DEFinitiveWords: A Life In The Arts...The Art Of A Life.: May 2010

I'd like to introduce myself:

My name is Dana Elizabeth Fripp, and I am a clown.

I originally meant to just drop in and revise yesterday's blog, but it looks like I had more to say than just how to book me for an event. I think I wanted to tell you a bit more about how I got started as a clown. So we'll just let it flow.

After years of being fascinated by the world of the circus-and especially clowns, and after 30 years of putting it off, I finally took the plunge into clowning in 1999, and I'm so glad that I did.

This was a big deal for me. You would think because I loved acting live onstage, and since I was training in classical voice at the time, and was used to being before audiences as both a gospel and opera singer, that this would be a "no-brainer" transition, right?

Wrong. The bottom line is this: I AM SHY.

YES, all you people who think you know me so well by my seemingly outgoing public persona: I AM SHY. If it helps you handle the truth of the matter a little better, to borrow a phrase from Mike Myers, I am a "site-specific extravert." I spent a good portion of my childhood and a percentage of my adolescence in my bedroom fantasizing about life as a performer, drawing pictures, singing to my Jackson 5 albums, playing with puppets, acting out fairy tales. Kids my own age scared the mess out of me: they could be so mean. Even my older cousins could only be taken in small medicinal doses, cause some of them scared me too. If left solely up to me, I would stay away from massive social gatherings as often as possible. It is almost too much stimuli for me too absorb and negotiate, and it wears me out. I think that's why I tend to lean towards written communication when I really want to be understood.

I am extremely hard on myself. I will mentally rehearse my past social blunders until ordering at the drive-thru at Wendy's feels like a senate committee hearing. It's not that I do not like being with people: I just prefer them 1 or 2 at a time if at all possible, thank you very much. Even live performance, which is my joy once I get there, can be hard to get to because I have frozen, then crashed, and finally burned in auditions. Because God has a sense of humor and is also wise, He has chosen to bless me with a series of interconnected, highly extraverted gifts and talents. So you think being The One & Only Ms. Dana Elizabeth Fripp-the DivaGirl that vehemently spouts her viewpoints and drops comedy on facebook, who gets up to lead the church in fiery intercession during prayer meetings, and who lifts her voice over large audiences in venues like Yale's Woolsey Hall-is as easy as rolling out of bed? Oh, Please. Some days, all I want is my bed! I have had to work very hard and trust God to help me just breathe and "be" in public, because I have never felt anything but awkward in social situations, and I still do.

So...where did this whole CLOWN THING come from?

I believe clowning was a part of an Overall Divine Strategy to save my life.

It had always been there. It was evident in the books I borrowed from the library, the pictures I drew in sketchbooks, and the posters that adorned my wall back in high school. If there was a TV special on The c Circus, or a movie with any reference or homage to clowning (so you know the Golden Age of Movie Musicals was my LIFE); if Red Skelton was on HBO, if Sheilds & Yarnell were on CBS, or Bill Irwin's The Regard of Flight ran twice on PBS, you would find me utterly fixated.

I was developing into quite the little "clown snob" as well. I had no interest in the pajama-wearing, slovenly "lipstick clowns" of the Halloween Toys R Us costume genre. I grimaced when watching those well-meaning folks at community events, sliding around in plastic shoes, concealing their faces with nightmarish makeup that melted in the noonday sun. No wonder so many people are coulrophobic to this day. Please go away.

In contrast, it was moments like meeting an absolutely first-class Ronald McDonald while undergoing some tests at Newington Children's Hospital that left a starry-eyed impression with a little girl of only 9 years old. Not only was he beautiful to behold, but he was kind, warm-hearted, attentive, and genuine. He didn't feel the need to blow into the restaurant and overwhelm me and my parents with noisemakers and bravado. He just entered the space and filled it as needed. He filled my heart with so much joy. I have never forgotten that experience.

