Salomé Mooij is a clown—a performer who’s slowly shuffled toward the clown side of things. A theater maker who gradually drifted toward the clownish.
What pulled her in that direction? A guess, a theory:
The clown is, at heart, a performer. They get on stage with the serious intention of showing something meaningful. But then it all falls apart. Things go wrong. A lot of things. So much goes wrong that they never quite get to deliver their message. That failure—and the way the clown tries to cover it up (and then fails at that, too)—somehow, that’s what moves us. Perhaps that’s the clown’s allure.
A theater performer starts from the same place: a meaningful idea, ready to be shared. It’s laid out step by step. Occasionally, something goes wrong—but it’s swiftly handled.
But what if these mistakes aren’t fixed? What if we let it slip, and stay with the stumble? That’s what Salomé is exploring. She’s been on the clown’s stage, and now she’s inviting the clown onto hers. And she’s going all in. She’s organizing a two-day clown symposium—think world summit, but everyone’s allowed to be ridiculous. Every voice gets a turn. In the lead-up, she’s talking with clowns. Those conversations are happening now, in August.