#1 (Revised)
The idea of vulnerability from Brene Brown and Laugh Clown Laugh--A combined story with me
When a performer steps onto the stage, the most obvious reward is the applause, but it also disappears immediately. When all of those flashlights, crowds, passionate voices are gone, one question is left: What's the meaning of all of these things? For many performers, "chasing applause" doesn't really mean chasing fame. It is more like an exploration between reality, identification, and their own purpose. Stage is a space that performers try to create a bridge between themselves and their audiences. By examining Eugene Robinson, Philippe Petit, and Reinhard Horstkotte's artistic practices, we can understand that the meaning performers seek is not found in audience validation, but in the ongoing work of self-discovery through art.
The first important part of chasing meaning beyond applause is to think about artistic success in a different way—as a process of real expression that keeps going, not as a perfect final product. This change makes performance mean something different: the performer is not trying to show a perfect show for people to judge, but trying to open a real human connection, even if this means showing mistakes or weak parts. When performers care more about being real than being perfect, they invite audiences into a different kind of relationship, one that is about witnessing something true, not just watching entertainment.
For many stage performers, chasing dreams means the pursuit towards creating with freedom and authenticity, which means express your minds, emotions, and the capability for self-identity without restraints. Robinson described this process of creating arts as "understand, unwrap, and express their ideas," emphasizing this process was more important than the final result. He was "mired in this burning teenage desire for authenticity." This determination towards authenticity had become the whole foundation of his performance ideology. For Robinson, art was expression. No matter what was the content, the performance itself was the purest, or the most authentic, existence.
This emphasis on "process" and "state of being" reveals that authenticity isn't about achieving perfection, but about maintaining presence and openness. When Petit admitted that he "lied" about TED Talk's 18-minute time restriction—"Okay, I cheated, it was a mere 20 minutes. But hey, we're on TED time"—just to amuse people, this part of revealing became part of the performance, which emphasized the authentic vibe he created. He did not rely on perfection, instead, he relied on the connection between him and the audience. When he chose to tell people about his mistake instead of hiding it, he showed that keeping a real connection is more important than keeping the appearance of being perfect.
Similarly, Horstkotte claimed that clowns needed "a certain state of being, a certain state of innocence" to perform effectively. He considered that innocence was not about immature, but like a demonstration of his real emotions being opened towards the crowds. He reveals that clowning offered him "freedom to overcome the seriousness of my surroundings."
What unites these approaches is a shared commitment: their core is not to present a flawless performance, but to ensure that some channel of "authenticity" is opened. This suggested that artistic identity was being built through authenticity. This kind of genuine communication is even willing to go to the extent of challenging the comfort zone of the audience, making them face emotional risks. Filou and Phillipe both make the relationship between the audience and risks during the performance upside down: Filou, he made us to face the emotional risks, which make us to feel embarrassed, and Petit, he made us to face a deadly risk between live and death in order to reveal that life is about guts to live truly. When they put risk in the center of the performance, both artists make audiences become people who take part in the show, not just people who watch passively. They taught us that the most failure in your life is about living in scripts.
The second part of chasing a dream beyond applause is about actively fighting against the predetermined scripts that limit real expression. This idea of "living in scripts" shows an important truth: scripts are the invisible rules—what society expects, what institutions require, what we tell ourselves about being perfect—that tell us how life and art should be done. These scripts say they will give us acceptance but they really give us conformity. To look for meaning beyond applause is to see that applause often gives rewards to people who stay inside expected limits. Therefore, chasing a dream also means embracing the rebellious spirit of art—the willingness to challenge norms, break boundaries, and resist the pressures that try to shape performers into predictable forms. However, their rebellion was not an act of rebellion for its own sake, but rather a natural consequence of defending the "truth" from the previous stage.
Robinson's insistence towards honesty naturally leads him into a position of resistance, especially because the authenticity of arts was exactly the disobedience of the rules. When he takes off his clothes on stage, people think that he is crazy and claim that it is just a performance, whereas Robinson reckons that it is like exposure of how he truly is. This is a refusal to participate in the prettified performance identity and a declaration that authenticity is worth the price of discomfort. His rebellion is based on the belief that when art follows too many rules, it loses its meaning. Robinson challenges norms through a rebellion of honesty. For him, true rebellion is not about shock, but about the ongoing work of "cleaning the mirror" to reveal his authentic self. His act of undressing on stage is the physical proof of this rebellion, removing society's expectations to show who he truly is.
If Robinson's rebellion was internal, targeting social norms and false masks, then Petit's rebellion was external, targeting physical boundaries and institutional authority. He mentions being "thrown out of five different schools because instead of listening to the teachers, I am my own teacher, progressing in my new art." This highlights his rejection of traditional learning structures in favor of his unique, self-directed path. What's more, a key aspect of his rebellion is his history of "putting up wires and performing in secret and performing without permission." This includes iconic locations like Notre Dame, the Sydney Harbour Bridge, and most famously, the World Trade Center. This directly defies authority and conventional venues, making his art an act of liberation.