For any young person, the goal is to avoid calling undue attention to yourself that would result in humiliation and mockery by your peers. This was especially crucial for a chubby teenage girl who had once been simultaneously punched in the stomach and called "big nose" in 3rd Grade, the same year her teacher nicknamed her "Goofy" against her wishes, who always struggled to ask a question in math class, who could never quite get her posterior end into those fancy designer jeans of the 80's, who never joined any youth organizations, and who never felt pretty enough-ever. There was NO WAY I was going to put myself out there. I already felt like a clown-in the most demeaning sense of the word. So I just kept going to the library.

"Site Specific Extravert Dana" started to blossom a bit in college. It was there that I became a little more social. God also began to reveal His Plans for me as a singer, which was absolutely incredible to experience. Though I elected to pursue a more "practical" undergraduate degree in Speech/Communication, by my junior year, I could no longer resist taking courses in my first real passion: acting. My transcript actually looks like I also earned a minor in theatre. One October, some friends and I did some outreach at an "alternative Halloween event" off-campus in Harrisburg. It was the first time I felt bold enough to fight through my insecurities to give it a shot. I drew out a detailed colored sketch of myself: a semi-clown/mime character with a sailor-like look: striped leotard (I was much slimmer then), yellow sailor hat, neck scarf, black "MC Hammer" pants (really hot in the late 80's!) and dark shoes. I had read up enough on makeup to know what I needed to purchase key items and apply it correctly. I didn't have a routine, and I had no mentor. I just had a sweet clown face and a safe space to give it a shot. I wasn't the big hit of the party, but just getting "in face" did something for me. I sat in front of the mirror and stared at this image of me long after the party had ended.

It would be another 10 years before I'd do it again.

Classical Voice took over my life after undergraduate school (note how I referred to classical voice as "taking over my life"-not unlike some sort of hostile embyronic alien spore looking for a body to commandeer, latching on with its tentacles, and extracting the life from the innocent victim's frame...but I digress). From 1991 until 2005, my world was about attempting to carve a spot for myself in the highly competitive field of opera. I had started vocal training because of all of the music ministry work I was doing. I wanted to protect and nurture the voice. Suddenly, the voice was "discovered," and BOOM! Small concerts, evening gowns, bigger venues, more evening gowns...local competitions leading to local opera companies. Finally, I quit my full time job, and went off to fetch a diploma in vocal performance at University of Hartford.

Suddenly, I was one of the up-and-coming classical voices in the region. At Hartt, I was one of "The Voices," "The Diva-in-Training." I would open my mouth and people wanted me in their production. All the while, I was as terrified as a housecat in water: trying to find the right voice teacher, struggling with my studies due to a hidden and yet undiagnosed disability, feeling phony and completely out of my element. All the while , I was just trying to hear God's voice in all of this racket. Already predisposed to depression, I often fell into dark lonely seasons of despondency. My colleagues and competitors were waiting for me to make a decisive shift upward towards stardom. It never came. I wanted to be a great performer, but so much seemed to be blocking my way, and it all seemed to come from within. I was not having fun.

My most enjoyable times came from working with The Connecticut Opera. For some reason, I was well-liked, and given a number of plum secondary roles in mainstage productions while still in school. I also performed with Connecticut Opera Express, the educational touring wing of the company. The company's young artists presented various musical programs in schools around the state. In addition, we were called upon to perform for Opera Guild members at fundraisers and other events.

In 1998, Connecticut Opera commissioned Wesleyan Professor Neely Bruce to compose an all-new version of the classic fairy tale, Hansel and Gretel. It would have its world premiere on the mainstage of the Bushnell, and an abbreviated version of the opera would tour in the schools. The cast was comprised of members of the Opera Express. The composer and creative team envisioned me playing the role of the Stepmother.

I cringed at first. A villian? I was the soprano tragedian. Everyone was supposed to love me and cry over me, not hate me! I accepted the role, of course, but I was nervous about it. One big fear? Learning brand new music when my sight reading skills were not getting any better. I didn't want to be found out, and end up disappointing the world again. Oh no...we couldn't disappoint now, could we?

