Paul Hoosen pioneered therapeutic clowning to ease suffering in hospitals. After studying mime in Paris under Marcel Marceau, he performed with a street troupe and for Salvador Dali. In the 1970s, he began using clowning in Canadian hospitals. Through gentle interactions, props like bubbles, and building relationships, he helps reduce fear and loneliness for patients. Considered a leader in the field, Hoosen teaches others and continues his work, showing therapeutic clowning is a valuable healing tool.

1. LOUISE LOIK
Editor
Paul Hoosen stumbled
along a career path that few
have ever chosen. Between
university and retirement,
Hoosen chose to be of ser-
vice to the sick and dying;
not as a traditional medical
caregiver, but instead, he
pioneered a healing art
called Therapeutic Clown-
ing.
Hoosen does indeed stum-
ble, but it is intentional,
just as every look, every
motion, every trick he has
up his sleeve is calculated
and strategic. Hoosen has
a depth and breadth of
knowledge about body lan-
guage and psychology that
only comes from decades
of intensive fieldwork.
Clowning, for therapeutic
purposes, is no laughing
matter.
He explains that he is not
a North American style
clown, or a “scare clown”,
as he calls “the crazy haired
clowns” common in Cana-
da. “I’m modeled on Euro-
pean clowns, more like the
ones in Cirque du Soleil.“
His main character wears
a doctor’s coat, oversized
shoes an oversized red
nose and a hat. While this
character is not silent, he
uses props and tricks that
incorporate techniques that
he learned from the master
of mime, Marcel Marceau.
Hoosen, the son of aca-
demics, decided after a year
of university that he wasn’t
cut out to walk a straight
and narrow path. It was
the “era of self-expression,
social issues and big the-
atre.” He went travelling
into Europe and Africa and
came back to
BC to work in the techni-
cal side of theatrical pro-
ductions. Along the way,
he audited a mime class,
discovered his talent for
mime applied to study un-
der Marcel Marceau in Par-
is. To his surprise, he was
accepted. The undergrad
left university and took
off to Paris where he met
other like- minded peo-
ple. They formed a troupe
of six street performers
that included mime, fire
breathing, a slack rope
performance and various
theatrics.
The troupe worked hard,
moving around the city to
what would become their
designated locations. “We
would start at 9 a.m. and
work til 2 or 3 a.m. doing
10 shows a day.“
While the troupe was at
one of their usual locations,
a space they shared with
the famous tight-rope walk-
er Philippe Petit who later
went on to walk between
the Twin Towers, Salvador
Dali approached the ring-
master. Dali, a celebrated
artist, was
living in Le Meurice Ho-
tel, a 19th century palace
that was now a posh hotel
for select clientele. Dali
approached the troupe,
wishing to hire them for a
private performance in the
hotel, specifically, in his
suite.
The manager heard about
the arrangement and
became agitated at the
idea of a bunch of buskers
trooping into the luxury
hotel. Part of the problem
was that they weren’t just
jugglers and mimes who
were living hand-to-mouth,
the troupe included two
fire-breathers who obsti-
nately insisted that they be
allowed to perform inside
the hotel. When the fire-
breathers agreed to blow
fire out the tall narrow
windows above the gardens
of the Tuilleries, the man-
ager allowed the group to
enter. “Salvador Dali was
really into mobiles, and he
had mobiles hanging all
over the room,” says Hoos-
en. “He also had a life-sized
stuffed camel in the room.”
Hoosen says that in a way,
the troupe and the artist
were of like minds; both
were pushing artistic and
cultural boundaries.
The room was cleared, fur-
niture pushed aside, with
seating for thirty of Dali’s
friends. On the stage was
one thing; a small, heavy
table, with a phone that
had possibly been forgotten
during preparations.
The performance kicked
off and the energy grew
with each act until the
fire-breathers took to the
stage. Caught up in the
moment, they ignored
their agreement to blow
fire out the window. They
knew precisely how far the
flames would travel and
sent a burst of flames into
the room, blackening the
ceiling with smoke. “The
manager was apoplectic but
Dali just gave the manag-
er a look that said “don’t
worry, I’ll cover it,” and the
show continued.“ Hoosen
was the mime who created
atmosphere. He was hold-
ing a cloud in each hand,
bringing wind into the
scene. Half-way across the
stage, the phone, still on
stage but previously forgot-
ten, rang. “Dali marches
onto the stage, picks up the
phone,” swears into it “and
slams it down,” says Hoos-
en, laughing at the memo-
ry. “Then, he realizes he is
on stage, so he we do the
passage together.” He enjoys
the memory. “Working for
Salvador Dali was my first
paid job,” says Hoosen.
By the time Hoosen was
back in Canada, it was the
mid-seventies and “mime
had become irrelevant.”
He managed to find work
teaching mime at a dance
school in Toronto. He
expanded into clowning
and began doing shows
in schools, pushing for
acceptance of clowning
as a viable form of artistic
expression and entertain-
ment, just as mime had
been. He also worked as the
puppeteer for Fred Penner,
a children’s performer. Can-
ada was becoming a world
leader in children’s enter-
tainment and Hoosen was
good, some would say, “the
best,” in his field. He had
honed his timing, the nu-
ances of silent conversation
and gesture, enacting an
inner dialogue and joking
out loud. He routinely put
himself into a diminished
position relative to his au-
dience and built up a trav-
elling show that he took “to
every school in the coun-
try.” Hoosen says by the
time Canada Council de-
cided to provide grants for
him to initiate therapeutic
clowning in hospitals, he
had “had to make some
hard decisions; to focus my
career on children.”
