2026 Refresher: What is Modern Clown?

[MUSIC] Welcome to Stand Up and Clown the Podcast. I'm your host Chad Demiani. Thanks for joining me. If you've listened to the last few episodes of the pod, you know I've been experimenting with daily journals. That's not what's happening today. I've gotten a lot of positive feedback on those episodes, so I might return to that format in the future. I am also still planning to do a bunch of interviews with people that I've mentored. Remember when I was talking about that, like six months ago? My friend Esther is going to be coming over in about a week. She's going to help me tweak my setup. It's hard to express the miracle that this podcast is considering my strained relationship with technology. For today's solo pod, I wanted to do a little refresher. I found a few new podcasts that have interviews with clowns and to be totally honest, they left me wanting more. And not in a good way. I think the interviewers were doing their best and many of the subjects they were interviewing, some of the best clowns in the world. It is very easy to talk about this work in a way that is romantic and mysterious to explore the spiritual and existential elements. Clown work in its purest form is this exploration of how human beings connect. It's hard not to get a little philosophical. Have you ever had a dream that you had? You could do. I'm guilty of it myself, but performance art, it doesn't have to just exist in this conceptual space. There's a poetry that happens when we unpack its purpose, but there's probably more value in explaining its practice. If people listen to the standup and clown podcast, just because they're fans of the work, amazing. Thank you for tuning in and telling a bunch of friends. Thank you. My primary goal is to help artists create work and not just people who identify as clowns. I'm reaching out to the actors and improvisers and standup comedians, anyone who is looking for a different way to create relationships with an audience. I feel like it was meant for something more than this. So let's talk about how modern clown can help you accomplish these things. It's been a while since we've done just a general overview. A quick point of clarification. I am using the term modern clown for a reason. I should probably say LA modern clown, just to be even more specific. There are a lot of clowns out there, people who come from a more traditional background, that see the work very differently. Clowning has been around for so long. There are historical records of this work that go back over 4,000 years. Well, Kidney Moore, I know I'm getting old. On Vegas, I played a slot machine. Three prunes came up. Compare that to something like standup comedy, which most historians think began in the mid 1800s. Long form improv isn't even a century old. And some argue it's still not technically comedy. Well, that's a story of my life, though respect. Think of all the variants of clown work that would be created over that length of time. Different cultures putting their own unique spin on its purpose and its presentation. I've talked about this before, but I'm a member of this Facebook community page called Clowns Only. I like how I say I'm a member, like it's some exclusive club. As opposed to a bunch of boomers and gen Xers and young people in middle America who don't quite understand TikTok. Oh, you gotta give them that hook. Toons. I'm fed all that thing. [LAUGHS] And it's just interesting to see how all these different types of clowns try to exist together, but often seem to have nothing in common. There are the trad clowns with that classic American circus look. They work children's birthday parties and corporate events. They are sharing this space with scare clowns who are often just hobbyists who love makeup, but sometimes make a living doing haunted houses all year round. I always thought haunted houses were just a Halloween thing, kind of how you can only get a pumpkin spice latte in the fall. Not true. [PHONE RINGING] Oh, and there's also this whole subculture of-- I'm not sure what to call them-- sexy clowns. I have a head for business and a body for sin. Think Harley Quinn, Joker's girlfriend from The Batman Comics, played by Margot Robbie in the movie Birds of Prey, that's a good movie. One of my favorite things about that community page is often a trad clown will post a selfie of them in the makeup they might wear for a children's birthday party. And I will screenshot these selfies and send them to my friend Natalie Palomitas because these pictures are way scarier than the people who are working in the haunted houses. Come on, Nate. Express yourself. My point is, I don't speak for any of them. This is a breakdown of what I think works for the kind of work I do. Let's start with a simple definition. I love definitions, by the way. One of the prime directives of clown is to subvert any system or establishment that tries to label people and fit them into these tidy little boxes. So I offer this definition of modern clown in the hope that at some point, you find a way to do it differently. How's that? A modern clown is someone who creates work with an audience instead of just for them. They can embody characters or create fictional base realities, but they do not utilize a fourth wall. They see the audience, acknowledge the existence of the show, and that they are a performer trying to win the audience's favor. The primary goal of a modern clown is to connect deeply and be loved. The reason they make an audience laugh is because often that's the fastest way to gain their favor. But if we think another tactic will work better, we will shift our strategy without hesitation. We are equally ready to impress them, or scare them, or break their hearts. Whatever makes us interesting, and allows the clown to stay longer. It's not enough to just entertain a crowd. We have to create an experience. Something that leaves a lasting impression, even though our time together