Clowns are Not Scary
Photo: Bronson with professional clowns Toto and Andy.
A few days ago, I returned from Dallas after taking part in the Texas Clown Association annual convention. Clown conventions are certainly… something else.
Before I go further, let’s address the stereotype: clowns are not scary. Many adults remember meeting clowns at birthday parties, circuses, libraries, schools, or community events as children. Clowns were once a common part of family entertainment. The fear many people describe usually comes from movies, haunted houses, and prank videos, not from real clown shows. A goblin dressed like a clown is not the same thing as a professional clown; no more than a monster dressed as a nurse is the same thing as an actual hospital nurse. A real clown brings joy and laughter into a room. That is the point I want to share today.
Magicians are sometimes grouped with clowns and other variety artists, but magic and clowning are very different. Magicians and clowns are as different as baseball is to football. Some people enjoy both, and some performers cross over, but they are distinct art forms.
Some magicians avoid clowns altogether. Many magicians who entertain at formal adult events such as weddings or corporate functions prefer a polished, serious style. The whimsy of clowning makes them uncomfortable. I feel different. I enjoy the silliness of professional clowns. Actors, athletes, and physical comedians train intensely to perform in companies such as Cirque du Soleil, and their work can be hilarious.
The Texas Clown Association hosts an amazing gathering each year. Clowns of all skill levels come together for a few days of professional nonsense. Magicians have conventions too, but they can lean heavily on card tricks, rope tricks, and technical displays. Those skills matter, but they can become artistically tiring. My colleague, television magic producer Gay Blackstone, once said that if she could change one thing about magic, it would be the darkness and spookiness many magicians cling to. If anyone likes to look spooky, it’s magicians and not clowns.
I’m not a clown, but I attend clown lectures and workshops when I can. I learn stage skills there, including physical comedy, movement, timing, and audience connection. The lesson I keep learning is simple: whatever you do, communicate joy.
That does not mean every routine in my show is instantly happy. Some moments are mysterious or emotional. But I can still show love for my audience through a sense of internal joy during my presentation.
Clowns are often joyful people. When the makeup goes on and the costume shines, the assignment is clear: remove anything that is not joyful, funny, or happy. A clown is a human filter and hedge against all things negative. If you get to watch a real clown show, you will see something truly special. More importantly, you may leave with a reminder to work with joy, no matter your occupation or mission.
That joy is part of what keeps me going at the Magic in the Library Initiative.
Comments