In ’76 he founded Cirque
Alexandre which oper-
ates as a non profit society
in Nova Scotia, BC. and
Ontario. “I worked with
Child Life, who advocate
for the psychological and
social needs of kids in the
facilities.”
As if on cue, two other pro-
grams sprang up in other
parts of the world. One of
the women in his troupe
in Paris similarly start-
ed a program in the U.S.,
while in France, Le Rire
Medicins, has been recog-
nized for their therapeutic
value, officially deemed a
“French National Cultural
Treasure.” Hoosen is free to
walk into any department
in a hospital, “short of
surgery.” This freedom has
given him the chance to go
into hospitals and finesse
the therapy into the form
that it is today. For the first
20 years, for instance,
Hoosen’s character nev-
er spoke a word, now his
approach has shifted into a
speaking character.
In this way, Hoosen is a
controversial figure in
the world of clowning. “I
don’t believe in staying in
character,” he says. He has
learned that in working
with teens, for instance,
he can build a relationship
by dropping character,
“pulling aside the curtain,”
and using social or sport
references used by teens.
“I’ll show them how to
do my magic trick, or I’ll
ask them to teach me one
of their own. We create a
dialogue we can build on.”
He says some professionals
frown upon this technique,
of a clown stepping out of
character or giving away a
magic trick.
As one of the world’s first
professional therapeutic
clowns with an established
protocol, he says “no one
can tell me I’m not doing it
right. I’ve been doing this
for 45 years.” By softening
the character, “it encourag-
es the kids to share.”
Like a magician, he can
shift the focus in a room
Professional therapeutic clown Paul Hoosen, uses clowinng to ease suffering of kids
and youth in hospitals. As a result, parents feel better too. photo Louise Loik
Therapeutic clowning goes mainstream
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2. Cont’d from pg 1
temporarily off fear
and despair. “I spot
the people who are
marginalized, unno-
ticed otherwise, and
lonely.” He reaches
out and touches
hearts.
One particular exam-
ple of results from his
life-changing efforts
has been portrayed
in the media, with
the story of Wilson
Liu. Wilson suf-
fered from Batten’s
disease, a life-short-
ening disorder. He
began to go blind at
five-years-old. Still,
Wilson grew up to
play the trombone
and electric guitar in
the youth orchestra at
Camp Bowen. Under
Hoosen’s tutelage, as
a young man facing
the end of his life, he
kept up his spirits, in
part, by becaming a
trained clown. With
Hoosen, he clowned
at Bowfest and in
the parade. “He was
a First Response
Clown, cooling the
audience with a spray
gun. I would squeeze
his elbow to signal
him when to spray,
and no one knew he
was blind.” Together,
they were just two
clowns and an audi-
ence having fun. “As
a clown, you can do
amazing things by
drawing out what’s
inside.” The young
clown died at 22, but
not before being hon-
oured by the Vancou-
ver Fire Dept. with
the Youth Communi-
ty Hero Award. “He
was so inspiring.”
Hoosen says that
“when you work in
hospitals you fo-
cus on life, not the
pain and dis-ease.”
He explains that his
clown character, “Dr.
Albert Einstein, the
Turd, twice removed,”
is childlike, but not
childish. “There is
always a logic. You
are playing with
status and hierarchy.
It’s about success
through failure. The
patients grow in sta-
tus as you diminish.”
He explains clown-
ing like a scientific
equation where con-
nection is the final
objective. Find an
emotion, take away
a threat, add some
amusement. He has
to be clinical about
sanitation of all his
props and materials,
and precise in calcu-
lating the personal
dynamics in any
room. He chooses
his words with care.
While clowning may
trigger an image of a
buffoon, Hoosen is
no fool.
Hoosen says that
medical schools are
paying attention to
bedside manner,
which is why he
shares his
insights at
the faculty
of medicine
at UBC. In
Vancou-
ver, he has
initiated
programs at
Sunnyhill,
Children’s
Hospital
and at Ca-
nuck Place
where he
also teaches
his tech-
niques.
Hoosen
walks into
a room and
“the mo-
ment a child
sees me,
my anten-
nae is way,
way out,”
picking up
subtle cues
that guide
his course
of action.
He explains
that he’s “not in there
doing a show. I’m
not entertaining.
I’m building a rela-
tionship. It’s about
interaction. It’s a
conversation,” even in
moments of silence.
“If I see a child in
the hall coming
towards me, I step
sideways, so I’m not
in a confrontational
position,” he likes to
use bubbles as a tool.
“They are magical
and gentle. I stand
beside them and
we experience the
moment together.”
From there he can
move into a dialogue.
Hoosen often takes
on the persona of a
feckless character but
what he does is never
an act, but a psycho-
logical strategy to
build a relationship.
If a patient can relax
and smile, Hoosen is
happy.
He has different tools
and strategies he uses
for every age group,
and every situation,
and he uses those
tools with the pre-
cision and to great
effect.
Considered a lead-
er in the field, this
summer Hoosen will
be presenting a talk
on therapeutic work
with teens, at a world
conference in Spain.
© Copyright 2016
Bowen Island Under-
current
The power of clowning as a tool for healing is no joke
Paul Hoosen prepares for a conference in Europe where he
will instruct others on the subtleties of therapeutic clowning.
photo Louise Loik