is temporary, we want to foster the deepest relationship we can despite the brief time we have together, which is why we play so foolishly and freely. We commit fully to our dumbest impulses, even though they possess the highest risk of embarrassment and failure. We don't do this because we lack more clever ideas. We ignore our desire to appeal to the intellect because we know this is the only way to free this audience of their own fears and insecurities. If we want them to feel the maximum amount of joy and the least amount of judgment, then we have to show them the way. The simplest path that reconnects them with their primal state of play. I almost re-recorded that because it rhymes, which was not my intention. I wonder if I could make the whole thing rhyme. Should I be writing a book of clown poetry? All right, now we have a definition, or at the very least an interpretation. Whatever you want to call it, I think we can agree that at this juncture, it still lacks specificity. So let's try something different and review it line by line. First off, let me say I don't think clown work has the market cornered on creating immersive theater. There are a lot of examples of comedy where the audience feels seen and heard. That's certainly true about short form improv shows, long form two to some degree. If you go see your favorite stand up comic at an actual club as opposed to watching their Netflix special, there's a good chance they're going to spend a lot of their set talking to the audience. The difference, I would say, in modern clown work, is that we are trying to cultivate a relationship with the audience that makes them feel like a genuine collaborator. Our show cannot happen without them. Not only their presence, but their constant feedback. When we are improvising or in the early stages of devising work, we are highly aware of every change of temperature in the room. Every offer is made to see how the audience reacts, which allows us not only to take advantage of our successes, but to identify the possibilities that exist in our failures. We are infinitely more interested in the things that we find together, as opposed to any ideas we brought to the show. It's not that we don't want those ideas to work. A clown shouldn't present anything to an audience that they think has zero chance of success. Success being measured here simply by. Hey, they like it. So if you think to yourself. This idea is so dumb it has to work. That is solid clown logic. But regardless of how good a bad idea you might have, the clown should still place a higher priority on that which cannot be written. It's that metric of failure and success that we discuss a lot on the pod. Success is simply doing something and getting the intended result. And failure is doing something and getting an unintended result. Failure to us is not a worst-case scenario. In fact, we often find it more interesting because our idea of success is limited by the capacity of our intellect. You're playing basketball. You shoot a free throw. Success is the ball going through the hoop. There are a lot of ways that can happen. But the majority of those outcomes, they look fairly similar. But failing to make that basket, all the ways you can get it wrong, the possibilities are endless. The audience can not only tell us when something doesn't work, but also when something doesn't work in the best way possible. When that happens, a clown abandons their plans and trusts the audience's instincts. We collaborate on a new direction. The clown is still ultimately in charge. We decide how to use this constant flow of information. Sometimes we push back and double down. But we do so in a way that lovingly acknowledges their disapproval. And that's because in the big picture, we don't care that much about the ideas. We care far more about the relationship we're creating with you as we build this show together. We use collaboration as a means of conversation. That's what it means to be with an audience. It's our ability to make them believe that we're all in this together. So they become completely invested in everything that happens. Just a quick note from the editor, who is also me, the clown boss. I said this at the beginning of the last segment, but I think it bears repeating. My description of clowns being open to any and all possibilities. That applies directly to improv and devised work. It's a little more challenging when you have a set show where we want to create the illusion that anything is possible. But also have to honor the structure of the show that we've created, which potentially has a lot of light and sound cues. I'll make a note for myself and hopefully we can talk about some of the tricks you can use to honor a structure while still making the audience feel that they can affect the direction of the show. They can embody characters or create fictional based realities, but they do not utilize a fourth wall. I assume that most of you understand the logistics of a fourth wall, but let's talk a little bit about how this approach benefits the clown. First and foremost, if you're trying to build a relationship with someone, the ability to see them, hear them, react to any changes in their disposition, both visibly and audibly, it's invaluable. It's also important for us to acknowledge that this is a show, and we are sharing this very real physical space. A lot of times, the funniest things that happen in a clown show are based in the reality that we're living in as opposed to the fiction that we're creating. Adore slams in the front lobby. The tech misses a cue. Someone gets up to use the bathroom during your heartbreaking monologue. The suspension of disbelief, it's a very powerful tool. But it also protects an audience in a way that gives them permission to be invisible, to disconnect from their bodies, and the crowd that surrounds them, and focus only on what the artist wants to present. But that also robs an audience of a lot of its agency. Yes, they