Minggu, 13 November 2011

Truth in Reality and Deception

(Shaman Showman - part 4)

"Dancing Sorcerer" After Henri Breuil's drawing.
“The oldest religion of which we have any secure knowledge is the shamanism of the late Old Stone Age (Paleolithic) as we have seen it depicted in the caves of southern France and northern Spain.” (Weston LaBarre.) Further, “Nothing justifies the supposition that, during the hundreds and thousands of years that precedes the earliest Stone Age, humanity did not have a religious life as intense and various as in the succeeding periods.” (Mircea Eliade.) 
Research and deepened understanding of early religious practices reveals the riches of the religious experience of these ancient human systems. They were in no way inferior in their ability to supply answers to big philosophical questions, to control the dangerously random processes of nature, to strengthen community bonds, or providing real healing powers in times of sickness.                        
12000 yo cave painting, Trois Freres, France


From the furthest recesses of time our ancestors put their trust in shamans with spiritual and bodily needs. For the shaman was not only priest but also medicine man. Today this seems very strange indeed, since doctor and priest are two very separate occupations. Each belonging to fundamentally different ideological systems, namely science and religion. In these ancient times though, such distinctions were yet to be made. It is interesting here to note that, at root level, these sprung from a similar source.

“In a mysterious world full of unknown dangers like death, disease and other disasters, the shaman is the man who claims knowledge and power over these frightening mysteries that the ordinary man manifestly does not have. Clinically, we might view the shaman as a paranoiac, in his claims to omniscience, omnipotence and omnibenevolence. And yet, since these are what his clientele demand of him, these are what the medicine man must purport to provide.” (LaBarre)

All this was the shaman's obligation. Since early man placed their faith in shamans we must ask: What did shamans do to deserve this trust? What powers did they wield? And how well did it work?
Shamanism was practiced worldwide, from Europe to America, Africa to Mongolia, and Brazil to Japan. This enormous distribution might certainly be taken as an indication of its efficacy. It did what it set out to do effectively enough for the practice to be almost universal. 

What powers did they wield?

According to Melbourne Christopher, one of the oldest and most performed Native American mysteries was a ritual know as the shaking tent. It was an important and often performed shamanistic ritual amongst the North American Cree Culture. It played an important role in the yearly cycle of harvest and other ritual activities of the Innu people of Quebec and Labrador.
“It was not only an important method of direct communication with the caribou and other animal masters, as well as with Mishtapeu and cannibal spirits, it was also a source of amusement. The shaman used the tent to look into the hidden world of animal spirits, and to make contact with Innu in distant groups.” United Cherokee Nation



Shaking tent ritual in progress.
“Sheshatshiu Innu who have seen the shaking tent say that it was a small, conically-shaped tent, with caribou hide covering and four, six, or eight poles depending on the spiritual power (manitushiun) of the shaman (the shaman is called the Kakushapatak, officient, in the context of the ritual). It would be set up inside another tent on a floor of freshly picked fir boughs. Younger men would act as assistants (apprentices?) to the Kakushapatak in setting up the tent.
“As soon as the Kakushapatak stuck his head in the tent, it would start to shake violently, indicating that the officient had been joined by a spirit, usually Mishtapeu who helped him communicate with the other spirits."
in his book "Magic and Meaning," magician Eugene Burger gives an interesting description of this ritual performed in an unusual setting:

“At Leech Lake, Minnesota, in the 1850’s, an Ojibwa shaman was offered a hundred dollars if he could successfully demonstrate this talent. He was securely tied, observed by a committee of twelve, including an Episcopal clergyman, and placed in his tent, which began to sway violently. Strange sounds were heard. The shaman shouted that the rope could be found in a nearby house. When one of the group was sent to the house, the knotted rope was found. In the tent, the shaman was found peacefully smoking a pipe.” According to Christopher “The committee – now eleven, the clergyman having fled, crying that this was the work of the devil – agreed unanimously that the hundred dollars should be paid at once.”

