Romanian clown and theatre-maker Edith Alibec brings her debut hour The Void to the Edinburgh Fringe. A purple clown walks on stage with a problem she cannot solve on her own: there is a void inside her, and she has absolutely no idea what to put in it. Edith asks the room what fills the void, then tries everything they suggest - work, love, snacks, dopamine. Every answer becomes part of the show, so no two performances are ever the same.

The Void, directed by Dana Paraschiv, is about fragility and the need to feel whole, the things we reach for to fill our inner emptiness, and the strange tenderness between a clown and a room full of strangers. In an age of doomscrolling, burnout and the quiet loneliness of being always online, it asks what we actually stuff into that deep place inside us - and how responsible we are for it.

Edith Alibec is a Romanian clown, actress and cultural producer working between Romania, Germany and the UK. She trained at the Athanor Akademie in Germany under David Esrig, and specialised in contemporary clowning through intensive London workshops with Julia Masli, Dan Lees, Dr Brown and Furiozo. Her debut solo, Why the Child is Cooking in the Polenta (dir. Dana Paraschiv), after Aglaja Veteranyi’s novel, toured internationally - Munich, Berlin (Volksbühne), Zürich (Cabaret Voltaire), Stockholm, Vienna, New York, London (The Gate; Camden People’s Theatre / SPRINT), Oxford Playhouse, ADC Theatre Cambridge - and won every prize at Romania’s Bacău Monodrama Festival 2018. 

What is the last thing you do before you go on stage, apart from checking your flies, checking your knickers aren't sticking out of your skirt, and checking for spinach between your teeth?

I have to do a little dance and get myself into a joyous mood. That's the trick, somehow. Although, to be honest with you, sometimes the clown appears, and sometimes it's gone. I haven't found the trick yet to make sure I'm there when I go on stage.

What irritates you in general?

I get irritated when I scroll a little too much. This morning, I scrolled for an hour. Bad. Not a good thing. I get irritated by myself doing it. Externally, I don't like it when people are impulsive. I don't know how to deal with that. It's too much for me.

What is the most dangerous thing you have ever done?

I’m not into adrenaline-inducing stuff like parachuting or bungee jumping. I was on some crazy roller coasters many years ago in Canada. To be honest, I don't know if I'd do that now, with those crazy drops! I feel like that's the most dangerous thing I've done. 

What is the most stupid thing you have ever done?

One of the stupidest things I've ever done was taking ayahuasca in an apartment in Bucharest. I hadn't really done much research about ayahuasca. I knew what it was, but I hadn't done enough research to know that you shouldn't take it in an apartment. I took it with a friend, and someone was supervising us. And, just to be clear, I don't have any experience with drugs at all. I said, “Oh my God, I need to do something revolutionary to experience some ego death.” And I did it, and it transported me to another world.

When I opened my eyes and saw the apartment - because someone was talking in the apartment - I went mad. There's a reason people take this kind of stuff in nature! And then I fought it the whole time, because there was this thing that was making me forget who I am, my history. But at the same time, I was seeing the apartment in a very material, concrete way. And these two things that I was experiencing didn't match at all.

What has surprised you the most during your career in comedy?

This is my first clown show. I come from theatre. I’ve done a theatre show that has a lot of stand-up in it. But what has surprised me the most is that it makes me feel very vulnerable. In comedy, it's very black and white. You go on stage, you get your feedback instantly and you have to roll with it, whether it's positive or negative. But I have experience as a performer, so I don't know if there's anything that has surprised me in comedy.

What do your parents think of your job?

At the beginning, when I decided to become an actress, my mum wasn't into it. But now she's fine with it. She gets very involved when I don't have “success.” She's like, “Why didn't people buy tickets?” I think she realises that's who I am now. She was amazed by it, she was surprised by it, but now she's just rolling with it.

What's the worst thing about being a comedian?

That you genuinely feel very bad when you fuck it up.

I think you're very good at what you do. What do you think of you?