Horstkotte's rebellion, on the other hand, offers a more philosophical dimension. What he opposes is success studies, perfectionism, and even the "seriousness" of life itself. Horstkotte was fascinated by the "spontaneity and the freedom of the clown," seeing the clown as a "whole human being" embodying humility, freedom, dignity, and playfulness. This idea of the "whole human being" means that performance is not about showing just one nice part of yourself, but about letting people see the complete, complicated, contradictory human. For him, the clown offered "freedom to overcome the seriousness of my surroundings," suggesting a rejection of rigid societal expectations. The biggest challenge for him is "to hold the confidence not to be disturbed by what the clown ought to be." This directly speaks to resisting external pressures and predetermined forms. He stresses that a costume isn't enough; it requires "a certain state of being, a certain state of innocence." The clown is the "master of failure" and "loves the fiasco," which subverts the typical artistic pursuit of perfection and success, instead embracing imperfection and the unexpected. Horstkotte concludes by stating, "Everything is important, but nothing is really very serious." This philosophy inherently challenges conventional seriousness and rigidity, advocating for a more fluid and less constrained approach to life and art.
From this, it can be seen that their rebellions collectively decomposed the concept of "living within a script." Robinson fought against the behavioral and image scripts imposed by society, Petit against the geographical and legal constraints scripts, and Horstkotte against the internal psychological scripts of pursuing perfection and seriousness. Their art jointly declared: True freedom begins with deviating from any given "script." Filou and Petit are two sides of the coin, they both use performance to exchange your true heart.
The third and most basic aspect of chasing meaning beyond applause is understanding that performance itself becomes the way through which identity is built and discovered. Rather, performers chase dreams beyond applause because the artistic journey becomes a path for them to discover their own identity. Through the pursuit of authenticity and continuous rebellion, this artistic practice ultimately leads to a more fundamental pursuit: the construction and confirmation of one's own identity. Identity is not something fixed or waiting to be shown—it comes out through the act of creating, through the choices made in artistic practice, through continuous conversation between the artist and their work.
For Robinson, creating art is not only about freedom or rebellion, but about understanding who he truly is. In the interview, he explains that making a work is like "cleaning this mirror," and the reflection becomes more real as the process continues. Each performance is like wiping the mirror again, removing layers of fear, doubt, and disguise. This metaphor shows that art cannot be separated from the self; while creating, the artist naturally reveals part of who they are. The work of making art is the work of taking away things, of removing what covers up until what is left is clear.
Petit also connects his dream with self-identification. When he was young, he simply declared, "I'm becoming a juggler," and later, "I'm becoming a wire walker." His identity appears through actions instead of predefined roles. He describes passion as "the motto of all my actions," showing that his performances are extensions of his inner beliefs. For him, the size of the performance does not matter; he sees street juggling and the World Trade Center walk as being "on the same artistic level" because both allow him to express his core values—tenacity, intuition, and faith. His art becomes a biography written with actions rather than words. The way he speaks—"I'm becoming"—shows that identity is something that keeps developing, not something that is fixed.
For Horstkotte, the journey of being a clown also becomes a way of exploring the self. He values what he calls the "poetic side" of the clown and a "poetic space that's not dependent on others," which shows his focus on internal truth rather than external approval. He describes the clown as a figure containing sadness, longing, and freedom, and this allows him to express emotional corners of life that are normally hidden. For him, the clown is not a mask but a mirror. By performing, he discovers forms of sincerity, innocence, and resistance that shape his worldview. His biggest challenge is "keeping the confidence not to be disturbed by what the clown ought to be," which means staying true to his own understanding instead of following expectations. This private poetic space becomes a safe field where he can explore who he is without judgment.
What these three performers show is that performance works as a way of actively writing your own self. Whether through Robinson's mirror-cleaning, Petit's decisive declarations of becoming, or Horstkotte's poetic space of exploration, identity is not simply expressed but constructed through artistic practice. The meaning they seek beyond applause accumulates through this ongoing work of self-discovery. This is why applause cannot provide lasting meaning: applause responds to what was performed, but the performer's real reward is what they discovered about themselves in the act of performing.
Robinson's, Petit's, and Horstkotte's artistic journeys reveal that "chasing a dream beyond applause" is something that hasn't been mentioned on the stage. Their attitudes towards creation, their identities, and thoughts behind are shared between their art and the self. The meaning these performers look for exists in the connected practices of pursuing authenticity, rebelling against scripts, and constructing identity through action. Ultimately, for all three performers, chasing a dream beyond applause is about pursuing authenticity and discovering identity. Whether wiping the mirror through artistic creation, writing a biography through action, or protecting an inner poetic space, their dreams come from a desire to understand themselves. Their journeys show that dreaming is not about public approval. It is about resisting conformity, revealing truth, and finding the parts of their identity that remain even after the applause fades. For performers, chasing a dream isn't just about pursuing applause, but finding the meaning of self through all of these performances.
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