Yesterday I approached in my entry some profound topics as they had become apparent to me thanks to the way I spent my day.
But I have forgotten to ad the very last bit of the incredible day that yesterday proved to be...it was Saturday night and I couldn't stay home, now could I?
I didn't, and I went to see a show part of the Minneapolis Fringe Festival that this year has been running in the first two weeks of August. For those of you who don't know what it is, a Fringe Festival is a collection of events, mainly indy theatre and music shows, that is usually organised and run on a shoestring, on "the fringe" of more established art circles. Those of you who are familiar with Edinburgh, Scotland- home of the world biggest Fringe Festival - well, you guys will know what I'm talking about.
"Who am I to cut short an eloquent introduction?", I once read somewhere, but time has come to reveal what kind of show I have attended: a one-man clown affair called Flawed Genius, starring excellent British artist Barnaby King that is sometimes described as a "Hugh Grant coming down of a bad mushroom trip."
The performance is a fantastic collection of elements and theatrical techniques that portray with intensity and hilarity the blues of a repressed Englishman.
Alone on stage, Barnaby's main fear, he tells us, is to be alone, left behind by girlfriends and various pet birds as he strives to come to terms with his failures and change what he perceives is a mediocre life.
Prancing around an old prop-filled piano, he involves the audience in a conversation that connects people's energy, transforming the show into a flowing exchange of ideas and jokes.
It was a dark journey through human passions and feelings that touched, with Barnaby's powerful mix of words and body language, issues such as mediocrity and life's hardships, botched love and incomprehension.
The above all reconnects in many ways to state of minds I have myself been through fairly recently, feelings that made me feel uncomfortable with my life, skills and that cast doubts on my very determination to to become a journalist. At some point I was spiraling down an excruciatingly dim tunnel of self-pity with no end in sight.
This is exactly how Flawed Genius begins, with Barnaby moving almost unseen on a pitch-black stage, his face faintly illuminated by search lights he hands out to members of the audience. They help him to find himself, as friends and family helped me dealing with my issues and finding what I thought it was lost, the very image and concept of a person called Dani.
I hope you realise I am speaking from my heart here, and the message I'm trying to put across is that clowns can teach a great deal to the people that are open-minded enough to listen to them.
Outcasts and breaking away from traditional communication channels, their ability to play with the moment offers a unique perspective on things and one's own soul, and give us the chance to "face all directions of [ourself] at the same time and laugh at the beauty of [our] own ridiculousness." [Sue Morrison, director of Flawed Genius]
That's all I have to say, but Stay tuned for more.
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