He admits he's a bit loony, but his mission is to live up to his rather insane and idiosyncratic billing: "Certified Lunatic and Master of the Impossible."

Meet Tomás Kubínek (pronounced toh-mawsh koo-bee-neck), a Czech performing artist who's impossible to pigeonhole.

You can marvel at his stagecraft when he performs his uncanny one-man show today at Paliku Theatre on the Windward Community College campus.

Kubínek admits he's different, complex and mystical — part comedian, part clown, part vaudevillian, part puppeteer, part circus artist, part street performer, part acrobat, part magician.

"And lunatic," he said in a telephone conversation from his home in Connecticut.

He can't remember when he wasn't part strange.

"Early on, in my early 20s, I was performing at different folk festivals, doing all kinds of stuff. It was back then I was called a 'certified lunatic and master of the impossible.' I liked it; it has supposition."

It also has box-office sizzle. Nearly everywhere in the world he performs, he sells out, thanks to word-of-mouth buzz.

And in this world full of stress, terrorism and daily angst, Kubínek provides some release.

"I think there's a thirst for laughs," he said. "And hunger is the best cook. I wouldn't say it's easy to make people feel good. But it takes a lot of experience to be good at it. I think, even, it's necessary."

The arts, he said, "offer a kind of spiritual oasis from some of the other aspects of life that we deal with. So humor and anarchy have a healing role. You want to let go and laugh and see things in a different perspective. You watch, you find things that strengthen you, things that give you a breather. You might even find a positive way to approach things. With optimism."

His brand of performance harkens back to old-time music halls, where vaudeville and variety were king. Yet his virtuoso comedy and nontraditional clowning, with lots of diversity, echo the kind of contemporary surreal and mystifying creations in, say, a Cirque du Soleil extravaganza or a Monty Python sketch.

He certainly does the unusual, loaded with quirky surprises. Like walking with six feet, thanks to a contraption of two pairs of size 13 1/2 shoes moving along with the pair on his feet.

Or playing the 'ukulele, with a filled wine glass on his forehead, then retrieving the glass with his feet and teeth and finally downing the red wine in a quick gulp.

As he explains:

"I kinda put a bunch of things together for that one," said Kubínek. "I can drink this glass, off my forehead, with my teeth. When not doing anything with my mouth, I start whistling while playing chords. On my back, I get the wine — and it is real wine — and figure it's reward for the work I do."

At Brigham Young University, where alcohol is not permitted, he subbed the grape stuff with Martinelli's bubbly soda. At a performance at an opera house once, the wine splashed in his eyes — "you know, liquor stings when it hits the eye — so I couldn't see, the wine spilled, but I had fun with it, because there was a nurse in the audience and I had her minister a paper napkin to me."

While he won't admit his age, Kubínek said he's basically a kid at heart.

"It doesn't matter how old you are; on stage, it looks like I'm 80 or 30. It depends how you feel. I think some people lose touch with the curious or creative art within themselves; as an artist, you must stay connected. This keeps you awake, keeps you searching," he said.

"This kid side of me is stimulated; helps me be joyous, playful. Everything you learn, you try by experiment. And you must keep learning that way; when you think you know everything, your learning stops."

Kubínek said this peculiar career of his started when he was 11.

"I have always been interested in physical performing, puppetry, mime, clowning, improvisation. I did birthday parties as a kid, magic shows; I also started working coffee houses, did a lot of street performing, worked in circuses and did a Broadway musical that toured Canada. I studied clowning in Paris and in London from the best."

He was born in Prague, lived with his family in an Austrian refugee camp and ultimately was raised in Canada. While he lives in Connecticut, he maintains European and Canadian citizenship.

"I have a green card; I want to see how many passports I can collect," he said.

Clearly, that distinctive background has seasoned his outlook.

"There's something of the Czech spirit that comes through my performance," he said. "Being part of an immigrant family brings me closer to other people's stories; and every family has a story or saga to share. I see people as people. My mom was a nurse all her life, and she's had a beautiful quality, nonjudgmental, seeing ailment without categorizing or judging."

Because his is a one-man show, his work is solitary. But he likes it that way.

"It's very satisfying to be alone," said Kubínek. "I think it makes me stronger; it's exhausting, but satisfying. I like it when I can spend a long enough time without talking. Often, it feels like a dromedary; you know, I have a hump of lard that keeps me going. I did this meditation retreat once, where you don't make eye contact, communicate or speak. I was pretty happy with the quiet, the aloneness."

This is his first working trip to Hawai'i, although he stopped over in the Islands once after a Broadway engagement at the New Victory Theatre, en route to the Great Barrier Reef to try scuba diving.

"It was a treat to myself to try scuba diving, and while in Hawai'i, I went to see Herb Ohta, who was performing at the Queen Kapi'olani Hotel," Kubínek recalled. "He played 'ukulele; I know the 'ukulele came from Portugal, where I also performed, and I got to talk to Herb a little even though I didn't know him. He was sweet, taking time to talk, and will you tell him I apologize for taking his time, because I think he was feeling badly. I also had a great vacation on the Big Island and went to look at the whales on Maui."

Reach Wayne Harada at wharada@honoluluadvertiser.com.