Send in the Clowns

I felt myself change as the paintbrush slowly grazed my cheek. With each stroke, I transformed into a new person. My face, once a blank canvas, became a work of art—a bizarre, new identity. Pink triangles, turquoise eye shadow, lime green crowns, and pink polka-dot stick-on jewels adorned the top of my forehead all the way down to my chin, with a baby blue nose as the cherry on top. I stared at the stranger in the mirror, and I couldn’t help but smile the widest smile ever.

Through the transition from onlooker to festival performer, I discovered a side of EDC I never knew existed. After six years of attending the festival, I thought I’d seen it all. I was wrong. I was now operating as part of the EDC DNA, and through the adventure I gained a different perspective. Everything felt fresh, everything looked new—just like my first EDC back in 2009 in Los Angeles. Taking one last glance in the mirror in full clown attire before our ride, I had a flashback to the Coliseum, full of Headliners from end zone to end zone. As I sat patiently in the makeup chair, Nick Kane, my mentor for the day, waxed poetically about the essence of clown culture.The colors on my head clashed with the rest of my outfit—an orange crop top, bright pink hot shorts, neon green tights, and a curly green wig to top it all off. Pieced together, I sported more colors than a crayon box. I stood nervously, psyching myself up for what was to be my first-ever clown ride—what professional clowns call their performance-based clowning trips. My look was complete. I was ready for Electric Daisy Carnival.

“What we’re doing is, we’re doing love. We’re doing connectivity. We’re doing community. That’s the heart of where it’s at,” he said with a deep sense of endearment.

Kane is one of the ringleaders of L’Unkles Boink, a silly cast of mischief-makers specializing in wandering shenanigans, short attention-span theatre, dubstep-ercize, and a slew of other wacky performance arts. Today, he and his crew of fitness clowns are set to bring endless laughs to the thousands of Headliners at EDC.

“Through the transition from onlooker to festival performer, I discovered a side of EDC I never knew existed. After six years of attending the festival, I thought I’d seen it all. I was wrong.”

Hearing him speak about the principles of clowning was like watching Steve Jobs deliver your college commencement speech—if you went to clown college. His goofy makeup and costume offset the meaningful life lessons about community, love and freedom of expression. It was the pep talk to top all pep talks.

As we left our clown command post and headed deep into the trenches of EDC, I tried to jump straight into performer mode. Kane advised me that once I’m in the zone, there’s no breaking character. No checking email on my phone. No Facebook statuses. No tweets. No selfies. I had one job: to entertain, and to always remain a clown, no matter what.

I consider myself a confident person, but I’m new to the so-called stage, and EDC was my biggest audience in life by far. I was nervous at first, and my clown crew could tell. I noticed Kane and the gang keeping an eye on me throughout our ride, making sure I wasn’t lost in the hustle and bustle of the massive crowds. I attempted to do my own solo impromptu clown freak-outs à la the Merry Pranksters, when I remembered Kane’s wise words: The power in numbers applies to clowning. “First and foremost, you have to figure out what’s going on with the group as a whole, because you as only one person are only so powerful. You as a group become more powerful.”

Once I accepted the fact that I was now a bona fide clown bandit and felt my brothers’ welcoming embrace, I relinquished every drop of inhibition I had in my body. I was one of them, a part of their clown rave family, so to speak. I knew I was in character. I knew I was in makeup and costume. But I’ve never felt so free and in tune with myself. My inner child was set free to roam with the Headliners.

As we walked through the crowds, the high-fives never stopped. We twerked on fences. We did push-up challenges. We improvised songs and dances. We killed it. At every stop we made, we took countless pictures with ravers. I felt like a star.

That’s when I realized something: It’s not about me. It’s about you, the Headliner. The clowns exist for you, for your laughs, for your hugs, for your love. The main message of EDC encourages freedom: freedom of style, freedom of creativity, freedom of expression, freedom to be yourself. And the clowns are the worthy messengers.

“Our first job is to make sure we’re having a great time. This is EDC, and almost everything is okay here. Feel free to be a kid.”

“Crazy” is the perfect word to describe Kane and his fellow clowns. By going bonkers and cutting loose, they encourage crowds to be themselves and join the fun. Their energy is contagious and is felt throughout EDC, even when the clowns are nowhere near. Via their outlandish appearance and zany, slapstick humor, they relieve any sense of self-consciousness among Headliners. When playing with each other, they invite onlookers to participate in the action and break down the wall between performer and fan. Raver see, raver do. EDC is a judgment-free zone, a place where you can truly be yourself. And the clowns are here to remind you of that important value.“Your job as a clown is to inspire play, and to also create that community of love and inclusiveness,” said Kane. “We are merry-makers. We are fools. We are fun-makers. We show by example that you can go crazy here.”

“Our first job is to make sure we’re having a great time,” said Kane. “If we’re having a great time and people see that, they can let loose, too. People don’t know that freedom unless it’s exercised, and nobody knows where the limits are or how to test them. This is EDC, and almost everything is okay here. Feel free to be a kid.”

There’s no other place in the world like EDC. Sure, it’s home to all the biggest artists in the world; the most intricate stages ever built; the loudest speakers you’ve ever heard; the brightest fireworks you’ve ever seen; and the craziest party you’ll ever attend. But there’s more to EDC than lights and music.

EDC is a living, breathing organism of its own. And the cast of roaming performers is the heart and soul. When the music is blasting, when the lights are blinding, when the DJs are rocking, the performers will always be there to bring you back to earth, back to the experience. It’s their mission to help you disconnect from the loud, and to help you live life in the now.

My clown ride ended hours later, and we headed back to the performer headquarters, where my team and I debriefed. They were ecstatic with the run; I, on the other hand, was exhausted from the demanding physical activity.

I didn’t join any other runs that night; one was enough. But I kept my clown makeup on for the remainder of the night, back in my everyday clothes with my face still brightly painted. Later in the evening in the staff catering area, I ran into my clown brothers, who were on break from a clown ride. They greeted me as one of their own—a member of the family. I was invited to participate in some future clown rides. But I’m hesitant. A part of me wants to keep that memory special, a one-time thing.

Or maybe I’ll just join the circus and reach for my wig once more, and forever.