This challenge was no ordinary setting for shamanistic activities, but nonetheless, the demonstration must have been formidable. Despite their intention of discovering the trickery involved in the shaking tent ritual, the critically minded gathering of men found no evidence of deception. A crowd of firm believers would then be even less likely to do so. From a magician's point of view, this would be described as a successful performance by a master of his craft.

We have information from ethnologists and anthropologists about the attitudes of both the audience and the performers of these events. Not surprisingly, it is described both as magic and as trickery. Some of the audience believed wholeheartedly it was magic, whilst others could see how the shaman had used certain hidden techniques to shake the tent. Again, the ritual’s wide distribution and popularity is a testament to its efficacy. Regardless of one's attitude towards the mechanics, the ritual had real value for communities across the globe. Real magic or not, the power was undoubtedly a force to be reckoned with. Indeed, the ritual was banned by law for 70 years.

“In the 1880s, missionaries and Indian agents helped ban and suppress religious practices of First Nations across Canada, including the shaking tent Ceremony practiced by the Blackfoot, Cree, Innu, and Ojibwa, as well as the sun dance. The bans weren't lifted until 1951. Some native people risked jail to preserve their spiritual beliefs. Because of their efforts many of these ceremonies are practiced today.” (CBC.)
  
Davenport brothers by their spirit cabinet.
The description of the shaman's performance of the shaking tent seems to me to be virtually indistinguishable from the activities of the magicians that brought on the Spiritist movement of the late eighteen hundreds. The Spirit cabinet was a staple of magicians, or mediums, as they called themselves. In this presentation the medium was tied up inside a cabinet or behind a curtain, and musical instruments were placed with them, but out of reach. Once the cabinet or curtains were closed, spirits were called upon and music would be produced. When the curtains again opened the medium was still tied up.  
This escape act, for that is what it was, served as proof of the performer's ability to summon and communicate with spirits. 
As with the Native Americans, the attitudes amongst magicians, mediums, spectators and believers varied greatly. Both these examples garnered believers and skeptics. Whilst people like Harry Houdini exposed spiritualists and mediums as fraudsters, countless others found peace through messages rapped out on tables and tambourines played behind curtains. Whatever the techniques used, the effect on believers was real.

Another shamanistic practice described by Mircea Eliade in "Rites and Symbols of Initiation" (1965) is an initiation into manhood of a tribe of Australian Aboriginals.
Central Australian bull roarer.

The boy on the cusp of manhood is instructed about a bad spirit who likes to eat little boys and then tries to revive them. With this in mind, the boy is taken out into the desert where a roaring unearthly sound appears in the distance and the boy is told it is the very bad anthropophagic spirit that at any moment will eat him. 
The men place the boy under a blanket as the sound comes closer. When the sound is right on top of the boy an elder reaches under the blanket and uses a hammer and chisel to knock out one of the boys teeth. On the last day of the rite a fire is lit and the boy is put under the blanket again as the strange sound appears from the dark. It gets louder and louder as it comes closer. When the boy has become suitably terrified, the blanket is removed by the elder and the boy is initiated into the secret knowledge of the ritual. They reveal that the true source of the sound was a bull roarer, a carved flat wooden stick on a string which is spun around over head and in the process it creates a very peculiar sound. The stick whirls around on the end of the string not unlike a propeller of a plane and the sound of it tearing the air is surprisingly formidable. Once the boy is shown the bull roarer it is burnt in the fire and with this the boy is a man.
 I find it quite interesting that the completion of the ritual is the revelation of the deception. Revealed in the correct manner, this does not appear mundane and deflated, but a necessary tool, instilling a very particular and powerful state of mind in the boy.  


 “The shaman’s deception may in this sense be the ‘necessary lie’ that brings others to trust in healing powers – and, thereby contributes toward bringing about the healing experience,” notes Eugene Burger.

“Initiation into adulthood can be equally an initiation into spiritual deception. What is being worked over in the boy is their belief about spiritual reality.” (Robert Neal) The elders introduce the boy to a means of creating a religious experience through a very particular form of deception not meant to further the shaman's interest, but aimed to benefit others, to give them a very particular insight.

