art for all

23. The fears of a clown

April 05, 2021 Danny Gregory Season 2 Episode 23
art for all
23. The fears of a clown
Show Notes Transcript

Sometimes the only way to deal with your fears is to embrace them. What's that like?



Welcome to art for all the sketchbook skool podcast. I'm your host, Danny Gregory. I'm the author of a dozen or so books on art and creativity. And I'm a sketchbook artist. And. This week, I have a confession to make. I'm afraid. I'm afraid of, of lots of things. And I always have been when I was little, I was afraid of, of getting lost of monsters of the dark leader. I became afraid of girls, of exams, of plane crashes. Of my stepfather of fire engines pulling up outside my house for awhile. I was afraid of going to the ATM afraid I had no money. I've been long afraid of my body, of the hidden diseases and disasters. It's concealing. I've been afraid of strangers who write me mean emails, telling me why they no longer liked me or my company or my podcast. I've been afraid of speaking to crowded rooms. I've been afraid of death, especially the deaths of people. I love. I've been afraid to draw the freight. I can't do it. If we're willing to open ourselves up and be laid bare to respond to the moment and without hesitation to connect deeply with our audiences, eyeballs and the minds behind we'll be freed of the bullshit that holds us back. I've come to believe that my life's purpose, the key to my happiness. Is to pare away the things I fear some I've outgrown. I can now sleep with the door closed and the lights off some I've had shaken out of me. I don't fear death much anymore. Bring it on asshole. Some I've just faced. I've had a physical, so I know I'm healthy regardless of what the monkey voice tries to make of that twinge in my gut, the ache in my knee, I speak to groups of all sizes, no butterflies. I drive the freeways radio blasting. I fly hundreds of thousands of miles. Cool. As a clam, I quit my damn job. I fell in love again. I moved across the country twice. I roar God dammit. years ago, I overheard somebody at the gym talking about something called clown school. I Googled it. I found that there's one right there in my town. I signed up for the next intensive session. Why? Because I have no idea what it is, but it sounds scary and important. And. Utterly alien. And then I committed to not think about it again until the day arrived for the session to begin. Why? So I wouldn't check it out. I am now a graduate of clown school. It was very scary as clowns can be now because we wore makeup and big shoes, which we didn't. But because we confronted many of the things that scare me the most, I sit in front of a room of strangers staring each one directly in the eye and telling embarrassing, shameful things to them. I collaborate with strangers on humiliating choreography. I shrieked with fear. I wailed with grief. I held with anger until I literally lost my voice. I sung a spontaneous song about what I lo the most. I danced across the stage by myself to demonstrate my self confidence. And then I had to do it again and again and again, until I was utterly without guile or reserve, I've never before seeing the people who saw me do this. And I sincerely hope that though. I love them all. I never see them again. I couldn't have done it otherwise. Mostly, I revisited the most powerful emotions. There are familiar and often hateful emotions that I've worked so hard for so long to deny and avoid. And now for day after day, I've sought them out and felt them surge through my body, grip my throat shutter through my veins. Crap, my stomach churn my bowels terror loss humiliation. Sorrow enjoy lots of joy. The longest lasting physical to hole was the aches in my cheeks and my neck and my stomach aches from too much. Laughter. I'm not a physical person. I spent all too much time living exclusively between my ears, but a few days of clown school have helped me to, to loosen my hips have reminded me of when it really is to move with feeling, to express myself spontaneously from my gut, from my spine, from my balls to be gripped by rhythm and to respond on a subconscious visceral level to another's movement, to an impulse to emotion deep within. Our teacher now wise and hilarious clown told us that clowning is all about the importance of being ridiculous, because to be ridiculous is to fail and failure is what we all have in common. The most basic and honest human experience though. The one that helps us grow and change and improve and survive. If we're willing to open ourselves up and to be laid bare, to respond to the moment and without hesitation to connect deeply with our audiences eyeballs and the minds behind will be freed of the bullshit that holds us back. We will tap into the deep wellsprings of creativity that lie beneath our artifacts and style and self-conscious crap and hesitation and self-deception and excuses and fears. We'll make art of truth. Time. And again, as I addressed old emotions in a new way, I thought about drawing about how the most important part of drawing is not what pen you use or the weight of your paper at their core drawing, painting, clowning, all arts are about letting go of responding from your gut of trusting of working hard. Can you let go of all your preconceptions and finally, truthfully, truly see, can you embrace and trust your audience rather than trying desperately to impress or con them? Can you put in the hours, the sweat, the pain of failure, so you can get deeper and deeper looser and looser, sharper and sharper digging down to essential truths. Art is not entertainment. It is the way to what matters in our lives to conquer our fears. We've got to face them, turn their ugly lies to beautiful truth and share what we've made of them on the page or on the stage. I may just be a clown and not a very good one at that, but I asked you this. If you aren't making art, what are you afraid of? Thanks for joining me today. I'll dream up something new for you again next week until then I'm Danny Gregory. And this is artful.