Fall 2025 • By EBB
Clown, Heal Thyself

Blowing Bubbles and the Holiness of Failure

Sixteen years following the Great Mollusk Incident of 2006, I am at an arts residency at Mt. Saviour, an active Benedictine monastery and farm in Elmira, New York. I find myself there, weary from graduate school and unsure of how I feel about organized religion. The book Discovering the Clown by Christopher Bayes lies in my suitcase. I tell the group of artists there, without thinking too hard, that I am interested in exploring clowning and shame. They nod approvingly, which surprises me. I read Bayes’ book and feel agog at sentences like,“The clown does not live in the clever or desperate muscles. It lives in your simple, soft, little hopeful lemon-headed vulnerability.” Somehow, the work of my life feels distilled into this short tome.

I present a clown exercise to them that Christopher Bayes calls “The Greatest Trick in the World”, wherein your clown demonstrates a trick that is actually quite hard for them to do, and that they will likely fail at. I have recently learned that at the ripe old age of 28, I am unable to blow bubbles. I either forgot or never really learned. Either way, I decide this is a suitable challenge for my inner clown. I present the pink bottle of bubbles to the artists and instinctively bring the wand to Brother Bruno in the audience. I hold it up to him so he can try. I notice bubble solution dripping onto his robes. He blows with no success, and I laugh.

I think back on this moment with Brother Bruno, and the story of the bleeding woman comes to my mind: the one who grasps onto Jesus’ robes, hardly daring to hope he would turn around. If I could only touch God, I would be healed. I spilled my humanity onto Christ, and not only did he turn, but he wanted to join me in my game.︎



—Emma Brown Baker, Theater, Orein ‘23
(Originally published in full at Mockingbird. Photo by Corrie Aune)

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