If one is to keep an open mind and not harbour foregone conclusions, we can't know for sure whether all shamans practiced deception. Descriptions and studies of rituals and shamanistic demonstrations of supernatural powers certainly do appear to have been steeped in tricks and illusions. Even without such things, the reasoning of showmen versed in the magical arts points in the same direction. Let's ask a conjurer before we re-write the laws of nature. I am not claiming deception in rituals is a negative thing, rather to the contrary. This is, in fact, the point I am trying to make. Slight of hand and illusions are perfect tools to amplify emotional states in crowds. Real or not, the effects are powerful, and their impact on those participating in the rituals are real enough.
The fact that deception has been involved might bring the modern reader disappointment, we can’t seem to see any validity in something known to be fake. This is perhaps the foundations for much of religion and society's obsession with literalism. How can I believe anything, or take anything good from the bible, if its claims that the bat is a bird, or that evolution never happened, are false?

“The seemingly alien conjunction of belief and disbelief may well be quite standard human behavior. It happens most frequently in situations of make-belive. All the arts – performing, liteary, visual – offer the state of make-believe that transcends the opposition of belief and disbelief. Religion has always done it very well indeed.” Robert E Neale.
A whole lot of our world's quarrels and disputes today, and throughout all time, has come from confusing levels of reality. Human beings are symbolic creatures. We engage emotionally in stories and find them fascinating and moving even if we know they are untrue. Whether something is factual or not, whether or not it happened to someone at sometime, does not lessen our experience of a story well-told, or the deep emotional changes it creates in us. A fable told, a fairy tale enjoyed, or a myth recounted to cast light upon a difficult question, can indeed enlighten the listener regardless of whether the animals in the stories actually formed a band, or the Pied Pieper of Hamlin actually drowned an entire town's children. The importance and value of such stories does not lie in their exact wording. It does not matter that each telling differs, for a literal interpretation of the stories are not their real wisdom. The truth lies in their symbolic meaning.
Confusion of the symbolic level of reality with the literal or factual always brings negative consequences. Think only of money. A famous anecdotal Cree Indian saying reminds us:

Only after the last tree has been cut down.
Only after the last river has been poisoned.
Only after the last fish has been caught.
Only then will you find that money cannot be eaten."

It is important to be able to distinguish what’s real from what isn’t. Knowing what belongs in the literal/factual world, and what belongs in the symbolic world, has been a necessary skill at all times. Important for survival both literally and socially. Failing to do so is frowned upon as deception, lie or madness. 

In the shadow lands between real or not, with one foot firmly planted in each world, we find religion, superstition, art and showmanship. 
We have spaces designated for suspension of disbelief. Spaces that Mircea Eliade calls sacred, as opposed to profane, or ordinary, spaces. Sacred spaces are places whit their own sets of rules and where a different . Normal logic and precaution can be left behind, for inside these spaces it is safe to take a leap of faith into the absurd.

Is it real or not?

The carnival is a place where whether something is real or not simply doesn't matter. Here the truth of life is lies least of all in facts. Within the carnival’s perimeter fences leaps of faith are expected and safe. 
This is signified by the carnival high diver atop a thousand foot ladder swaying in the warm summer night. Perched precariously on a little platform far above the carnival lights he stands, and as we see him we know that everything we have learnt about the outside world tells us; if this man jumps, it will end in certain death. Yet still he jumps, and as he crashes into the shallow wooden pool below and triumphantly, death-defiantly, and dripping wet re-emerges, we understand with our hearts and our minds that the Carnival is a symbolic place where different rules apply.

Sabtu, 12 November 2011

Lessons from the Way of the Showman - 56

When you consider the archetypal, historical, and cultural background of whatever you do, it gives you a sense that your occupation can be a calling and not just a job.

Carnytube

Here are some snippets of carny relevant moving pictures that I have found fascinating and hope you all might enjoy.

Carnival Casino, a short film by Carnival Cinema.