Then something miraculous happened: I saw my character's costume concept.

There she was: Carmen Miranda meets Miss Hannigan. Her hair was a velveteen helmet: a hybrid combination of Wilma Flintstone's bunned updo with Betty Rubble's jet black hue, sprinkled lightly with Tinkerbell's pixie dust. Her dress was FABULOUS: a bright green, empire waist, wrap-around masterpiece with puff shoulders decorated with circular green embellishments, culminating with bursts of multi-colored ribbons adorning the sleeves and the same creating an enormous lionness mane of a collar around the low V-Neck. They accessorized it with chunky technicolor cluster-beaded earrings, a matching necklace, and hot pink shoes.

She was big. She was bright. She was loud. She was sexy...

...and now, she was going to be FUNNY-that is, if I had anything to do with it.

It was like someone gave me the keys to a Ferrari. I delved into the part like a chocolate-deprived woman let loose upon the perfect brownie sundae (and I know whereof I speak). I set to work on designing my own makeup concept. She emerged as this big-eyed, arch-browed, vixen- lipped, prima donna with a serious temper, probably a small drinking problem, and a strong dislike for all children. I made sure that you could see why the stepfather may have been overcome by her appeal, but I also made sure you saw why he lived to regret it!

Once the director, composer, and conductor saw where I was going with the part, as long as I respected the music and the team, they just let me go for it. I had no real training in physical comedy, but I had a little bit of instinct, and suddenly, a whole lot of chutzpah. If I saw a place for a double-take, I took it. If there was a space for a pratfall, I landed it-pink shoes up in the air in full view of the audience, tangled up in a blanket...down I went. If there was a space in the dialogue for an appropriately placed smart remark, I made it. I never said the same thing twice in a row. There were times that I would hear the maestro hoot with laughter from the orchestra pit. One of the company associates dared me to go onstage during a live performance with a box of Cheese Nips in my hand, and eat them while singing the scene with the stepfather. She should not have dared me. I did her one better: I put a few crackers in my cleavage, and just when my co-star looked up at me to respond to my lines, I unflinchingly pulled one out of my bosom and started crunching on it. I thought my friend Kenneth Overton was going soil himself right there next to me. My fellow cast members would wait in the wings just to see what I was going to do this time. It was Pure Bliss.

The clincher for me? The freedom of my voice. Where I normally would've been panicking and struggling over high notes and technique or whatever, in its place there was this abandonment of self-consciousness that released the tension and sent the sound spinning out into the audience. The piece was beautifully written for my voice type, but it was getting permission to spin around and have a comedic tantrum while singing a High B natural that made it a delight.

The reviews for my performance are some of my most cherished to this day. The critic from the Hartford Courant said that I had "elected to see the role as Patti LaBelle's evil twin, and [she] brought it off." To top it all off with a massive cherry, my father loved it. He said he had never seen me do comedy before. He was totally taken by my performance.

OY! WHO CARES ABOUT THE SINGING? I WAS FUNNY!!!!

My music school experience, while definitely having its highlights, was a pretty confusing time for me. Feeling unseen, unsupported and like a failure in my studies, I left University of Hartford in 1998-just one semester shy of finishing. After Hartt, I studied privately with a wonderful man who eventually saved my voice, and always believed I could have an amazing career. I loved to sing, but still didn't see where I fit into opera for a number of reasons too elaborate to review. I avoided auditions like some people avoid the dentist's chair. By the end of 1998, just before my 30th birthday, I was swimming upstream against legitimate clinical depression hampered by unfulfilled expectations...and more.

When 30 years old landed, I wrote my age in red lipstick on the full-length mirror in my room. I wasn't in the best of spirits, but for some reason the lipstick graffiti helped me align my thought processes for a minute. I pulled out an old journal where I had written a kind of free-flowing, non-sequential "bucket list" for myself of things I'd always wanted to do in life. There on the list, repeated several times in different ways, was clowning.

