Clowning Around
By Jubilee Forbess
There was a time when the clown was not a creature to be feared; rather an icon of great artistry, a being that embodied the small moments of life and, in some ways, made life worth living. The clown was revered. The clown was sacred, trusted, beloved, and believed. Every king had a jester and every jester was employed, with paid vacation and dental insurance. A clown on the street was a clown in your heart. No child shied away, no mother screamed and escaped, like a spinning toy, into the night crowds to evade the clown’s warm light. The clown brought truth to the otherwise muddled version of life that the people encountered each and every day, pulling their bodies through work and school and the rollercoaster of varied politics, class wars, and general failures and demises.
The clown used to be a staple in the comedic realm, and therefore was thought to be an immortal fixture in the universe. What, then, causes an immortal to die?
The truth is, people have always found clowns to be a little weird. The phobia of clowns is, as many people know thanks to movies like the infamous IT, known as “Coulrophobia.” In addition to people being historically, as we will see in a moment, afraid of clowns, there’s also a good chunk of people who just hate clowns and think they’re stupid and useless. Well. That’s not very nice, is it?
Besides, if clowns were really so useless, why would they have been around and stuck around for so long? Most cultures have some iteration of the clown. From the court clown YuSze in China who was the only one able to make the impervious emperor chuckle to the stupidus role in ancient Rome, the idea of “guy who makes us laugh” has always been around. The clown also is the only one who can make fun of the king, so to speak, without losing his head. The idea of someone who exaggerates every day life so broadly that he can actually critique it is a nuanced one and yet one that appeals to the masses in, well, a massive way. The art of clowning comes with a responsibility: who are you having fun with, and who are you making fun of? Maybe this is why there’s a darker side to clowns; the charge grows too heavy for the goofy shoulders of one balloon-toting buffoon. Or, alternatively, the smile is a mask that hides a disturbing twist.
Today, the clown is often seen as the nightmare fuel that keeps your stomach churning; the macabre and glowing grin that startles you when you least expect it. Movies like Terrifier and killers like John Wayne Gacy elevated an already present fear and dislike of clowns. In fact, in 1836, a French mime named Jean Gaspard-Deburau struck a little boy with his cane so hard the child died instantly. He was later acquitted, but the reputation tarnished the names of performers to follow, especially the clowns.
It’s like there’s an inherent risk to any extreme, including a creature meant to convey joy and childlike wonder. I suggest the remedy to this phenomenon is to observe the much better ways in which real clowns operate throughout the world. Clowns strive to elevate your spirits, not your blood pressure. Whether it’s twisting balloons, cycling on one impressive wheel, pulling tricks out of their sleeves, or blowing bubbles on a crowded sidewalk, the dream of the clown is to imagine a different world in which people can stop and smell the roses, and to stand outside of societal constraints for a little while. This can be scary, especially when there are people who intend to harm you based on this “otherworldly” dream. Luckily, clowns happen to be understanding. Of course it hurts to fall from grace, but there are many places where you can watch a clown perform with no makeup and other clowns will even let their audiences watch them put on their makeup as an olive branch: “See, it’s just me under this face!” It is my deep wish to see the world full of more balloons and bubbles, and less broken hearts.
So, I lift once again, the immortal clown.