An animal act to blow you all away! I am proud to say that I discovered this on a late night exploration of the shady world of russian animal circus. Amongst bear, and hippo acts of dubious nature I found this gem. A goat on a tight rope, with a monkey on its back doing a one armed handstand the goats horn sounds unbelievable, but it is not even the extent of this incredible act.


I am a contortionist and watching this makes me feel stiff and in serious need of practice. Ladies and Gentlemen, the Ross Sisters!


And finally the ultimate one man circus. The first time I saw this I got a lump in my throat as the high wire exited the tent. It is beautfiul and inspiring.


That's all for now folks.

Jumat, 11 November 2011

Følg Drømmene dine


In early october 2010 I brought a bunch of friends with me to Haugesund, Norway and for one night only we became Captain Frodo's Carnival of Dreams. (To read a review in Norwegian click here.) The show was sold out and got a great five star review in the local paper. Further I was contacted by a journalist from Haugesund Avis and asked to write a piece for the paper. What follows here is that piece as it appeared on 13th of October, 2010.

Hope you like and understand it. If your Norwegian is rusty scroll down and click below for a rough translation.

Etter å ha vært borte siden 1996, kom jeg
hjem til Haugesund for en kveld for å
vise hvem jeg har blitt siden sist.
Jeg er ikke lenger bare Frodo Santini,
jeg er også, eller snarere, Captain Frodo,
The Incredible Rubberman. Veien dit var
ikke lett å finne.
Det finnes ikke noe opplæringskontor
som skaffer plass på en gumminannsbedrift.
Vil man, må man være fleksibel og
plukke opp lærdom der man finner det.
Jeg begynte min karriere som assistent i
Santini’s Magishow. Det høres gjerne
stort og imponerende ut. Det var det vel
også, på sin måte, men det var bare meg
og pappa – Store Santini og Santini Junior.
På åttitallet var det oss to som var sirkusmiljøet
i Haugesund.
En så snever interesse reiste mange
spørsmål om mine valg og verdier.
«KoffÃ¥r syns du de e’ sÃ¥ kjekt Ã¥ øva pÃ¥
syke triks?»
"Fiskarane" og Bykjirkå
«Ka ti’ ska’ du fÃ¥ ein skikkelige jobb?’
Spørsmål enhver kunstnersjel stiller
seg selv. Tvilen er der alltid. Nok til å
slukke gløden i et barnehjerte. Jeg
trengte et større sirkusmiljø før gløden
døde. En plass jeg kunne bli akseptert
for den jeg var. Ingen spørsmål stilt.
Den som intet våger, intet vinner. En som
akkurat er blitt ferdig på skolen, har
fullført Ex.phil., har et hode fullt av tanker
og et hjerte som banker for ting som
han tror på, som ikke har studiegjeld
fordi han har gjort gateshow og laget
ballongdyr på det nyåpnede Amanda
senteret – har lite Ã¥ tape.
Dette er en god tid å ta sjanser. Finne
seg selv og gjøre drøm til virkelighet. Å
mane en drøm til liv er en dans på roser.
Myke føtter, skarpe torner. Bloddråper
en ikke kan skille fra knuste rosenblad.
Vondt og vakkert på samme tid.
Edinburgh-festivalen 1998. Jeg har
begynt et gateshow. Jeg setter kofferten
ned og begynner å samle folk. Når jeg
snur meg har noen stjålet kofferten med
alt jeg eier. Pass på tingene, sier Verden.
Jeg bor i en Ford Transit, våkner
febersvett, kondens på veggene. Jeg har
bronkitt. Helst vil jeg sove, men kjører til
Covent Garden. Trenger penger til antibiotika
for å bli kvitt bronkitten.
Etter showet, teller jeg opp det i hatten
og ser at jeg fremdeles ikke har nok.
Skjelven begynner jeg pÃ¥ ‘an igjen. Du
må lage en bedre finale, sier Verden.
Glastonbury-festivalen 2000. Et stappfullt
sirkustelt reiser seg når jeg endelig
slenger tvangstrøya i scenegulvet.
Nå begynner det å komme seg, sier
Verden. Applausen lokker drømmen litt
nærmere virkeligheten.
Haugesund
Som oppdagelsesreisende i sirkusverdenen,
beskrevet på de hvite sidene
bakerst i atlaset, fant jeg litt etter litt
andre som delte min drøm og som ville
henge seg på min ekspedisjon.
Jeg samlet hjelpere med ferdigheter
minst like utrolige som Askeladdens.
Med dem dro jeg drømmen helt inn. Vi
skapte en ny virkelighet.
PÃ¥ flyet til Helganes slumrer jeg. «Du
blir aldri stor i Haugesund» sniker seg
inn i min bevissthet. London, Paris, New
York, ikke noe problem, men Haugesund?
Vil de forstå? Tvilen er der alltid.
Veien ut i det ukjente er lang og
kronglet. En ung kunstner uten form,
med lite å fortelle bortsett fra et rop fra
lengst inne i sjelen.
Utydelige ord med ingen annen
mening enn at de vil bli hørt. Små spirer
The Great Santini Enjoying the show.
av det romantikerne kalte Håpets Blå
Blomst, så sarte og sårbare.
Hvor kult hadde det ikke vært om Haugesund
var et drivhus for disse spirene, og
at haugesunderne var frivillige og entusiastiske
gartnere, så unge spirer slapp å
reise for å vokse seg sterke.
P Byscenen sitter jeg tre meter
over bakken, på toppen av en vaklevoren
stabel blikkbokser.
Captain Frodo’s Carnival of Dreams
spiller en kveld i Haugesund. Jeg ser
publikum tørke svette håndflater på
bukser og kjoler. Stolthet i øynene deres.
De forstår. Jeg er kommet hjem. Full
sirkel. Jeg er akseptert, ingen spørsmål
stilt. Min drøm har blitt virkelig – ogsÃ¥
for dem. En vakker virkelighet de trygt
kan flykte til. En virkelighetsflukt til min
virkelighet.
Følg drømmene dine, mine damer og
herrer. Våg å drøm. Jeg ville bli den
Utrolige Gummimannen – nÃ¥ er jeg det.
Sier jeg fra stabelen.