can laugh and cheer and even boo if they don't like something. But they are still confined to this very rigid idea of what this show is, and the part they play in its execution. The clown wants to remove those walls that separate the performer and the audience, because ultimately we are agents of chaos. We're unpredictable, opportunistic, and desperate to be loved. We never want an audience to forget that this show is being orchestrated by fools, to see us clearly behind our costumes and makeup, to revel in the absurdity of adults playing make-believe. The same way we might laugh at a six-year-old dressed as a heart surgeon for Halloween, or kids trying to put a talent show on in their living room, right after Christmas dinner, with the sounds of people watching dishes in the kitchen, and a football game blaring on the big TV behind them. Where do babies come from? A show with no fourth wall. It just feels so much more dangerous and strangely more brave. It fosters this different type of intimacy. And if you do manage, despite all these obstacles, to still pull this audience completely into your show, if you get them to take your silliness completely seriously, well, that feels like a magic trick. This is probably the most polarizing statement in this entire solo pod. The idea that making people laugh isn't the primary goal of anything that calls itself a comedy show. But it goes back to something I said earlier in this episode. Clown at its core is an exploration of human connection. How do we win over a group full of strangers? Especially when we're presenting dumb and foolish ideas that require them to move past their comfort. I do things that I think have the potential to be funny all the time. On stage and off. You want an audience to have a good time? Make them laugh. You're failing on stage and want to win an audience back? Doing something funny is a very solid strategy. We all have people in our lives that drive us crazy, but we forgive them endlessly because they're fun. I'm funny how. I mean funny like I'm a clown, I have you too. But if your goal is to do modern clown at the highest level, I think you have to see laughter as one of many tools. A means to an end for a much loftier goal. Getting them to love you and root for your success. We want them to care if we win or lose. To foster a sense of closeness and intimacy. They might not know any details about us from the outside world. Not even our real name, but based on how we play, our reactions to their reactions. The audience should feel like they know exactly who we are. Comedy is one of many tools that help us accomplish this goal. But it can't be our only purpose for being on that stage. If we reduce a clown show to what's funny and what's not, then our relationship with that audience is purely transactional. We make offers, they laugh or they don't laugh. We sell, they buy. Shows like that can be very entertaining. They can also be very lifeless and impersonal. And that's because we've given the audience no reason to see us as anything more than a faceless merchant of ideas. A good clown is in the business of selling themselves. Because we know if this audience buys into us, if they are charmed by our efforts, even when we fail, if they see that we are willing to abandon our pursuit of validation, in the hopes of giving that audience the best show possible, even when those efforts don't hold the immediate promise of laughter, then we earn this type of equity that possesses a much deeper worth. Intimacy, trust, genuine affection, and amplified desire for the show to go well. When you've earned those things from an audience, anything is possible in a show. We can navigate through confusion and catastrophe, and they'll stay right by our side. The smallest offers can reap the largest rewards. And maybe best of all, that audience will take it upon themselves to resurrect a show that seems unsavable. So dumb, it's brilliant. You think being funny feels good? Try getting an audience to embrace you the way they do their pets or their kids. Have you ever seen a bunch of three-year-olds perform in a dance recital? Parents white-knuckling the arm rests of their chairs, while their kids fumble around in tutus and ballets shoes. The way they cheer them on and laugh nervously at their mistakes. A standing ovation for a routine where two kids fell off the stage, that's the dream folks. Be funny to build that kind of connection, or be any of these things. Clown boss, play the next clip. It's also good to remember that when the clown tries to do something serious, it often leads to the silliest results. Our failure to be tragic, dramatic, poetic, to present ourselves as capable and in charge, you cannot pre-plan failure. If you do something on stage wanting it to fail, and then it does fail, that failure is a success. It is the intended result. Sometimes you can pull it off, but often audiences smell that kind of duplicity. And why not just trust that often the failure you cannot predict will take the show to places you could not have imagined? This reminds me of a bit I would do over and over again, back when I did clown in a big group for the first time. It was an ensemble called the merge, and at the time it was the flagship show of the Idiot Workshop. For those of you who live in LA and go to shows at the Elysian, this was the predecessor of Cruel Babes. We had a cast that vacillated between 15 and 20 people, and would do about a 75 minute show at the clubhouse. And I'd say for about six months, the founder of the Idiot Workshop John Gilkey, who was also the director of the ensemble, would send out Claire Wolner, and have her do a bunch of movements and free association. Claire had been a really good musician and had a physical theater background. Plus she was really new to clown, so I think John was just trying to play to her strengths. It also provided a counter energy, because a lot of the stuff we were doing was so stupid. And the