The yes look: lessons of a clown and improvisation | Márcio Ballas | TEDxFortaleza

Márcio Ballas is a clown, actor, director and playwright, specialized in the language of clowning and improvisational theatre. He lived for three years in Paris, where he studied at the "École Internationale de Théâtre Jacques Lecoq." In Brazil, he was a member of "Doutores da Alegria" for four years. He is one of the directors and creators (with Cesar Gouvêa) of "Jogando no Quintal" (2002), the oldest improvisational show in Brazil, seen by more than 200 thousand people.

To know more about Márcio Ballas and his projects, go to:

Official site of Márcio Ballas: http://marcioballas.com.br/

Casa do Humor: https://www.casadohumor.com.br/

This talk was given at a TEDx event using the TED conference format but independently organized by a local community. Learn more at http://ted.com/tedx

Hi, my name is Márcio Ballas.

I had a show on Band TV
called "É Tudo Improviso,"

I don't know if you saw it.

Later, I went to SBT TV.

I do shows.

And, normally, when I arrive,
when it's my own show,

the audience is very happy -
they clap, they howl, they whistle.

That didn't happen here, right?

(Laughter)

So, since this is my first TEDx,
and I'm very nervous,

I want you to do me a favor:

I'm going to leave, and, when I come back,

you act like you're very happy to see me,

like, "Wow! What a surprise,
he wasn't even on the program!"

"Whistle, take off your clothes,
go crazy, right?"

(Laughter)

I am going to ask you,
my friend, here in front.

What's your name?

You with the headband? Ariadne.

Can you shout, "Beautiful! Beautiful!"
to give things a little life, maybe?

Cool, so let's do it again, eh?

Ladies and gentlemen, with you,
the incredible Márcio Ballas!

(Triumphant music)

(Applause) (Cheers)

Ah! What a delight!

We're together, Ariadne.

There, that's it! Thank you.

There's spontaneity here, right?

(Laughter)

I always like to get to know people,

so I want to know the name
of every one of you here.

(Laughter)

There are many of us,
so I'll get to the point.

I want to see the men.

If you're a man, raise your hand.

The women?

Who's married?

Who has children?

Who is a child?

(Laughter)

Who didn't understand the question,
"I've nothing to do with being a child."

Who's from here in Fortaleza?
Raise your hand.

(A few shouts)

Who's not from Fortaleza?

Any foreigners here?

(English) Is there
any strangers in the night?

(Laughter)

Who takes six months poking around
when you open the refrigerator?

Raise your hand.

Who's taken out a container of ice cream,
opened it, and found beans?

(Laughter)

Who has gone through a big change in life?

When I was 17, I had just entered college,

at ESPM in São Paulo,

and my father died in a car accident.

And, in that moment -
I didn't have another option -

I became the owner of a paper store.

This is what I did for ten years.

I had normal work,
normal hours, normal salary -

normal everything -

until a friend said to me,
"Márcio, let's take a 'clown' course."

I said, "A what course?"

"It's a clown course,
two days, one weekend."

Without even knowing what it was,
I said, "Yes," and I went.

I remember the first time
I put on the red nose,

I closed my eyes, and when I opened them,

I had the impression that the world
around me was completely different.

I was so very impacted and moved by this.

When the course ended,

instead of driving my car straight away,
I strolled zigzag down the road.

I think I wanted that special
feeling to last forever.

The next day was the same.

I was the first to arrive
and the last to leave.

I spent a week smiling at the world.

Nothing changed, and two years later,

to my mother's despair,
I decided to drop everything.

I left the paper store,
scraped together my few savings,

sold my old car, and resolved
to try being a professional clown.

There was no course here in Brazil,
so I took a course in New York.

Next, I discovered a school in Paris,
"L'École Jacques Lecoq," that accepted me,

even with my questionable French.

I went to France.

One day, a friend invited me
to go to an improvisation show.

There were no improvisation
shows in Brazil.

I didn't know what it was.

I accepted and went to see.

When I got there,

I saw a show created on the spot.

The audience threw out topics
and five actors created a scene.

One of the selected topics was mine,

and I watched them make a scene

where one made a proposal
and the other said, "Yes,"

that one asked another who said, "Yes,"
and the entire scene was created live.

Totally improvised, unscripted,

unrehearsed, and unprepared.

I was struck with that,
and it hooked me in a way ...

I spent more time in France,

and I discovered a group called

"Clowns without Borders."

I don't know if you've heard
about "Doctors without Borders"

and "Reporters without Borders,"
but there's also "Clowns without Borders"

who go to places around the world
that are in conflict and war.

Two months later, I left on my first trip.

There were French clowns, English clowns,
and one "Brazuca" clown.

I remember the first time we arrived,

and traveling on the highway,

we passed by army control posts
and destroyed houses.