 For the few of you not quite up on your Norwegian I did a google translate of it for you. (It is funny at times...)

After having been away since 1996, I came home to Haugesund for a night to show who I  have become. I am no longer just Frodo Santini, I am also, or perhaps rather, Captain Frodo, The Incredible Rubberman. Way was not easy to find. There is no vocational office that provide work at a rubberman-shop. If you want to, you have to be flexible and pick up the lesson where you find it. I began my career as an assistant in Santini's Magic Show. It sounds large and impressive and it was too, in its own way, but it was just Dad and me -  the Great Santini and Santini Junior. In the eighties it was us two who were circus environment in Haugesund. Such a narrow interest raised many questions about my choices and values. "How come you like to practice all those sick tricks? " "When are you gonna get a real job?' Question any artist soul asks themselves. Doubt is always there. Enough to put out the glow in a child's heart.  
I needed a bigger circus environment before the glow died. A place I could be accepted for who I was. No questions asked. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. One that just been completed at school, completed Examin philosophicum, a head full of thoughts and a heart that beats for things he believes in, who do not have student loans because he did street shows and made balloon animals at the newly opened Amanda Shopping Centre - has little to lose. This is a good time to take chances. Finding themselves and make the dream a reality. To conjure a dream to life is a bed of roses. Soft feet, sharp thorns. Blood Drops one can not distinguish from crushed rose petals. Painful and beautiful at the same time. 

Edinburgh Festival 1998. I started a street show. I put my suitcase down and start to bring people together. When I turn around, some stolen suitcase witheverything I own. Watch your stuff, says the World. 
I live in a Ford Transit, wake in fever, sweating, condensation on the walls. I have bronchitis. Preferably, I would sleep, rather than drive to Covent Garden but I need money for antibiotics to get rid of the bronchitis. After the show, I count up there in the hatand see that I still do not have enough. Shaky start I 'an again. You must make a better finale, says the World. 
Glastonbury Festival 2000. A packed circus tent rises when I finally throw the straigh jacket on the stage floor. It's getting there, says The World. The Applause entice the dream a littlecloser to reality. 
As an explorer in the circus world, described in the white pages back of the atlas, I found, little by little, others who shared my dream and who would hang on my expedition. I collected helpers with skills at least as amazing as Askeladden's. (Famous Norwegian fairy tale character.) Together with them we pulled my dream into reality.
 

