some were going to be indoors but off-site from the libraries, such as churches and community halls. Still others were going to be outdoors in spaces like plazas, amphitheaters, and parks.
To preview all the spaces and introduce myself to the presenters, I did a 2-day blitz through all the libraries before the season started. Talking points included:
1) anticipated audience,
2) performance space logistics,
3) sound system and/or electricity,
4) pre-show arrival and setup,
5) crowd control (I don't bring my own roadies or bouncers!), and
6) anything else they wanted me to be aware of prior to my performance.
I figured if I knew the venue spaces going in, I’d be comfortable and prepared for them the day of the show.
The indoor venues could easily accommodate my show, but the outdoor venues would be full of environmental distractions – fountains, traffic noise, other outdoor activities nearby, and the full array of summer weather conditions like sun, heat, humidity, and wind.
I made two ‘notes-to-self’:
1) outfit myself accordingly, since even the indoor settings were likely to be warm during the summertime and
2) have an adequate sound system for the show’s music whether I’m indoors or outdoors.
To be honest, the outdoor venues made me a bit anxious after previewing them. As a non-speaking performer, I’m far more comfortable in an indoor, theater-like setting where the audience is focused, the ‘stage’ is defined, and the background music can adequately provide atmosphere and tempo. Outdoors, in an open air setting, things change. I’d have to work harder to grab and hold the audience – louder (tough to do non-verbally), quicker, bigger, more visual, and more interactive.
I must have adapted, because two of the five outdoor shows turned out to be among my best all summer! The performing juices rose to meet the challenge. I turned the music up, worked hard (man, do I ever sweat!), projected ‘bigger’ and more visually interesting on stage, got physically into the audience so the whole venue became the ‘stage’ (which I tend to do, anyway), and kept changing the audience’s and my focus to keep their eyes and minds engaged. In the other three of the five outdoor shows, things were going fine until the heat (90+ degree sunny afternoons) won at about the 30-minute mark, melting the audience attention span, collective energy, and the show’s momentum. (Note #3 to self: Physical comedy performances in the summer afternoon sun? Really?!)
My iHome boom box, with its port for my iPhone and the show’s music, worked great as a stand-alone sound system in all the indoor venues except one, a cavernous church multipurpose room. The size and ceiling height in that room diffused my ‘boom’ at the far edges and back of the room. There, and at all the outdoor venues, a loudspeaker or more powerful sound system was needed. One of the outdoor performances, at a community park, was the only one supported by a sound system provided by the library. That happened to be one of the shows that really soared! I invited that library staff to be my road crew for the rest of the summer (they laughingly declined).
A postscript to the sound system: I picked up a portable Bluetooth loudspeaker on sale at Costco at the end of the summer, so now I’m ready for the bookings for future large room and outdoor venues to start pouring in. Too late for this summer’s shows, though.
6. Don’t assume anything.
Friends, family, and colleagues know me as a list maker. I’m organized, and I generally leave nothing to chance. To-do lists, grocery shopping lists, trip packing lists, Netflix lists. For my summer season shows, I had a ‘bits’ master list, a show order list, and a stage setup check-off list.
But, 10 minutes before my very first show, I realized that I’d forgotten to pack a very important prop – the book used as a visual at the beginning of the show! Freak!! Lucky for me, I was in a library – so if you’re going to forget a prop in a library, make sure it’s a book. Five minutes later, after a quick forage through the Children’s Section, a teen volunteer came back with an armful of clowny-type books. I even had choices! Whew. Clown butt saved.
Each show this summer meant a 45-90 minute drive from home – definitely road shows. Forget something and don’t realize it until you’re setting up? There’s no turning back. Either improvise, drop the bit, or sub in a backup routine. A detailed, itemized packing list was added to the pre-show routine to make sure a forgotten prop did not happen again.
But, even those aren’t foolproof (fool . . . clown . . . get it?) if you assume you’ve got it burned in the memory banks but don’t actually check things off. “When you assume, you . . . “ I’m sure you’ve heard that one before. Toward the end of the summer, I fell victim to my packing assumptions again.
This time, I was shocked to realize that my newspaper props were back at home on the worktable 30 minutes before show time. Lucky for me (again) I was in a library, where there are newspapers and all kinds of creative arts materials in the backroom. A handful of helpful library staff, some fast-acting and improvised prop construction, and 20 minutes later, that clown bacon was pulled from the fire, the show went on to gales of laughter, and I humbly gave thanks for the grace that made it possible.