I had been in such a deep hole. To even have the presence of mind and spirit to consider taking on a new venture--adventure, really--at that point was nothing short of an incredible grace-gift. Why should I wait any longer to try something that has brought me so much personal joy just by the mere act of thinking about doing it? I grabbed the Yellow Pages and flipped through the letter "C." Back then, you could actually find a lot of clowns listed in the phonebook.

I believe the clown angels were with me. I made all the right contacts. I found a clown alley-ie., a local clown club-not far from home, and went to one of their meetings. They weren't ready to see a caramel-hued sister come into the building (like I said, we are out there, but we've been a rarity for a long time. American circus clowning was a white male profession forever, still is in many cases, and believe me, as long as there is racism and sexism in the world, sadly there will be racist and sexist members of the clowning community...oh, well), but come into the building I did. They didn't have to like me. They just had to pony up the information.

That was the night I first met the woman who would become my first mentor and connection to the clown scene.

The sight of her brought back memories of that beautifully costumed Ronald McDonald, and of those rare sightings of great female clowns I'd seen in the annals of Ringling Brothers History. She originally hailed from Houston, Texas, and was increasingly in demand as a party entertainerr in Connecticut. She knew how to run a small business, and how to market herself. She had won numerous national awards for her costumes, clown routines, balloon arts, and face painting. Her husband, also a seasoned clown (cilantro? oregano?), was a master teacher on the national scene, served on judging committees at national conventions, and was just an all-around funny guy. Both had a passion and proficiency for hospital clowning, which is not an easy job, by any stretch.

These are the folks that gave me my first opportunities. Not a bad place to start, huh? I am so grateful that I had that kind of exposure right from the start.

Eventually, I launched out on my own. Mind you now: I am still studying opera at the point when clowning landed on my heart-and stuck there permanently. Can you imagine the war going on inside of me? I was learning arias by Verdi, Mozart, and Puccini, and totally psyched about getting fitted for my first pair of real custom-made leather clown shoes. I was selecting my repertoire for the Connecticut District Metropolitan Opera Guild Competition, and wondering whether I should switch from a MR2 Professional Red Nose to the WMR model (I eventually went with the MX3...love it)! I was told at an area clown convention by some old pros that I had "national class potential." All of a sudden it became very clear that just as I was an up-and-coming in the operatic world, I had the potential of becoming a "hot commodity" in this field. A rare breed: An African American Female Clown inspired by the American Circus Tradition. Well, there was only one thing for me to do...

BRING YOUR "A" GAME, CLOWNSISTAGIRL, OR STAY HOME!

One of the first things I did was really study to ensure that my look was right. Your clown has to be your own entity, not a copy of someone else. However, there are some basic templates and standards that need to be considered. No matter what clown type you are, one thing is certain: NEATNESS COUNTS. My number one concern was making sure that my appearance lessened the risk of someone-child OR adult-being too frightened to come near me (a secondary issue was the whole "minstrel show" dilemna in African American History. A huge matter, but a story for another day). I have to say my massive pet peeve is that far too many people who claim to clown "professionally" out there in the community do a HUGE disservice to clowning by not taking the time to get even the most basic reputable training. They just slap on some paint, a fright wig, grab a few balloons, and start handing out business cards! It's a free country, I know, but there is so much more to embracing true Clown Arts. Over the last 10 years, I've learned some of the great traditions, and I've watched the latest trends. I've taken valuable advice (and heavy rebuke) from some amazing master clowns. However, I also listened to my heart, horse-sense, and to my most important constituents-the public-and made adjustments accordingly. While the price and quality of your costume is not the only thing that makes one a true clown in the heart and minds of the people, it sure can't hurt to think about it a little bit. Believe me: folks-especially children-will let you know if you haven't!

