Richard Pochinko was raised on a farm in Lockport, Manitoba, the youngest of three brothers and two sisters. His father died when he was eight months old. His mother and his eldest brother and sister maintained the household. It was as if he had two mothers. When he was a child, he would go in the barn and make miniature stages and circuses, and fill them with tiny actors and performers.
He studied clown technique with Lecoq in Paris, but found the European tradition authoritarian and confirming. Back in North America, on the West Coast, he came to know the remarkable American Indian Clown, Jonsmith, who taught him many things from the Native tradition that few people, particularly non-Indians, know. These two traditions came together to form the Pochinko technique. At the core of this approach is the idea that if we can face all the directions of ourselves, North, South, East, West, Up, Down, we can only laugh - at the beauty and wonder that is in us.
Richard first started to teach these ideas at the National Arts Centre, but, after a while, he and Annie Skinner decided to set up a studio where they could do things their own way. And so the Theatre Resource Centre was born, with a dual mandate: to teach and to develop new work. Now, under artistic director Ian Walllace, the TRC has celebrated its sixteenth year. Its influence has been felt throughout Canadian theatre.
As well as being a teacher, for which he was best known, Richard was a very fine director. Part of the reason that this less known is that he gave so freely, and rarely took complete credit for the productions that he worked on. Many actors and performers would come to him to help develop their work, bringing what was often only the germ of an idea. Richard would pull the work out of them, shape it, help design it, often light and stage manage it and direct it in workshops. Then, in many cases, he would say, "There. I've done what I can. It's yours now." And he would go on to the next new project.
He arrived in Quebec at a critical and exciting cultural and political time. And he dove into his new world with enthusiasm. He discovered a new identity. It was Michel Tremblay's era. Richard contributed to the birth of a new Montreal theatre. With the help of his best friend Dominique Fecteau and a team of that ilk, he transformed an old, decrepit bar near St-Laurent street into a cabaret-theatre. It's name? "Les Foufounes Electriques." There he held the Montreal premiere of the play Nion, The Birth of a Clown. To this day, the location still has the reputation for being avant-garde.
Richard was wise, perceptive, and seer. He was able to differentiate between bilingualism and biculturalism, between nationalism and universality. He adopted the Quebecois culture by offering workshops in French at Linda Mancini's studio among others. If the language got in the way, he resorted to mime. He touched so many among us there.
His boundless energy, so contagious, saved many a life.
On April 29 of the year Richard was dying, not knowing how to communicated to Richard my distress and helplessness, I said, "Richard, I am drowning. It is dark and there is a storm. I don't see an island on the horizon. I am scared." Richard replied, "Its easy, Gabriel. All you have to do is create your own island." His smile was universal. He helped us climb out of the abyss of hopelessness toward a new confidence.
The first thing about Richard that I remember is the light. Purely and simply the space between and around us was filled with light. For me our meeting was an awakening, and instantaneous recognition of a light brother. From then on I was immersed in a world of emotions, of love and tears, and laughter, and the theatre. The theatre. That was Richard's life and yet his vision went on beyond.
Once Richard spoke in his sleep of being in a spaceship along with others, some that we knew, some we had yet to meet. As we flew over the earth we saw people. at first he thought we were waving. As we came closer, he gasped, "No, they're trying to get out, they're all inside glass jars struggling to get out. Our mission is to release them, to break down the glass and let them free."
This became Richard's work: helping people to release themselves. He freed us to face our essential uniqueness and encouraged us to love and celebrate it. He called it the clown.
The community of Native actors working in the Toronto area today received a big boost from Mr. Pochinko, not only in terms of their training as actors, but in terms as well of commitment to theatre as an art.
Richard said that he started each morning with a dance of joy so that no matter what happened during the day, that joy would return to him somewhere. Since I started my clown work with Richard two years ago he has returned to me almost every day.
I decided I didn't like Richard Pochinko even before I met him. He was the handsome blond guy who was always surrounded by eager, adoring faces. But then I took a class from him and realized that he was a teacher of genius. He was also a great human being, and eventually my dear friend. I miss him very much.
Richard celebrated the edge of risk. Jan Kudelka (Performer, Playwright) Knowing, loving, and working with Richard gave me immeasurable gifts, the greatest being in my own creative imagination. Since the years of Clown work in the mid 70s, my focus in theatre became exclusively musical and compositional, direction which Richard very much encouraged. What I had learned from Richard completely permeates my approach to musical scoring - an uncanny sense of trusting my first impulses, an intuitive understanding of text,. atmosphere, coloration and intent. Not a day goes by in my musical work that does not draw on his rich legacy. He taught by example, friendship, and inspired instruction, the art of making manifest the dream. He is with me always.
He brought out from its hiding place within me my joy of playing, and let me share it with the world.
Richard gave me a new perspective on the world. He looked at what a person was, unencumbered by expectation and judgement. And he respected and celebrated their want and desires. He was also a very private man, and I learned much about being alone form him.
Meeting Richard in 1983 opened for me a whole new world - The world of Theatre. It was like him taking me by the hand and guiding me through all the aspects of theatre starting with clowning, then characterization, both as a performer (in temptonga) and as a director (by workshopping my ideas and helping me to realize them).
"Ida - follow your instincts."
This is the strongest guiding point he left me with. He seemed to be able to take the gifts we have and make them grow. He helped each person find their unique creative gift.
I think about him every day. Richard sitting in the old red comfy studio chair like a throne - his head back, eyes crying, a rough sound ringing in the studio for a brief moment, then eyes up, twinkling, ears bright red, anticipating the next fantastic thing. (Cashman, 1991: pg 97 - 98)