And we arrived
in a refugee camp in Kosovo.

That arrival had a big impact on me.

I was very, very, afraid:

first, because I was
the newest member of the troupe;

second, because they
were speaking Albanian;

and third, because we were
in the middle of a war.

For the first time,
I could feel "under my skin"

the power that a clown has
to change the world around him or her:

this ability to look at the world,

to say yes, and to play
with whatever situation appears.

The show was incredible,
and the audience loved it.

As soon as it was over, we made a circle
with everyone from the audience,

and we gave each one of them a red nose.

It was such an emotional moment for me

that I had to find a hidden corner to cry.

As we left, they helped us
put away our stuff

and accompanied us to the van.

I remember, as the van pulled away,

they were running alongside,
saying "Goodbye."

When we had gone, we sat in silence;

nobody said anything.

I stayed three years in Paris
before deciding to return to Brazil.

When I arrived in Brazil, I started
to work with "Doutores da Alegria,"

a project where clowns visit hospitals.

There, again, I was in an unfavorable
situation for an artist:

a hospital.

My first day of work with my partner:

I arrived, put on my clothes,

my shoes, my coat, my makeup, my red nose,

and I remembered the first time

that I experienced putting on the nose.

Dressed and made up, I went to work.

It's so interesting that, sometimes,

we think clowns pretend
they're not in a place like that,

or they imagine they are not there.

Much to the contrary, we know very well
what is happening in the hospital.

We are doctors and court jesters,
and our work is serious.

We work with whatever person
we find in front of us -

a child, the family,
the hospital professionals -

whatever person crosses our path.

In the second room that we visited,

we made our little entry,
and the boy hid his face from us.

His mother whispered,
"No. No. Thank you. Thank you."

OK, we got the message.

In hospitals, the clown can be refused,

the only person to whom
the child can say, "No."

We went away, but not before saying
goodbye in Portuguese, "Tchau."

And one more "Tchau."

And one more "Tchau,
tchau, tchau, tchaurau."

And the last "Tchau,"

in slooow ... moooo ... tion,

the kid laughed.

Yes! He laughed and said "tchau" to us!

We went away with a sense
of mission accomplished.

When we got to the end of the hall,

the mother left the room
and walked in our direction.

We were a little scared,
but when she got to us, she began to cry.

She said that for the three days
the boy had been in the hospital,

he had mistreated the doctors and nurses

and didn't want to talk
to his parents or siblings.

After three days, she saw her son smile.

She cried and hugged us,
and she cried and hugged us.

We got a plastic cup to collect her tears,
just in case she was thirsty later,

and this made her laugh.

So we laughed, hugged, cried,
and laughed, hugged, cried again.

We made a toast with that cup of tears,
and we went on our way.

Time passed, and one
of my partners, César Gouvêa, and I

created a show in São Paulo,
called "Playing in the Backyard" -

a combination of clowning
and improvisation

in his backyard for an audience of 40.

This project grew, and we've now done it
for more than 200 thousand people.

We've played in several
places in the world.

As part of the Brazilian team,

we were world improvisation
champions in Colombia.

And my career went on.

In São Paulo, I opened
the "Casa do Humor,"

a school where I started to give classes.

In 20 years, I've given classes
to all kinds of people:

architects, engineers,
electricians, housewives, teachers.

Anytime people gave me feedback,

I was very impressed
with what I received.

And I understood, 20 years later,

that more than a language
and more than a technique,

clowning and improvisation
are ways to see the world.

Ways to look at the world,

and a way of looking at life.

What do clowning
and improvisation have in common?

What they have in common is the yes look.

The yes look.

Audience: Oh!

Márcio Ballas: Again, the yes look.

Audience: Oh!

MB: We're together, I know, Ariadne.

The yes look.

How do I get that yes look?

In the first place, I say yes to myself.

You accept yourself as you are,
and you accept how you are.

Before coming onstage, I went there,
breathed, connected with myself.

I realized, "Wow, I'm nervous,

my heart's racing, my hand's shaking."

I breathed and connected with myself.

After this, I say yes for now.

Yes for here and now.

You are connected to the present moment.

Totally there.

You know how, often in life,
you're doing ten things at the same time,

talking with someone,
but not really paying attention?

That's what I'm talking about.

To be connected with the here and now,
to know all that happens.

To know that there's
a red carpet here in front,

a little television
on this side and a light there.

To have a desperate stopwatch
that keeps counting down:

7:19, 7:18, 7:17 ...

(Laughter)

I need to know everything
that is happening at the present moment.

And lastly, I say yes to playing.

Play, have fun.

I say yes, accept my situation,

and play with it.

This works for every normal person.

So, I want to play a game here,
an example, an exercise.

Can I get a volunteer
to play a game with me?

