Life’s A…
Circus
The art of clowning is much more than slapstick
By DARCIE ZUDELL | Photos by MORGAN CLARK | DESIGN BY ABBY BURNS
As a kid, Ohio University alum Dez Brandes wanted to be a mime. However, not many colleges offer such a program, so Brandes shifted their focus to filmmaking. They attended OHIO-In-LA, a semester-long program that exposes students to life working in media and creative fields in Hollywood. By the end of the semester, Brandes was not entirely sold on the film industry but, instead, left with an intense creative calling that consumed much of their final semester at OU: Brandes would become a clown.
In Los Angeles, they met a group of friendly clowns who welcomed them into their circle, inviting them to comedy shows and karaoke nights. Notably, "nobody was dressed up like a clown with makeup or a nose," Brandes says. Instead, being a clown was about embracing the most authentic aspects of themselves and creating genuine connections with others.
Performing as a clown gave Brandes something they had longed for in filmmaking: connection with an audience.
“With a film, you make the thing, you finish it, you put it on a screen, and it's perfect, or it's as perfect as you can get it,” Brandes says. “I think with live performances, you get to include the audience more. But even that has its limitations, and I feel like with clowning, you get to break down everything standing in the way of the audience and the production, and the audience becomes part of the production.”
Brandes returned to campus and decided to showcase their newfound love of clowning
They started with a second-hand clown suit from Little Wing Relief, paired with bold red makeup to exaggerate their lips and black circles outlining their eyes that were filled in with blue.
They began clowning by simply attending parties and other social outings in their clown makeup and suit, often bringing along toys like Flarp putty. In the clown getup, Brandes felt empowered to “just be stupid all night.”
Brandes soon became fascinated by bouffon — the French word for "jester," – which is also a style of performance centered on mimicry, satire and the grotesque. Popularized by Jacques Lecoq in the 1960s, bouffon pokes fun at the absurdities of power structures, using physicality and humor to exaggerate social norms and subvert authority.
Lecoq was a French actor and director who dedicated much of his time to mentoring young performers at L'École Internationale de Théâtre Jacques Lecoq, a school of physical theatre located in Paris. Lecoq was known for his teaching style, which encouraged actors to "play" and fully engage with audiences — an approach that was incredibly innovative for the theater landscape at the time.
Lecoq once described the distinction between the clown and the bouffon as, "The audience laughs at the clown and the bouffon laughs at the audience."
In February of 2024, Brandes formed the Athens Clown Collective after hosting their first clown comedy workshop. The Athens Clown Collective is an inclusive group open to "any and everyone" who wants to participate in and lead comedy workshops, receive feedback, create new routines and collaborate on producing shows together.
“It seemed like clowning was a way to explore comedy in a new way outside of the rules of sketch and improv that felt more freeing,” Brandes says. “I thought that'd be a really great thing to introduce to the community in Athens.”
Through the Athens Clown Collective, Brandes began hosting weekly workshops called the “Laugh Lab.” These workshops began as a way for comics and clowns alike to perform new routines and receive feedback. Participants would often play games that emphasized responding to an audience and laughter.
Brandes began each workshop with a guided meditation, to encourage its participants to enter a “childlike state” and to imagine seeing and interacting with the world for the first time.
This spiritual approach to clowning was influenced by Brandes’ time in L.A. where they attended Clown Church. Though telling their roommates and family they attended “clown church” made them worry Brandes had joined a cult, it was actually more of a workshop guided by professional clown Jet Eveleth. The workshop encouraged the use of play and laughter as a way of release.
The Athens Clown Collective produced its first showcase at Donkey Coffee on April 6, 2024. Although they did not have many performers, the group put on a hilarious and memorable show. They promoted the event through posters and social media posts that invited the audience to “come unprepared” and be ready for “the wildest comedy you’ll see all year.”
Brandes says they believe in “free accessible clowning,” so all of the workshops and shows produced by the Athens Clown Collective would have no admission fees.
Along with hosting workshops, Brandes also performs as their signature clown character, Safety Pin.
When Brandes gets ready as Safety Pin, their signature look is a clash of black and white patterns, with oddly placed lumps and humps created from bundled-up laundry. The ensemble includes a frilly, classic clown collar with ruffles that frame their face, which is painted white with bold, sharp lines in black that define their eyes. Atop their head sits a knit, black-and-white striped pointy hat, complete with antennae-like protrusions.
“I view Safety Pin as this creature from another world who is getting up on a stage to laugh at how weird everybody looks,” Brandes says. “I think the comedy comes from the fact that Safety Pin is the one that looks weird to a ‘normal person.’”
Clowning is much more than just performing, although the line can become heavily blurred for those who view their everyday interactions as a performance.
