The Typewriter Rodeo Clown

Typewriter Rodeo Clown

Every once in a while the stars align in all the right ways to draw me into another loosely art based performance. this is the story of how the Typewriter Rodeo Clown was born.

With the better part of the ruminating our the current state of shit the world is mired in by painting a bunch of red, white and blue clad rodeo clowns getting chased by bulls, I headed down to Austin, Texas for a quick break and to catch up with a bunch of great friends.

As it turned out, the opportunity arose to put on a loose art performance which combines my visual art, vague performance skills, and propensity to shoot my mouth off in a character derived from the likes of Morton Downey Jr and Wally George.

Enter The Typewriter Rodeo Clown

Armed with a series of silkscreen prints fresh out of my studio and an IBM Selectric typewriter lent to mye by a friend, I topped off my western wear outfit with a cowboy hat and some American flags, complete with their UPC codes still stuck all over those little plasticy made in China patriotic tchotchkes.

My performance began with a loud declarative statement that I was hailing from Mizz-ur-ah, and I called out all those Austonians in attendance for being writers with their fancy trains of thought.

Then the room fell silent as I put my head down on the typewriter. I drew up the strength to compose a poem on demand. My little book of notes contained writing prompts selected from Billy Joel songs.

Soon, the silence was broken by the boisterous percussive bangs of my fingers hitting the keyboard. These loud thuds coalesced into words and phrases and weird, vaguely complete thoughts onto the back of the silkscreen print. The dissonance soon created a poem. When it was finished, as the Typewriter Rodeo Clown, I would feverishly turn the knob until the poem was released. The crowd would wait in anticipation of what would happen next. I wiped my brow, and in a loud, guttural voice, would read the newest poem born into the room.

Typewriter Rodeo Clown Poetry

The crowd would laugh, release some ‘ahhhs’ or release a disconnected groan. On more mediocre efforts, the snaps of many fingers met my efforts halfway.

At the end of each debut reading, the poem was signed and given to a member of the audience. As the night went by, The poems and the Lone Start flowed. Laughter and mild discomfort filled the air. A good time was had by all.

Keep an eye out for future appearances by the Typewriter Rodeo Clown.