I learned a few additional things not to assume this summer:
1) GPS directions can sometimes lead you into dead ends on the wrong side of a park (so allow extra time).
2) Traffic volume can vary greatly at different times of the day, especially in large metropolitan areas like Portland, wreaking havoc on Google estimated driving times and best routes (so allow extra time).
3) As smart as they may be, iPhones do NOT know when to put themselves into Airplane Mode. An incoming call halfway through one show reminded me of that (so make sure it’s on your stage setup check-off list,
note to self #4).
And so goes the story about how Buster went to clown performing arts reality school this summer and got schooled. In the final of four installments of this blog post, I’ll explain and reflect on the last three lessons learned at the Summer School of Clown Knocks. Look for it in a couple of days.
Laugh for the health of it,
Mike “Buster” Bednarek
After performing 17 summer reading program library shows for a wide variety audiences, I’ve learned a lot as a clown performing artist. If you are a more seasoned veteran of clowning, you’ve probably been thinking, “Ha! You rookie!! Welcome to Big Boy Clowning!!!” as you’ve read through these musings. That’s fair, since I made quite a few rookie mistakes this summer.
While I may have known (or thought I knew) many of these things before this summer, I hadn’t really ‘learned’ them to the point that I actually DID them until now. Here are the nine lessons I learned this summer:
1. There’s routine and rigor and play to good rehearsal.
2. A show is a guided journey.
3. Know the show.
4. Listen to the audience.
5. Know the venue.
6. Don’t assume anything.
7. Learn from every performance.
8. Have a support system.
9. There is no ‘off-season,’ just different seasons.
Today’s blog post looks at Lessons 4, 5 and 6.
4. Listen to the audience.
Without an audience, there is no performance. We share the same space, the same time, the same air, the same experience, the same stage. In clowning, there is no distance between performer and audience, because we share laughter.
It’s important that the audience be an interactive partner at every performance. Their laughter is reinforcement. Their reactions give cues and direction and, at times, a resounding “ha!” to spontaneously new ideas. They give us permission to play and invade their space. They are fellow performers, at times unwittingly (and maybe even unwillingly)! They help us perform magic, discover magic in chaos, succeed in the face of insurmountable odds, and bring each and every audience member into the spotlight vicariously when one of them steps on stage.
This summer, I really made an effort to listen to (and watch) my audiences. They taught me many lessons, including: 1) warming them up built trust and a spirit of play, 2) when to drop a bit (a Hamlet-esque skull with a red nose visual gag that never hit the mark), 3) when to run with moments of unscripted play (uncontrollable giggles to a simple butt waggle), 4) how to play ‘large and loud’ without speaking in a public amphitheater or park, and 5) the importance and strategy of pre-selecting ‘volunteers’ and performance helpers. (Hint: Know what you need in the way of size, age, maturity, physical dexterity, strength, playfulness, trust, and self-confidence for each of your interactive bits, scope out the audience during come-ins and warm ups, and make mental notes for approaching and selecting them at the appropriate time.)
5. Know the venue.
As a performer, part of my preparation was to know what I was walking into for each show – the audience, the physical setting, and the conditions. I knew I was facing a wide variety of performance spaces. Some were going to be indoors at the libraries themselves – from multipurpose rooms to clear-out spaces. Some were going to be indoors but off-site from the libraries, such as churches and community halls. Still others were going to be outdoors in spaces like plazas, amphitheaters, and parks.
To preview all the spaces and introduce myself to the presenters, I did a 2-day blitz through all the libraries before the season started. Talking points included:
1) anticipated audience,
2) performance space logistics,
3) sound system and/or electricity,
4) pre-show arrival and setup,
5) crowd control (I don't bring my own roadies or bouncers!), and
6) anything else they wanted me to be aware of prior to my performance.
I figured if I knew the venue spaces going in, I’d be comfortable and prepared for them the day of the show.
The indoor venues could easily accommodate my show, but the outdoor venues would be full of environmental distractions – fountains, traffic noise, other outdoor activities nearby, and the full array of summer weather conditions like sun, heat, humidity, and wind.
I made two ‘notes-to-self’:
1) outfit myself accordingly, since even the indoor settings were likely to be warm during the summertime and
2) have an adequate sound system for the show’s music whether I’m indoors or outdoors.