You, there in front, come here quickly.

A round of applause for our volunteer.

(Applause)

Thank you very much.

Who raised their hand
and said yes? Raise your hand.

Raise your hand if you felt desperate

and didn't raise your hand
when I asked for a volunteer.

Who thought about raising their hand
but didn't have courage? Raise your hand.

Cool.

An interesting thing that happens
when I ask for a volunteer

is what I call "turtle" phenomenon.

The person goes
inside their shell, hides away,

and is very happy
when someone else is picked.

My volunteer. How are you?
Volunteer: I'm great.

MB: What's your name?
Volunteer: Felipe.

MB: What do you do, Felipe?
Felipe: I'm a photographer.

MB: Photographer.

Felipe, we're going to play a game;
for this, I only need you to say yes.

I will request things, you accept.
There's no wrong, there's no right.

You only have to say yes.

You only have to say?
F: Yes.

MB: Have to say?
F: Yes.

MB: He only has to say?
Audience: Yes.

MB: Exactly.

Felipe, you are a photographer?

F: Yes.
MB: Cool.

MB: Ladies and gentlemen,
nice to meet you.

My name is Felipe, and I'm a photographer.

I use glasses because I don't see well,
and because it's a lens

and I like to see the world
through lenses.

A quality of mine that I like
to talk about is that I am ...

F: Er ... fearless.

MB: Fearless. I'm fearless, "Ha!"
When something comes, I "Ha!"

I always "Hu!"

From when I was really little,
I was fearless of everybody, right?

My dream has always been to travel to ...

F: Argentina.
MB: Argentina.

People don't like Argentina,
but (Spanish) I like Argentinians.

(Laughter)

I bought a ticket but couldn't go
by plane, so I went by ...

F: Bus.

MB: Bus! Because I'm so poor.

(Laughter)

So, I caught a bus, and four days later,
I arrived in Argentina.

When I arrived in Argentina, I found ...

F: My teacher
MB: My teacher.

I said, (Spanish) "How are you?"

He said, "E aí, mano, beleza?"
because he was really Brazilian.

I went walking, I was so happy
to be in Argentina.

I came back to the hotel happy,
I opened the door, and I heard this noise:

(Imitates meow-like creak)

Nobody had noticed,
but there was a kitten inside.

I threw the kitten far away ...

and it was gone.

I opened the hotel window ...
(Imitates meow-like creak)

and the kitten ...
get out of here, kitten.

Then, I heard the noise of the wind.

(Imitates wind sound)

I was close to the stadium
and I heard the stadium noise ...

(Audience roars)

including the "Ola" cheer!

Audience: Ola!

MB: That was my day.

I ended by saying a poem
my mother always said,

that started with letter "A".

Say a word with the letter "A".

F: A ...

(Laughter)

F: Ah!

MB: Ah!

I have a bit of a cold,

but I'm happy, and my name is Felipe.

A round of applause.

(Applause)

Thanks. Thank you.

(Applause)

Cool, cool.

Do you get it?

The scene was only created
because Felipe said yes to my proposals,

I said yes to his ideas,
and you said yes to us.

Now I want to request that you -

I left red noses on your chairs -

put the nose in your hand.

Hold the nose in your hand,

and I want you to close
your eyes for a second.

Close your eyes one little second.

I want you to say yes to yourselves,

connect with yourselves,

connect with your body
and your respiration.

Now, with your eyes closed,
I want you to put on the red nose.

Put on the disguise,

the smallest disguise in the world.

Don't open your eyes yet.

I'm going to count three, two, one,
you open your eyes!

Three ...

Two ...

One ...

Open your eyes and look
at the universe around you,

look at the little things,

look at the people at your side,
look into their eyes.

Like that.

Now, I want you to come back.

Look over here again.

I want to share with you
a dream that I had.

Imagine that one day
you wake up and everybody's a clown.

Everybody's a clown.

You go out of your house
and everybody on the street is a clown.

The guy at the bakery,
the bus driver, the ticket collector.

You get to your work,
the receptionist's a clown,

the girl who serves coffee.

All of your colleagues, your boss ...
the CEO of the business is a clown.

(Laughter)

You go back home,
and the taxi driver's a clown,

the building custodian's a clown.

In the elevator, three neighbors
you never cross paths with or see

are clowns.

You open the door of your house,
and your beautiful wife is a clown.

You hug her.

Then you see your kids.

And your kids are not clowns.

They're not clowns.

Do you know why?

Because they're clowns already.

They're clowns.

The truth is we're all clowns.

We're all improvisers in life.

We were all born with this look.

So, how can we bring
this look back into our lives?

Thank you very much.

(Applause) (Cheers)

Woman: Beautiful!

Woman: Beautiful!

Audience: Beautiful!

(Cheers)