In 2015, the artist Ugo Rondinone put on an exhibit at Shanghai’s Rockbund Art Museum called Breathe, Walk, Die. The concept seemed simple, but the impact of the experience was profound.

The space inside the museum was mostly empty, save for the 40 or so “actors” who sat throughout the building dressed as clowns. As with any other art exhibit, visitors quietly shuffled from piece to piece (or in this case clown to clown). They took drawn out looks at the “object”, commenting to their companions about what it could all mean. Perhaps the exhibit was the artist pulling a prank?

There was something chillingly different about this experience because you weren’t really looking at art. Or rather, you were awkwardly aware that underneath those clown masks sat living, breathing people. None of the actors talked back or interacted with visitors. Some had clearly fallen asleep, while others stared straight into your eyes.

Spacing became uncomfortable with the “piece”. You wondered am I standing too close or too far away? Perhaps too far for an object, but too close for a person. Children visiting the exhibit tried to get a reaction from the clowns, while the adults were politely impassive.

Part of the mental trickery of Rondinone’s exhibit was that the people dressed as clowns weren’t allowed to talk and the viewer was not seeing their true faces, but a mask. When you can’t see a face and you don’t hear a voice, it doesn’t necessarily make the person seem like an object. They don’t magically morph into a lamp or a coffee table.

But perhaps having no voice moves them one step closer to total objectification, where they are defined by their relation to us and our perception of them. Interactions are no longer an exchange between equals. They’re not totally an object, but not fully human. It’s not objectification, it’s clownification.

And clownification is projection plus psychic distance.

***

You never really know what’s behind a person’s mask and projection happens when you fill in the blanks about someone with assumptions and stereotypes. Our reasons for clownifying others are complex and can range from benign to insidious.

On the more harmless end of the spectrum, clownifying can be lazy mental processing. We filter information all day long, processing the world through our own lens. Though expedient, this can result in us not really seeing the people we’re interacting with.

But on the more malevolent end of the spectrum, we clownify people when what they are is too disruptive to our belief systems. The mind with its endless defense mechanisms will discount the person by projecting them as absurd or frightening.

Rondinone’s piece was aptly named Breathe, Walk, Die for it warns viewers of the dangers of mental filtering. It’s a reminder to not always be subconsciously operating from our lizard brain with its fight or flight binary. Lizards breathe and walk and die fine enough, but I think most of us would chose the far more complex human experience.

Discomfort is often the price of connection with others and it is truly uncomfortable to gaze into the face of a clown. You never know what you may see: a sleepy clown, a sad clown, maybe even an angry clown.

Or you may see a mirror. For when you look at their face paint, red noses and colorful hair, what you are really seeing is your own biases and projections.

Article about the exhibit

https://news.artnet.com/exhibitions/the-inner-happiness-of-ugo-rondinones-performing-clowns-148452