To be honest, the outdoor venues made me a bit anxious after previewing them. As a non-speaking performer, I’m far more comfortable in an indoor, theater-like setting where the audience is focused, the ‘stage’ is defined, and the background music can adequately provide atmosphere and tempo. Outdoors, in an open air setting, things change. I’d have to work harder to grab and hold the audience – louder (tough to do non-verbally), quicker, bigger, more visual, and more interactive.
I must have adapted, because two of the five outdoor shows turned out to be among my best all summer! The performing juices rose to meet the challenge. I turned the music up, worked hard (man, do I ever sweat!), projected ‘bigger’ and more visually interesting on stage, got physically into the audience so the whole venue became the ‘stage’ (which I tend to do, anyway), and kept changing the audience’s and my focus to keep their eyes and minds engaged. In the other three of the five outdoor shows, things were going fine until the heat (90+ degree sunny afternoons) won at about the 30-minute mark, melting the audience attention span, collective energy, and the show’s momentum. (Note #3 to self: Physical comedy performances in the summer afternoon sun? Really?!)
My iHome boom box, with its port for my iPhone and the show’s music, worked great as a stand-alone sound system in all the indoor venues except one, a cavernous church multipurpose room. The size and ceiling height in that room diffused my ‘boom’ at the far edges and back of the room. There, and at all the outdoor venues, a loudspeaker or more powerful sound system was needed. One of the outdoor performances, at a community park, was the only one supported by a sound system provided by the library. That happened to be one of the shows that really soared! I invited that library staff to be my road crew for the rest of the summer (they laughingly declined).
A postscript to the sound system: I picked up a portable Bluetooth loudspeaker on sale at Costco at the end of the summer, so now I’m ready for the bookings for future large room and outdoor venues to start pouring in. Too late for this summer’s shows, though.
6. Don’t assume anything.
Friends, family, and colleagues know me as a list maker. I’m organized, and I generally leave nothing to chance. To-do lists, grocery shopping lists, trip packing lists, Netflix lists. For my summer season shows, I had a ‘bits’ master list, a show order list, and a stage setup check-off list.
But, 10 minutes before my very first show, I realized that I’d forgotten to pack a very important prop – the book used as a visual at the beginning of the show! Freak!! Lucky for me, I was in a library – so if you’re going to forget a prop in a library, make sure it’s a book. Five minutes later, after a quick forage through the Children’s Section, a teen volunteer came back with an armful of clowny-type books. I even had choices! Whew. Clown butt saved.
Each show this summer meant a 45-90 minute drive from home – definitely road shows. Forget something and don’t realize it until you’re setting up? There’s no turning back. Either improvise, drop the bit, or sub in a backup routine. A detailed, itemized packing list was added to the pre-show routine to make sure a forgotten prop did not happen again.
But, even those aren’t foolproof (fool . . . clown . . . get it?) if you assume you’ve got it burned in the memory banks but don’t actually check things off. “When you assume, you . . . “ I’m sure you’ve heard that one before. Toward the end of the summer, I fell victim to my packing assumptions again.
This time, I was shocked to realize that my newspaper props were back at home on the worktable 30 minutes before show time. Lucky for me (again) I was in a library, where there are newspapers and all kinds of creative arts materials in the backroom. A handful of helpful library staff, some fast-acting and improvised prop construction, and 20 minutes later, that clown bacon was pulled from the fire, the show went on to gales of laughter, and I humbly gave thanks for the grace that made it possible.
I learned a few additional things not to assume this summer:
1) GPS directions can sometimes lead you into dead ends on the wrong side of a park (so allow extra time).
2) Traffic volume can vary greatly at different times of the day, especially in large metropolitan areas like Portland, wreaking havoc on Google estimated driving times and best routes (so allow extra time).
3) As smart as they may be, iPhones do NOT know when to put themselves into Airplane Mode. An incoming call halfway through one show reminded me of that (so make sure it’s on your stage setup check-off list,
note to self #4).
And so goes the story about how Buster went to clown performing arts reality school this summer and got schooled. In the final of four installments of this blog post, I’ll explain and reflect on the last three lessons learned at the Summer School of Clown Knocks. Look for it in a couple of days.
Laugh for the health of it,
Mike “Buster” Bednarek