Clown Elf Lyons explains why it's so important to be silly

Photography by Karla Gowlett

Get silly and play more. We don’t do it enough and the world would be better if we did. When directing other artists, I remind them to never underestimate the power of silliness. Being playful and silly with an audience is still a surprisingly political statement. It can be subversive and both unite and agitate audiences dependent on who is being silly.

As I tour, I am increasingly fascinated by how many people underestimate the importance of play, without realising how often they do it in their daily lives. ‘To play’ makes many people think of childishness, frivolity, and wasting time. We don’t see it as the essential role it assumes within society – connecting us together and using creativity to problem solve. Through play, our humanity is brought to the fore. When we were little, play stimulated our joy in learning to survive. It wasn’t just because we had to, but we wanted to because living felt fun.

But many people associate silliness with negativity, with feebleness and failure. Many adults carry great shame and have harrowing memories of being told by parents or teachers to: “Stop doing that,” “Put that down,” “Girls don’t do that,” “You are embarrassing me,” or “No-one can take you seriously.” All of which has aided the ever-growing ruinous question, “Am I funny?” or the horrid belief, “I am not funny.”

Of course, you are. Sometimes unintentionally and sometimes with considered thought. Both are brilliant. Some of us have not had the time to realise how funny we can be. Or we haven’t had the chance to enjoy the feeling of being funny, because we are too busy fighting against ableism, racism, sexism, discrimination and a myriad of other concerns.

Everyone has the right to play, everyone has the right to relearn the beauty of laughing with themselves and with others. The world would be better if we played more. In a different country, even if two children do not speak the same language, they can understand the basic game of passing a ball back and forth. A complicité is formed. Even though one could throw the ball elsewhere or aim to harm, they typically continue to pass the ball so the other can catch it, because we are an inherently kind species. We want people to be part of the game. Think of the Christmas Truce in 1914 when the English and German soldiers played football.

To play throughout history has always been a rebellious act of defiance, above all when you choose to play as an adult. Once an adult, playfulness is judged as improper, from the church suppressing the Feast of Fools, the Puritans and their dislike of frivolity, to the Victorians and their dislike of basically everything.

Playfulness – especially when linked to critiquing or satirising the status quo – or challenging people’s perceptions of social roles (from women or marginalised groups) has often risked social ostracism.

Even now in 2024 at comedy gigs and showcases, silliness is shocking, particularly when witnessed in women or anyone who is not ‘factory settings’ – i.e., white, cis, and male. It is still rebellious. If you disagree, look at club gig programming and comedy night line-ups throughout the UK and the evident fear of programming “alternative” acts. Clowning is a renegade way for many individuals, especially women, to challenge what many think our space on stage and in a room should look like.

Many are still judgmental of clowning as an art form. They think it is frivolous and puerile or ‘low brow’. In my opinion, it is looked down on because it refuses to ostracise based on education or class. When something unites everyone, it terrifies those who want to keep the power and celebrate their elitism. Thus, clowns must be treasured at all costs. They are a comedy democracy. Clowns exist and get their joy from celebrating being with people. The clown is kind. They don't punch up or down. They tickle, but they shouldn’t pinch.

For me, Clowning changed what it meant to exist as a woman on stage. It seemed to go against everything I had been told to be, how to hold myself and what to talk about. I often felt an obligation to reveal things about myself I didn’t want to reveal, tell the audiences personal things and traumas I didn’t want to tell, in order to prove my right to be there. Because as a woman, I had to prove my validity first before delivering the material I wanted to talk about. Now, I have let go. I am going to be silly. I want to play and I want you to join me.

As Carl Jung said, “The creation of something new is not accomplished by the intellect but by the play instinct.” So, let’s send in the clowns.

Elf Lyons’ new show, Horses, is at the Pleasance Courtyard, 9.20pm, 31 July to 26 August. https://tickets.edfringe.com/whats-on/elf-lyons-horses