Darian Knapp, an OU alum, says becoming a clown was a natural form of rebellion against traditional gender roles and expressions.
Being called harsh names like “freak” growing up, not just by others but also by family members, for how they presented attracted them to art and clothing that many would consider “weird” or “kitschy.”
They often felt forced to perform a gender that was inauthentic to how they truly felt.
“Clowns are funny – it's literally their thing, and it's always such a high energy and high effort performance of something” Knapp says. “I really equated that to the way that presenting gender was. Everyone forgets that everyone performs for each other. That's just the way that people relate.”
When Knapp was a photography and integrated media student, their first major project was called “The Circus,” which featured self-portraits of Knapp in clown makeup. Additionally, Knapp’s senior thesis show, titled “It’s All Just Part of the Show,” showcased more clown self-portraits along with original zines and collages that explored the intersection of performance art and gender expression.
Their art and photography are largely inspired by queer surrealist artists Claude Cahun and Marcel Moore. Photographs taken by Cahun and Moore delved into the uncharted territory of gender queerness and expression, with much of their work featuring Cahun embodying various characters, often showcasing both feminine and masculine attributes. While the concept of androgyny was largely avoided at the time, Cahun leaned into it, as exemplified in the famous self-portrait “I am in training, don't kiss me,” which shows Cahun wearing makeup and sporting short hair.
Knapp says when people belittle others’ expressions or identities, it can feel isolating. However, they have found humor in the absurdity of gender roles and in the audacity of those who police and continue to uphold them.
“You have to laugh at it at a certain point,” Knapp says. “I think that's just the attitude you have to have sometimes. You work toward that, and you do what you can, but also to yourself, sometimes you just have to find a little bit of humor in it.”
Although Knapp does not perform as a clown in the traditional sense, they are known to frequent local bars and go on picnic dates in clown makeup and clown-inspired clothing. They decided to start bringing horns, balloons and other “silly things” to engage with people who might be startled by their look. Knapp enjoys interacting with those they encounter and encourages them to join in on the fun.
“You get the best interactions that way, too,” Knapp says. “It's all very natural… but in a very over-the-top way that I draw a lot of joy from.”
Current students at OU have seen the clown renaissance in Athens and decided to join in on the spectacle.
Ruby Culp, a second-year drawing and painting student, loves to go uptown with her best friend Kyrah Porter, a second-year student, both dressed in clown makeup and eclectic outfits.
Culp and Porter agree that being able to fully control their appearance with striking makeup, which almost makes them unrecognizable, oddly boosts their confidence.
“You know, you’re with your friends, and you’re like, ‘Oh, that's a bad picture, don't post it,’ or [you] feel self-conscious,” Culp says. “When I have makeup on – not normal foundation – the clown makeup, I'm just like, ‘Oh my gosh, yes.’ I always feel myself and I feel great.”
Similar to how people feel on Halloween, something about dressing up and creating a spectacle brings Culp and Porter confidence. However, people typically dress up as others on Halloween, which is not quite the case for Culp when wearing clown makeup.
“You're not pretending to be something you’re not,” Culp says. “You're shifting yourself into another version. It's really cool. We still like to incorporate our own personalities in it.”
Porter has always had a signature look, often sporting a drawn-on star between her eyes. Despite her bold look, she can understand why others might feel shy about stepping out in adventurous makeup.
Culp and Porter say they feel the most insecure when wearing their clown makeup on a regular night out. Porter recommends that people wanting to experiment with alternative makeup start by attending a themed event or party, where the occasion provides an excuse to wear bold makeup, making them feel less self-conscious.
“If you go to an 80s night or one of the raves around here, then you almost have an excuse to do it,” Porter says. “You can have that social armor because it's for something.”
Culp also emphasizes that exploring makeup – whether clown-inspired or gothic – is an enjoyable way to experiment, even if she is not going anywhere.
Growing up, Culp says she had never felt or presented as overly feminine until recently. Once she embraced that expression, she began enjoying playing with makeup, taking pictures and then simply removing it afterward.
She views the process of getting ready as a clown as a “mini art project,” given how much time it takes in both preparation and execution. Often, Culp sketches the makeup on paper before applying it to her face and even searches Pinterest for inspiration.
As the clown community in Athens continues to grow, it is clear that clowning is more than just a slapstick — it is an invitation to embrace individuality. Whether through the lens of comedy, gender expression or empowerment, the art of clowning is a method for participants to discover new ways to laugh, play and be seen.
As Brandes puts it, “The audience becomes part of the production”— and in clowning, everyone is invited to join the show.
Join the show! Learn more about comedic acting and improv by attending an Athens Comedy Collective workshop (pg. 8). They take place every Sunday from 2 p.m. to 4 p.m. at Central Venue. b