Recently Ciara Thorburn [circus artist, clown pirate (CC Member) and instigator & facilitator of such excellent things as the Spin Circus Festival & Circus Garage Sale Facebook group] did a course at the famous (or infamous) Ecole Philippe Gaulier (The Gaulier Clown School). As Ciara was doing it she posted a daily diary on Facebook which was such a good read I asked if we could post it here on Carnival Cinema so it could be saved and shared.
Thanks Ciara for generously sharing your experience!
I hope you all enjoy,
Cheers Hamish
Day 1# – July 23rd 2019
I sit here with my café ole (flat white) at Café Du Depart, the first place I stopped by after arriving in Etampes. It’s a small but significant local bar, and the only place in this quaint old town with an actual coffee machine. I am in the middle of the French countryside, about a two-hour train journey from Paris, and it is here that I will stay for the next 10 days but I can tell will already feel like a lifetime. Upon arrival in Etampes, I was warmly greeted here in a half-French, broken English, and poor mime exchange with the owner, who quickly identified me as a Gaulier student. Maybe it was my Australian accent, or perhaps my dazed confused jetlag, but he knew. The owner (whom I still don’t know his name, but I feel like we have had many conversations), then directed me towards the photographic portraits of clowns which lined the roof of the bar in prime position.
I thought to myself, this is a small town, I like it.
Setting aside my first world Melbourne coffee snob problems, yesterday was my first day at Ecole Phillipe Gaulier. It what seemed like a small and quiet town, a swarm of clowns from around the world found themselves lined down a small hallway in an excited fluster of meeting each other. Exchanging names and languages, ages and backgrounds, we nervously signed in. The number of students was surprising, fifty in total, which would soon be split into two groups – a morning class ‘A’, and evening class ‘W’. A few of us have already tried to figure out the logic of these group names, yes. Regardless, I have taken it as an indication to the absurdity of the classes which I feel is upon us.
Opting for my second preference, group W, I soon realise these are the clowns that I will get to know on a different level to almost anyone I have ever clowned with. That is kind of an exciting thought, in a way. Taking note of first impressions (mostly for my own social curiosity) I wonder where they came from, and what will become of this group of clowns. I soon find out there are three other Australians, a dancer from Perth, an actor from Sydney, and an actor/school teacher from Adelaide. On a side note, I click immediately with Julia, the actor from Adelaide.
The school is beautiful, steamingly hot, but beautiful, with two indoor studios and an outdoor area. I wonder about all that has been created within these walls, the students who have come through (inspiring friends Tessa Waters, Zach & Viggo, Tom Walker, and inspiring comedic masters Trygve Wakenshaw, Dr Brown, and Sacha Baren Cohen) and ideas waiting to be drawn. I like to imagine that the answers, the gems, the magic is in places and contexts like this. It’s here, it’s waiting for you. You just have to find it, draw it from the walls, churn it from yourself with the debris and destruction that comes with it.
First, the rules. There is no cameras, no recording, and absolutely no mobile phones allowed within the space. There is also no room for latecomers, with a strict lockout. The class starts and the structure for the program is set in place, in the morning we will do movement/warmup and games with another teacher, who is English and seems to have a background in dance, and a unique and enviable relationship with Philippe. Then a short break, and two hours of Clown and Le Jeu in the afternoon with the master, Philippe Gaulier.
The games – for my clown friends.
Coordination and Ice-Breakers·
In a big group circle, we stand and count 1 through to 7, then back again to 1 (in English). Most of the class is conducted in English. A ball is then simply passed around anti-clockwise, to increase the stakes. A new rule is introduced, we are to jump on the number 1 instead of speaking. Another rule is introduced, you can wink at someone across the circle to exchange places.
We walk in pairs, counting ‘one, two, three’ alternately. The one is replaced by a jump, and the two is replaced by a pirouette.
We play a game where there are four ‘safe’ corners with five chairs, and an island in the middle. There are 7 ‘sharks’ who are the taggers, once tagged you are captive on the island. Others can free you by taking you from the island to a chair, by kicking someone else off.
We play Prisoners and Guards, but in a room full of experiences clowns (mostly), the stakes are high. The best version was between only four players, with the prisoners facing each-other. The most interesting version was one where the player disguised his excuse for getting up within a casual conversation with the other prisoner (the conversation was a direction from the teacher). It was as if he was disguising a skill within the context of the game, very clown. I look forward to seeing more of this guy.·
We play Gramda’s footsteps. But in pairs (five pairs at a time), ballroom dancing to music. You must try to retain complicitae with your partner, connection with the audience, and focus with the grandma. You must also try to be the most beautiful dancers. Chairs are introduced as an obstacle, you must both sit down on the chairs before proceeding to tag grandma.