I think I'm very good at what I do. I think I need to work with the right people, and that has been challenging. People who direct me in the right direction, who can give me the support I need. Especially in comedy, especially in clown - it's very different from theatre. There's a different approach and a different way of working. I’m now discovering that more and more, and trying to tap into that when I build the show, not only when I do workshops.

How much do you earn and how much would you like to earn?

Even now, every Fringe that I’ve done, I’ve done it with funding, so I’m lucky in that sense. Now, I have funding from the Romanian Cultural Institute. I’ve heard that even top performers at the Fringe who sell out and stuff like that, the money they earn is very little in the end, once they subtract the expenses. I feel like there are two other options. You either are born rich, which is pretty legit. I feel like rich people make art - even in the past, even nowadays. It makes sense because the family has already taken care of the base of Maslow’s pyramid.

Or, you have two part-time jobs, you have funding, you find solutions. In the UK environment, if you’re a working performer, even if you sell out, it’s still not a sustainable career. In Romania, if you’re employed as an actor, it’s different because we still have this old system where you can be employed in a theatre as an actor. I’m not, but I’ve developed this independent producer thing, where I apply for funding for each project that I do. And I also, when I need to, keep some part-time jobs on the side. Now I’m in a phase where I’m going full-on acting and performing for one year. Let’s see what happens!

How important is luck in terms of career success? Have you had lucky breaks?

To be honest, I think it’s very important. I think preparation is also very important. I don’t feel like I’ve had a lucky break yet, not really. Good things happened - winning some prizes or meeting the right people - but I haven’t seen it as a lucky break. It happened as a result of me being there. I feel like when I start giving up on this - when I start investing my time in different things and not in performing - then the “luck” drifts away from me. And when I invest and put all my energy into one thing, then my “luck” comes back.

Alan Davies has said that comedians fall into two categories: golfers and self-harmers. The former just get on with life. The latter are tortured artists. Which are you, or do you think you fit into a third category?

Funny that I read this question after I answered what I said before, because yes, exactly! Tortured artists have jobs and stuff like that, and golfers are probably the ones born rich who just do art, which is great.

What do you think you are?

I think I fit into a third category because I wasn’t born rich, so I have the tortured artist vibe in the sense that sometimes I fret too much. I’m thinking, “What am I doing?” But because I worked and built some stability for myself, at the moment, I feel like I’m in between. I don’t want to live my life as a tortured artist, so I’m in between tortured artist vibes and just wanting to get on with my life and enjoy it. I’m exactly there. And clown also teaches me that - enjoying.

Who is your favourite person ever and why? Not including family, friends, or other comedians.

So I used to answer this question with Ed Sheeran. I know it’s funny - you can laugh at me as much as you want. But twelve years ago, when I was in Germany studying acting, I used to watch a lot of Ed Sheeran interviews. He was launching an album, and the way he talked about living, about doing it, about sacrificing it all, going there, sleeping wherever, doing a show for two people - it motivated me at that point to actually do my own show.

I thought, as an actor, you always have this thing where you have to wait for castings. I was like, “No. I can do like Ed Sheeran. I cannot write my own song, but I can do my own show.” Which, of course, feels like it takes much more time than writing a song. But yeah, I can do that. And I started then. I did my first show based on a book. But now, because it’s been many years since I’ve watched those interviews, and in the present moment, to be honest, I’ve had film directors who I felt inspired by.

But favourite person ever? These are people I’m more inspired by, not necessarily my favourite person. I don’t know. I’m starting to see all people very equally.

Do you keep your drawers tidy and, if not, why not?

Drawers, to be honest, not really. But this is not about if I think they should be tidy. I think they should be tidy. But I’m a little bit ADHD. I like it when I clean up. But my drawers just have stuff in them. Let’s put it like that. My drawers are okay. But it’s not that I don’t want to. It’s that somehow, I don’t deem it important.

And now the bonus ball question from you.

I would ask myself, “Why did I scroll for one hour this morning? Just why?”

Anxiety.