On the plane to Helganes I slumber. "You never get big in Haugesund "sneaks into my consciousness. London, Paris, New York, no problem, but Haugesund? Will they understand in my home town? The doubt is always there. 
The road into the unknown is long and crooked. A young artist without form, with little to say except a cry from the furthest recesses of his mind. Unclear words with no other meaning than that they want to be heard. Small sprouts of what the Romantics called Hope's Blue Flower, so delicate and vulnerable. How cool would it have been if Haugesund was a hotbed for these seedlings, and that Haugesundians were voluntary and enthusiastic gardeners, so the young artist sprouts did not have to journey to grow strong.
At Byscenen I sit three meters above ground, on top of a rickety stack of tin cans. Captain Frodo's Carnival of Dreams has a one night stand with Haugesund. I look out and see someone in the audience wiping sweaty palms on his pants. Pride in their eyes. They understand. I have come home. Full circle. I'm accepted, no questions asked. My dream has come true - even for them. A beautiful reality they can sagely run away to.  Escapeism to my reality.Follow your dreams, ladies and Gentlemen. Dare to dream. I wanted to be the Incredible Rubber Man - and now I am. I say from the stack of cans.

Selasa, 08 November 2011

Lessons from the Way of the Showman - 55


"The Question for the performer in forming an effect should not be “what can I do?” or “How can I use this?” The ultimate question that will lead to truly magical effects must be spectator-centric. 
“What would really freak out a spectator?” What would convince them that I possessed this power?” “What would move them in a particular way?” And "What would they want to see?” Only after answering this, I think, one should ask – “And what then can I provide to take it a step further?”

Derren Brown - (Pure Effect.)  

Minggu, 06 November 2011

Marc Chagall and the Circus


"For me, a circus is a magical spectacle, a passing and dissolving like a little world. There is a disquieting circus, a circus of hidden depths. These clowns, riders, acrobats are imprinted on my sight. Why? Why am I moved by their make-up and their grimaces? With them I travel on toward other horizons. Their colors and their painted masks draw me toward other, strange, psychic forms which I long to paint.

 
Circus! A magical word, a centuries old entertainment parading before us, in which a tear, a smile, a gesture of arm or leg takes on the quality of great art.

 And what do circus people receive in return? A crust of bread. Night brings them solitude and sadness stretching on to the following day until evening, amid a blaze of electric light, heralds a renewal of the old life. For me, the circus is the most tragic of all dramatic performances.

 
Throughout the centuries, its voice has been the most shrill heard in the quest for the amusement and joy of man. Often it takes on a high poetic form. I seem to see a Don Quixote tilting at windmills, like the inspired clown who has known tears and dreams of human love.

 
My circus pitches its Big Top in the sky.
 
It performs among the clouds, 
among the chairs,
 or in the moon-reflecting windows.
 
In the streets a man goes by.
 
He puts out the lights and lamps of the town.
 
The show is over."


Marc Chagall, Circus (1967)


"Chagall saw circus folk as the perfect example of artists who desire to be loved and achieve their dreams. He identified himself with these people and the representations he made of them can be seen as self-portraits."
Chagall’s son, David MacNeil.
 

  "For him, clowns and acrobats always resembled figures in religious paintings... The evolution of the circus works... reflects a gradual clouding of his worldview, and the circus performers now gave way to the prophet or sage in his work—- a figure into whom Chagall poured his anxiety as Europe darkened, and he could no longer rely on the lumiére-liberté of France for inspiration."