audience seemed to appreciate Claire's efforts, but also didn't quite know what to make of this very different thing. So every time she would finish and get this smattering of applause, I would walk out with this smirk on my face and say, "Well, it looks like Wolner shit the bed again." And there would be this huge laugh. But I always understood that that laugh was for the both of us. If Claire hadn't gone out there and busted her ass, building this house of cards and raising the tension in the room, then I wouldn't have anything to knock down. So that's the last thing I'll say about being funny. You often have to lead an audience away from what's clever, so you can discover something unexpected in a moment that is earnest. Something that leaves a lasting impression, even though our time together is temporary. We want to foster the deepest relationship we can, despite the brief time we have together. We've covered a lot of this already in this breakdown, so I'm going to focus on only one element of this. The idea of raising the stakes. This very much goes back to the more traditional clowns' role in the circus. Clowns would come out between acts that were often death-defying. People swinging from trapeze, walking on tightrope, putting their heads in a lion's mouth. These are acts that exhilarate an audience. Even more so back then. Right now you can watch 40 of the most unbelievable pratfalls you've ever seen from real life stitched together in a 90-second tick-tock. Back in the day, having the circus come to town, it was an otherworldly experience. So the clowns find themselves in this impossible position. They are sent out to entertain the audience, while the circus hands set up for the next act. They have this limited time to make an impression on this audience, in a show full of astounding feats of skill. It's not enough for them to be this pleasant distraction. An excuse to get cotton candy or go to the bathroom. They are desperate to be loved, to have the audience excited to see them. So they attack their time on stage with the objective of stealing the show. Only an idiot can think this is possible, which is why only an idiot could actually pull it off. This is very much a quality that modern clown shares with American circus clown. We're always looking for ways to raise the stakes. To create a sense of danger and urgency, how do we get an audience to be invested in our nonsense and give meaning to the meaningless? There are a lot of ways we pull off this deception. We make promises we can't keep. Defy the internalized rules of social conditioning. Just our willingness to face judgment and embarrassment and public failure. That we might be mocked and ostracized for being different. The clown welcomes those kinds of observations. If it means you might like us just a little bit more. If you want to give the audience an experience, as opposed to just a show, you can't simply find a comfortable groove. We see that a lot in improv and stand up. That's not a knock. There's an audience for it for sure. But a true clown, they have to be afflicted with reckless ambition. And why would they think any other way? We talked about success and failure earlier, how they both possess equal value and opportunity. So why not risk everything? Every time you get a chance to be on stage. This part here. Hit that 30 second icon and listen to it again. That rhyming part, it's starting to grow on me. It took me many, many years to understand this element of the work. I was already out there making things that people liked. And sometimes I would pull this off by accident and have no idea why those shows felt so different. It's the reason for all of it. The clown coming out desperate for love. The absence of the fourth wall, which seemingly leaves the clown exposed, but in reality gives the clown greater access to the audience. We act like fools so they underestimate us. We give the audience the ability to affect the show so that they feel powerful and illusion of control. That gives them the courage to play the silly games we present them. And the confidence to travel deeper and deeper into the world of nonsense we're creating. The more joy we derive from being radically dumb, the more the audience goes from judging us to wanting to feel what we feel. Instead of being scared that the show might fall apart and that we all might be plunged into chaos. They consider the idea that maybe the rules that they thought were protecting them are actually holding them back from something even better. And in that moment, the clown is no longer the outsider. Because now they are in a room full of clowns. Hopefully the show ends right there or very soon after that revelation. A room full of clowns that will eventually lead to a lord of the fly situation. Lucky for us, we are in it for a good time, not a long time. I think part of the reason the work is so magical is because we all agree it is unsustainable. The lights go out. The audience returns to whatever life they had before they entered the theater. Maybe the show inspires them in some way. Maybe they forget about it instantly. At the very least, a few people got to be free in a way that was wholly unfamiliar to them. A clown can't ask for more than that. Okay, what do you mean? And that brings us to the end of another solo pod. It was really nice going over the basics again. I think there is a little more ground to cover. So I'm starting to put notes together for part two. I want to talk about state of play, a few other technical elements. Stay tuned for that one. And speaking of staying in tune, all my February classes, they're sold out. But I do have spots in March and April. Also, the four-year anniversary of stand-up in clown is coming up. February, I just said it. I don't know why I'm having trouble. February. My apologies, everyone. I'm recording this very late. I'm going to keep all of this in because we learn more from failure than success. And express yourself. [Music]