Meeting the Master
First, we sit in an uncomfortably large circle of fifty students in a small studio space. Philippe uses a lapel mic to speak in his careless broken English/French to say little more than “Alo, any questions?”.
Gaulier instructs us to introduce ourselves, with three large explosion noises, followed by our name, then two large explosion noises, followed by our age, then three cat meows, followed by… something? Which no one can remember. Followed by another obscure noise, reminiscent of the explosion noises, followed by declaring whether we “ave oumore” (have humour), or “do not ave oumore” (do not have humour).
It soon becomes clear that he speaks excellent English, he just doesn’t want to. It also becomes clear, that he is a very, very funny man. It is more like he is having a personal conversation with the class, or with individual students, or the other teacher, and we are listening intently, wondering when he will ask a question of us. With fifty students this whole unstructured explosion/introduction thing becomes very long and confusing, which is obviously the point. Most of us are nervous to speak to him for the first time, it becomes very funny, as we all try to get it right. Of course, I flop, but try to show my failure, and forget to declare that I of course “do not ave oumore”. And he famously gongs the drum.
Clown Games
· We dance, in partners. We are instructed to ‘wink’ at him if we get bored with out partner. He then will stop the music and accuse us that we are bored with our partner. We must lie to defend ourselves, to not make our partner feel bad.
I watch the first group, as I am seated too far back in the class to get to the floor quickly. He tells some people they are speaking too quietly, and that they must have fun with the lie. Find the pleasure of lying. Some people overact, some people underact and try to be genuine. It is unclear which one he wants, sincere lying, bad lying, overacting, genuine acting. I am trying to pay attention to more what is generating laughs from the audience, but it is hard not to believe that all he says is gospel.
*on a side note, he said that Slava just “chases the snow”, that he has no gags. And that clowns must have gags. They must believe their gag will work, will for sure be funny, and when it is not funny, the disappointment/misunderstanding of ‘why didn’t they find it funny’, THAT is funny. I agree with this, but I don’t agree with his opinion of Slava. A conversation with some of the other students has shown that some of them agree with Philippe, but I am standing by Slava. And I wonder if they are simply being agreeable with the master.
I jump up quickly for the second round, so as not to miss out. I am nervous but want to be pushed, and I know I won’t get many attempts. The first dance I am in the corner and not noticed. The second dance I take centre stage with my partner, Julia, and give two very obvious winks that could not have been missed. It is at this point I realise as an audience member, I never really noticed anyone wink onstage… maybe I missed it? Or maybe nobody was actually doing it, and he was just accusing people of winking. I am confused. I am self-conscious. I want to do the exercise, but I also don’t want to seem like I am trying to get attention. But I don’t want to miss out. I don’t get chosen, I don’t get questioned, even after the very obvious winking. I feel like he is trying to make us uncomfortable on purpose, but it also makes me retreat for the rest of the workshop.
Mask
A number of masks/noses are set on the side of the stage. He gives confusing instructions which are hard to understand, something about a plastic shit. Someone jumps up, significantly, as the first solo clown. He grabs a mask. He comes onstage to music, speaks some gibberish, then fluent Columbian. The drum gongs. Philippe asks who is sitting next to him, if he is funny, funny like you would invite him to entertain your son’s 7thbirthday, or if he is (mediocre noises). The student answers with mediocre noises. A few more people jump up. He tells them they don’t speak loudly enough, or they are not funny. The audience does laugh quite a bit.
I recognise this as some live coaching aspect, which I like. But I also feel like can sometimes be interruptive. It makes sense, as a lot of my coaches have come through Gaulier, or Le Coq training. Philippe explains the audience doesn’t laugh when they have to laugh, we laugh at the face of the idiot who tried to make us laugh and then failed. The flop.
Why did I come? Because people told me I would love it, but mostly people told me I would hate it.
Anyway, my coffee is getting cold, and empty. And so it is set, that I will clown in the evenings, and write in the mornings. Hopefully, they won’t all be this long, but with no one to really debrief with, I debrief with myself, as usual. And hopefully, someone out there might get something out of my experience.
I can already tell, I care about this way too much.
Ciara Thorburn
*You can read the other days here:D
Ciara Thorburn
Circus Artist, Variety Performer, Children’s Entertainer, Clown, MC, Cabaret Luminary and human being.
Ciara is a passionate, progressive and creative circus artist based in Melbourne, Australia. An avid art critic in her past life, Ciara has combined her passion for conceptual art with entertainment in an inimitable fusion of variety skill with clowning. Ciara defies expectations, using everyday objects in extraordinary ways, and has a knack for turning the mundane into the astonishing with her unique character work.
Ciara Links
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