Jackie Wullschlager


Lessons from the Way of the Showman - 54


Why do we do it? 
Make up your mind for your intentions will be written on you for the Crowd to see. If so, why not write something beautiful something that will make them think: “There is no lie in this Showman’s Fire.”
Not doing it for the fame or the fortune, but doing shows to help people a bit, to heal them a bit, and to free them a bit. Small steps in the right direction will get you there in the end.
Imagine reading that and knowing it was true…

Sabtu, 05 November 2011

Joseph Carey Merrick - The Elephant Man

Joseph Merrick - The Elephant Man

"The showman—speaking as if to a dog—called out harshly, “Stand up!” The thing arose slowly and let the blanket that covered its head and back fall to the ground. There stood revealed the most disgusting specimen of humanity that I have ever seen. In the course of my profession I had come upon lamentable deformities of the face due to injury or disease, as well as mutilations and contortions of the body depending upon like causes, but at no time had I met with such a degraded or perverted version of a human being as this lone figure displayed."


"From the intensified painting in the street, I had imagined the Elephant Man to be of gigantic size. This, however, was a little man below the average height and made to look shorter by the bowing of his back. The most striking feature about him was his enormous and misshapened head. From the brow there projected a huge bony mass like a loaf, while from the back of the head hung a bag of spongy, fungus-looking skin, the surface of which was comparable to brown cauliflower. On the top of the skull were a few long lank hairs. The osseous growth on the forehead almost occluded one eye. 
The circumference of the head was no less than that of the man’s waist. From the upper jaw there projected another mass of bone. It protruded from the mouth like a pink stump, turning the upper lip inside out and making of the mouth a mere slobbering aperture. This growth from the jaw had been so exaggerated in the painting as to appear to be a rudimentary trunk or tusk. The nose was merely a lump of flesh, only recognizable as a nose from its position. The face was no more capable of expression than a block of gnarled wood. The back was horrible, because from it hung, as far down as the middle of the thigh, huge, sacklike masses of flesh covered by the same loathsome cauliflower skin."

Sir Frederik Treves description in The Elephant man and other reminiscences of his first encounter with Joseph Merrick.

Thoughts surrounding a poem
Joseph's hat/mask

A man should be measured by the soul, but perhaps not from his soul alone. The man with the noblest and loftiest ideals but a temper uncontrollable enough to cause grief and harm to those it might fall upon is but a flawed soul. Man’s actions springs from his mind so through action a soul enters the world and the persons biography becomes the manifestation of their souls.
The biography of Joseph Merrick stands like a lighthouse. He was a man nature gave nothing to guide calloused minds of common men towards his inclusion in the human race, demonstrated so aptly in the famous words screamed out at the mob in David Lynch's 1980 movie.

“I!… am!... Not!... An animal.”

He acts, speaks and lives as a human being even when humanity shuns him. He did not ask to be born this way, but into this world he came. But still in this misery his humanity found its way through the severe physical deformities, through the torture and abuse by exhibitors and so called friends. Inside the Elephant man resided a soul that could not be crushed by all the worlds hardships. A poem from his autobiography adapted by Joseph from Isaak Watts' "False Greatness" expresses his feelings about himself and his formidable appearance with grace and burning beauty.

Cardboard church created by Joseph.
“Tis true my form is something odd,
but blaming me is blaming God;
Could I create myself anew
I would not fail in pleasing you

Was I so tall, could reach the pole,
Or grasp the ocean with a span;
I would be measured by the soul,
The mind’s the standard of the man."

Never could the poet Isaac Watts even in his wildest imaginations, if indeed the ‘father of English Hymnody’ had a wild imagination, just how fantastically apposite his words would become for a  man deemed by his contemporaries to have been “Gods foulest creation” or “Natures grossest mistake.” To the point that today a google search for "False Greatness by Isaac Watts" brings up Joseph Merrick's version rather than Watts' as the first hit.

Never has there been a man more adept at making us behold the durability of the very essence of humanity. With the troubled and deprived life this brave soul led, he should be a reminder for us all that no matter how much deprivation of those things most often imagined as necessities for human happiness should we let it bereave us of upstanding and heroic dignity.

