Circus

I'm not sure when my fascination with the circus was ignited. I have vague memories of attending one as a child. I remember holding my mom's hand while entering what felt like the largest tent in the world. I have colorful memories of the county fair that we attended annually. The smell of funnel cakes takes me back there. I have distinct memories of walking into a funhouse room of mirrors. Magicians still captivate me. The first time I saw elephants at a zoo, they had rubbed up against the clay wall of their enclosure and were completely orange. Our local shopping mall took out the fountain and put in a carousel and I loved it the first time I rode it. The colors, the sounds, the lights, the entertainment of what a circus could be seemed so alluring. 

In college I did a small series of works from a variety of classes that semester relating to the disappointing side of circuses. The animal abuse, sad clowns, etc.

Years later I wondered through a festival with my toddler daughter. I tied a balloon to her tiny backpack and watched her run in the grass while I listened to a calliope steam organ wagon and stared at the elaborate carvings. I was transported back to the fascination of my younger years. 

As more years have passed, I began my current obsession with collages. I was using almost exclusively models from John Everard's photo reference book Second Sitting. When I came across the female figure of a women tiptoeing with her arms outstretched up, I immediately saw her balancing on a high wire, and my first Funambulist was born. My fixation on her led to the unleashing of all my subsequent CIRCUS characters, and their stories called out to me as I glued all their pieces together. It felt incomplete until I had an entire collection. Showcasing what these women are capable of has inspired me to pursue what I might be capable of. 

Visit the Stories tab to read the short essays and poems about this series