Philadelphia’s clown community has found its home at a West Philly yoga studio

When was the last time you indulged your inner child and truly played? What about the last time you let yourself try and fail, and still laughed? Danielle Levsky, a Philadelphia clown and yoga educator, invites you to do just that.

Among various other clown-adjacent programming at Studio 34 in West Philly, Levsky has been hosting a weekly class titled Fool’s Yoga. The class, which runs through the end of March, is made up of four parts: gentle vinyasa flow, meditation, laughter yoga, and clown exercises.

There’s no need to dress in costume or be at an advanced yoga level; these Thursday classes are open to anyone interested in, well, clowning around.

“Fool’s Yoga is a practice where you get to play and stretch,” Levsky said. “The goal is just to have fun.”

Levsky said that it’s common for participants to start out feeling uncomfortable, because they’re being asked to do things like forced laughter or fantasizing about playing. But once they sit with it, Levsky says, they realize they haven’t had that much true fun in a while. Maybe not even since they were a child.

Morgan Andrews, who runs Studio 34’s arts programming, was immediately supportive of Levsky’s idea for the class.

“It’s a yoga class, so it fits in, but it offers some things that other classes might not offer,” Andrews said, such as the unique breathwork exercises in laughter yoga.

“A lot of the time, yoga classes expect you to dig deep and connect with yourself. In this one, you do that, but you also get to connect with other people.”

One of the most special things about these classes, Andrews added, is that they help people to understand that yoga doesn’t always have to be a “super serious practice.”

In their classes, Levsky offers the opportunity to see a different side of the ancient practice.

During a late February class, Levksy began the session by encouraging folks to tell a story about a time when everything went wrong, but it still ended up being a cherished memory. The class then moved onto mimicry exercises, complete with silly noises, poses, and walks. Participants danced to pop music and laughed until they had tears in their eyes.

Moments of quiet and stillness allowed guests to enter their “land of why not?” where they can do and play with anything they want, just as long as they visualize and believe it.

Andrews says there are people who come every week and don’t want to leave. Even if the class runs over time, folks are happy to stay in their laughter-fueled meditative state.

Like everything, he said, it isn’t for everybody. “Some people want a more relaxing and soothing class, but the ones who get it do get it.”

Both Levsky and Andrews are acutely aware of how clowns have been portrayed in popular culture. Many people have a phobia of clowns, making it difficult for them to open up and understand the storied past of the practice.

What interests Levsky more than clowns like Pennywise and Ronald McDonald is the long history of fools and jesters that have existed across time.

“You can define a clown in a million different ways, but for me, a clown is a mirror back into you, back into the world, back into what is happening all around us,” Levsky said. “A clown gives you the opportunity to witness somebody in their fullness, in their entirety. A clown is the most vulnerable being you’ll encounter, and it’ll maybe allow you to be more vulnerable too.”

Andrews agrees that there is more to clowns than what we see on TV, adding that Philly’s clown community is simply trying to invite anyone interested into their practice.

“Fifty years ago, there were no yoga studios,” he said. “Practicing yoga was a very esoteric, fringe thing. Gradually, through practice, it has become something that’s much more mainstream. Millions of people practice yoga. And I see what Danielle and other clown folks are doing [at Studio 34]. They’re trying to find some kind of home where a clowning practice can thrive.”

Levsky got involved in the practice through journalism, when they were reporting on Chicago’s circus scene for Scapi Magazine. Knowing nothing about what it meant to be a clown, Levsky decided to immerse themself in the culture to write the best story possible. Shortly after, they knew they wanted to stick with it.

They had already been practicing yoga and began learning clown from a Clown School instructor. Finding themself leaning heavily on clown and yoga during the 2020 COVID-19 lockdown, the idea for Fool’s Yoga was born.

“Clown is one of the most important aspects of my life because it allows me a framework to engage with everything that I encounter,” Levsky said. “When I approach it through the lens of clown, I can make it curious and playful and inquisitive rather than defensive.”

Fool’s Yoga is not the only way Levsky brings Philly’s clown and clown-curious community together at Studio 34. Their calendar is stacked with other events like Clowning for Collective Healing — which is an evening of discussion and exploration around clowning — and Clown Slam, a night of “clown experiments” co-organized by Levsky, who often also hosts and performs there.

According to Andrews, Clown Slam is the studio’s best-attended regular arts event. The next Clown Slam is Feb. 27; tickets can be purchased at studio34yoga.com/art-events.

Like in non-clown-led yoga classes, a Fool’s Yoga class ends calmly, in a seated or lying flat position.

Participants are encouraged to close their eyes, find inner peace, and take their time making their way back to their bodies.

If you were to look in through the window, you might assume this class was like the others.

But it closes with a mantra different from those heard in other yoga classes, one that is uniquely Levsky:

“The fool in me sees the fool in you.”