Ella the Great performs one strawberry at a time
Clown, circus performer and drag king Ella the Great dreams by trees, meditates on props and revels in surprise.
On a show day I wake up at 11am if I have anything to do with it. That feels like a good time - it's still morning technically. But lately, I've been waking up at seven o'clock because I’ve been visited by a wasp. I think it’s hunting for somewhere to make a nest or carrying a message .
I usually have a big breakfast. Porridge with some berries, nuts, and honey. I like fresh fruit. I tend to like to eat fresh things before a show. The energy is more sustainable.
On a best day I’ve already prepared my props the day before. On a rushed day, there's always one particular thing I need, that I’ll fixate on. It might be an idea I've had and I need to find that one thing before I can do anything else. Last time it was a music stand for a double act: me and the music stand.
I have a suitcase with various pockets with things like safety pins, hair grips, makeup and all the accessories that I might need to get ready. They're all already hiding in the pockets. I haven't kept this up recently, but, if I’m in my high discipline, full preparation mode then I would charge my props under a full moon. I charge all the props and meditate on the energy that I’m bringing to that show. Then I’ll pack all the props beautifully in their pockets. I bless them all, close the suitcase and set aside. After that I have a coffee if it's that kind of occasion.
Once I have all of my things packed, then, if I have time, I like to go out with them and make a leisurely journey towards the venue. I've got a few benches near familiar trees where I like to sit and dream. Dreaming is a really important part for me. I visit these spots, say hello and sit down. Then I visualise the venue where I’m going to perform. It's important for me to have seen a picture of the venue first or visit it beforehand. That means I can imagine it happening so it sort of exists here and there, at the venue and also in my mind.
When you look up in London, there's more expansive space. It's the space I’m looking for. I look up at the trees and follow one of the branches to the very tip, focusing in on the leaves. Then I listen as far as I can hear. It’s about grounding and becoming really present. I like to think about my work more as sharing rather than performing, so I think about what the energy is that I want to bring to the show that day.
Just before a show I like to have a strawberry. It’s a nice ritual, one strawberry, just to have a nice taste in the mouth when you're out there. If not strawberries, blueberries will do or even a mixed fruit salad.
The moment before I go on I think to myself “who will I meet?” There's an optimism there. In that moment everybody wants the same thing: they all want it to go well. So it's really nice to reflect on that, and go okay, we all want the same thing. I think that's my favourite moment. The anticipation of the first few seconds.
I like to start a performance with something completely new. Maybe an idea I’ve had in the back of my mind, which I want to see how it will play out in real life. I’ll usually do that first. For example I had this thing with a plastic bag, that’s turned into a whole other act now. But at first, all I wanted was to see what would happen if I just went on stage with a plastic bag.
When I’m performing as Babushka, my first cabaret clown, I have three versions of the same track that I’ll perform to. One has a pause in it, one speeds up and in the third something else happens. I’ve labelled them all with the same name and I send one at random to the venue. You don’t know which one is going to be played so you’re kept on your toes. It keeps it alive.
I was originally going to call myself Cleo Earlybird because it's sort of an inside joke - I like to take time into my own hands. But then my friend was like, no, that doesn't suit you at all. Because at that time, I was also in my audacious era. So they were like, you need something with more grandeur. If you hold yourself in such high esteem, then there's further to fall. I like to play high status and low status in one character, with full integrity.
If possible, I’ll take the time to pack back up again after the show. Make sure everything's in its right place before I leave. Usually it means I'm the last person in the dressing room. The beard is the last thing. I enjoy it. It's my happy place. So I’ll take my time taking it off. The beard for me is like a really small mask. Or a clown’s red nose. It’s me, or an element of me, a characteristic.
If my friends have come to the show I might have a drink with them afterwards. Or if I didn’t have a drink at the venue then I tend to go and dream by the river to calm down. I might have one drink by the river on my own, something like Appletiser, or something like a fizzy water for the bubbles and the crispness. It doesn't have to be beer all the time. Even a Just Juice Apple goes a long way. I tend to pack one of those with me just in case.
When I’m by the river I’ll have a little reflection on how the show went. I do have an inner critic, but I like to leave it a bit before I focus on those thoughts. You want to congratulate yourself first and take the celebration. Then I like to leave it maybe a day, two days, for the inner critic to turn up. If it's still got things to say after that, then it's something I should probably take note of.
Once I get home - I need to get out of this habit - I usually would or could stay up till quite late. I start thinking to myself, oh, there are some things I need to do, and I could do it now! I love the stillness and clarity of thought at that time.
Catch Ella the Great in Pomp and Cirque-umstance No 3.1 on 16 July 2024, as part of the London Clown Festival.
We saw what you did in the dark:
19/04/24. Mrs Lakeside's School Night, VFDalston
“Now what do we say to the acts?” THANK YOU! “And what do we do when we get home?” FOLLOW THEM ON SOCIAL MEDIA!
Sunday is a school night. It’s the night you pack your bag, lay out your uniform and dread double maths in the morning. But help comes in the form of Mrs Lakeside (aka John Tothill) who invited four acts to VFDalston to perform for her Year 3 class (the audience), “but only,” she tells us sternly, “if you are very well behaved!”.
To be chastised at the end of the week is a balm to soothe the Sunday Scaries. The audience deliver themselves up to the authority of Mrs Lakeside, eager to please. As soon as she strides on stage and asks for quiet, the audience sit up a little straighter and drone back in that familiar zombie-like school tone to the imperious questioning of their temporary leader.
The night opened with Jin Hao Li and his signature quiet, erratic style, with new material thrown in, paired with a louder, more animated delivery. Ayoade Bambgoye threw herself into the spirit of the night, creating a powerpoint presentation on dogs, white supremacy and Stoke Newington. She was the only act to stick to time, a shame, as we wanted more of her cheery, cutting reads of her audience (and you can at this week’s Slay24.) Bella Hull meanwhile felt like that cool girl at school who inexplicably befriends you and uses this persona to explore her own vulnerabilities with an acid sharpness. Paddy Young completed the night, testing out new material, and took the moments when he lost the audience with good humour: in general Year 3 warmed to Young’s jokes on vulnerable masculinity, less so on XL Bullies.
The highlight of the night was hymn practice, led by Mrs Lakeside between sets. Tothill tapped into something deeper here: it’s eminently silly and joyful, yes, but there’s also an element of camaraderie and conditioning to group singing that’s hard to separate from reason. We joined the night as audience members but we left the night a class.
People to follow: Ayoade Bambgoye, Bella Hull, Jin Hao Li, John Tothill, Paddy Young