I still consider myself nothing short of a novice. There is so much more work to be done. The danger when you get out there as a "working clown" in your community (especially a relatively good clown) is that the market will overtake you, and you become this "human vending machine" with expensive clown shoes. Case in point: While doing an inner city party (and I note the location because of its significance in inciting my indignation), I once had a child come up to me, and ask, "Can I have a dollar?" I looked at him with restrained Clown Shock. "Oh Honey, I'm sorry," I chirped. I don't give away money!" He looked disappointed. "Oh," he frowned, "the other clown we had at a party gave us money!" he boasted. I was livid:not at the child (of course), but at the individual who perpetuated this false idea of what a clown does at a party! I will remain silent on the name of that individual, but if this were a clown version of THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM, there'd be wannabee clown body parts and props strewn all over...

Ahem! Sorry.

Although I want to work for a living, that vision of the future for me as a clown absolutely terrifies me. I fight against it. If necessary, I would take fewer party gigs, and volunteer my time than allow myself-and clowning- to be brought down to that place. A steady diet of volunteerism, however, ain't gonna put gas in the old clown car! I am so glad that there are folks out there who are better examples of how to keep the balance between the business and the passion. I'll be looking to them quite often along the way.

My hope in all of this? To create actual "Living Comic Personas:" theatrically-based characters with a history and a biography; with true feelings, weaknesses and idiosyncracies, and an overall superobjective in life that just happens to occasionally run headlong against the status quo of that clown's current environment. I don't necessarily want to walk into a space thinking, "Okay, Let's Be Funny Today!" That never quite works out for me. What I want is to let people see that battle, make a personal connection with me even if it's from a distance, maybe see themselves and life differently for a moment...and laugh.

Kinda deep, huh? Yeah, well...I also simply cannot function without my kazoo, pink toilet plunger, and several rubber chickens of various sizes. So there goes the cerebral philosophic rant, right out the window.

I said ALL OF THAT in part to say this:

I have got 2 adorable characters with beautiful, non-threatening faces (but I can't perform them simultaneously-sorry)...

One goes by the name of SPARROW.

Hatched in 2000, she is the true original "Party Clown:" a Neo-Classic American Auguste Clown version of the girl I never was growing up. Somewhere between Cheerleader and Tomboy, Debutante and Doofus, she has a way of just lighting up a room with her presence. She boisterous enough to kick it with the fellas, and pretty enough to talk hair ribbons and scrunchies with the girls. Somewhere in that big hot pink bag of hers are usually cooky musical instruments, beach balls, and those screaming balloons that go off like rockets! Sometimes, she'll bring her sheepdog buddy, Shelton (a life-like puppet), just to help break the ice. Although she can be highly exhuberant, she is never pushy or rude, and she knows full well how to tone it down for a room full of preschoolers, or a group of convalescing adults. She'd just as soon sing you a pretty song, paint a butterfly on your face, or tell you a simple story with illusion before frightening you away. SPARROW has been known to have children spontaneously JUMP UP INTO HER ARMS (Whoops! Quick! Catch The Birthday Girl!), or bring adult women to tears, inspiring them to love that little girl God created in them so long ago. It's been an honor to be a part of moments like those.

The other one goes by the name ADDIE RAGAMUFFIN. Oh Addie, Addie! How do I describe her?

Well...She's Me. She's more Me than I am Me most days.

ADDIE RAGAMUFFIN is a Child of Grace. Her name is a constant reminder to me of who I am and what I require to survive. Her first name is a wink to my lifelong challenge with Attention Deficit Disorder-struggles that continue to this day and produce some of the single most frustrating, disheartening, and HILARIOUS moments in my 41 years on this planet. Her last name is inspired by the wonderful book, The Ragamuffin Gospel, by Brennan Manning. I stumbled across the volume on one of my regular "I don't buy, I just browse" visits to B&N. I started bawling in the aisle as I read it. The book is a winsome lyrical reminder to us that we are all just "ragamuffins" on the road of life, desperately in need of God's Love and Grace.

I began to sketch out the concept for a street urchin-like character, more in the tradition of Charlie Chaplin, Emmett Kelly, Red Skelton's Freddie the Freeloader, and Carol Burnett's famous "Cleaning Lady." I could see her also taking inspiration from the post-Civil War Carpetbaggers, emancipated African-Americans, and from the impoverished peoples of the Great Depression era. The question was whether or not I was willing to walk away from a familiar and very popular character, to try a character that could prove to be a little more offbeat, that highlighted some of my real insecurities, play her even closer to the chest than SPARROW, and could possibly wind up more difficult of a character for people to accept?

It wasn't quite time yet, but something told me she was not going to be too long in coming.

While still getting work as my SPARROW character, about 3 years ago I started to think about making some changes to her personality. You should always be willing to reexamine your clown's persona. It's too easy to get stuck in a rut. The first place you always look to for inspiration for clown is YOURSELF: how aspects of your self-concept, personality, behavioral quirks, physicality, and world view would play as a comic persona. By now, I had so many friends and close colleagues who would often make the remark, "Dana, you are so funny!" Problem was, they would say it when I wasn't TRYING TO BE FUNNY at the moment! Well, it just baffled, and quite honestly, often offended me. I mean, whatever these things were, they definitely weren't humorous! These were my ways and means to survive in this unkind world...how DARE you LAUGH at me! Makes you think: how often do we obstinately demand that people take us and our actions seriously, when in truth, we could probably stand to see how absolutely ridiculous we sometimes look from their vantage point?

It wasn't until after I attended the New York Goofs Ultimate Clown School in 2007, that I really began to go back and look at my notes about ADDIE. Attending that 2-week intensive course was not easy for me at all on a number of levels. There were a great many things I just didn't understand, I think there was a bit of a cultural and semantic divide (African American Female Christian Clown), and I left super-discouraged. I very nearly gave up clowning altogether.

It was those little lessons "off-the-clock" with some of the students, and with one of my instructors, Tiffany Riley (the first female clown to headline with THE BIG APPLE CIRCUS, and just a generally cool individual) that kept my heart from resigning completely. She kept me connected when I really wanted to disconnect with all of it. She'd make a quiet point of always noticing how much junk I carried with me to class every day, and leveling direct but very light-hearted cracks about it to me. I mean, if someone needed a cotton swab, a safety pin, a replica of the Hope Diamond...I was the woman to see! When Tiffany would deliver a dry quip, I could always see the fun in her eyes. I never felt humiliated. It was pretty darn funny.

But Hey! There was a reason for my Individual Clown Caravan! During the 2 weeks with NY GOOFS, I was staying in this sweltering hot apartment in New Jersey (the closest and cheapest I could get). It was a half-hour trek by subway each way. I couldn't go back and forth for necessities during the afternoon or evening breaks without being tardy for a lesson, so I just brought my entire life along with me (you had to see me in the turnstiles with my big hot pink rolling bag, trying to not hinder the hostile flow of human traffic and at the same time, trying not to leave a trail of clown socks, makeup, medication, and emergency changes of underwear on the way to Canal Street: priceless. Sometimes, I would even forget to bring the emergency underwear. Even funnier).

COME BACK SOON FOR THE REST OF THE STORY.

Don't let your Summer pass by without getting a chance to meet me. I look forward to bringing my brand of JOY, LAUGHTER, and FUN to your special event!

For more information on my clown performances, contact me online at:

http://www.facebook.com/dana.e.fripp1 (Friend me to see pictures of my clown characters!)

http://definitivewords.blogspot.com/ , or simply email me at deflady@sbcglobal.net .

Your Totally Grace-Dependent...

Dana

DEFinitiveWords: A Life In The Arts...The Art Of A Life.

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Christ-Centered Performing Arts Resources at DEFinitiveWords

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

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