Still from Lynch's movie


Lessons from the Way of the Showman - 53

Barnum and General Tom Thumb
 “This is a trading world, and men, women, and children—who cannot live on gravity alone—need something to satisfy their gayer, lighter moods and hours, and he who ministers to this want is in a business established by the author of our nature. If he worthily fulfills his mission and amuses without corrupting, he need never feel that he has lived in vain.”

P T Barnum 

Jumat, 04 November 2011

Butterfly Circus


A tremendous circus short film. Winner of the first ever Clint Eastwood Filmmaker award and several others. It is a beautifully written, and realized film. Inspiring and truly about the heart of circus, not just a love story set in a circus setting which often is the case with circus films.
It is apparently on its way to become a feature film so keep your eyes out.
Here is their website.



A Child’s dream – The art of the Circus poster

“The circus of the present day is judged by the quality of its paper."

W C Coups promotional Carny Cash
"I believe I ordered the first three-​sheet lithograph ever made… This was considered a piece of foolishness; but when I ordered a hundred-​sheet bill and first used it in Brooklyn it was considered such a curiosity that show people visited the City of Churches for the express purpose of looking at this advertising marvel. How things have changed!”

W C Coup –

Sawdust and spangles, stories and secrets of the circus (1901)




“One of the most beautiful and artful of the posters is “The Barnum & Bailey Greatest Show on Earth:  a Child’s Dream,” 
an 1896 lithograph that depicts a child in bed surrounded by a Bosch-like wreath of circus performers.  The poster dances toward nightmare, with clowns riding ostriches, bears with clown collars standing on one another’s shoulders, a monkey riding a harlequin in a makeshift rodeo, all printed in the rich, fermented colors of a Max Ernst painting.  Collage couldn’t do this:  there’s something both innocently disturbing and disturbingly innocent here, with a text banner at the bottom reading:   
  
“This smiling face is multiplied a million times a year.  Whereas the children’s friend this wondrous show appears:  with sunny gleams of fairyland, with scenes of merriest glee, with cute and cunning animals for either side of the sea.”

"The language is arcane, the imagery antique, but there’s a mysteriousness that transcends purpose, and gives this poster a nostalgic fervor “fine art” doesn’t usually muster.  It’s serendipity:  you the gallery-goer stumbling upon an accidental connection between circus and Surrealism, Barnum & Bailey and contemporary art (the “street art” of Banksey or Shepherd Fairey for instance) that tries to use the forms of advertising (text, printing, hyperbole) but can only come up with thematic irony at best, self-aggrandizement at worst."

"Shadow boxes become poetic theaters or settings wherein are metamorphosed the element of a childhood pastime.”  Joseph Cornell.


 "The sincerity involved in trying to sell the dream to the child gives this poster its enigmatic power, and somehow allows this simple, humble poster a way out of kitsch and into dream.  
It’s the same alchemy Joseph Cornell employed when building his shadow-box paeans to lonely glamorous hotels:  what is publically fashioned as luxury and thrill becomes a secret you keep in order to return to a paradise that really isn’t there, on Earth at least.  Cornell’s shadow-boxes, like many of the posters in “The Amazing American Circus Poster,” depict life as transient and full of moments you can only capture through fantasy, an encyclopedia of cotton-candy mysticism, seediness transcending into longing, and longing melting into trance."

"These posters still mirror desires and excitements that become renditions of what we often forget we need:   
spectacle, absurdity, delight.”



Kamis, 03 November 2011

Lessons from the Way of the Showman - 52


"The rise of modern showbiz began during the seventeenth century, alongside the beginnings of a decline in the power of the Church. It was no coincidence. Prior to that time, the people's entertainment was despised and repressed by the ecclesiastical authorities. Their attitude did not change, they just gradually lost the power to enforce their prejudice. What was it about the medieval jugglers, minstrels, acrobats and rope-dancers that the Church found so objectionable? Did the churchmen suspect that these merry pleasures were the left-overs of an older religion, the remnants of ta once powerful and ancient magical tradition?"

"In order to penetrate the mysteries of showbusiness, we must begin somewhere near the beginnings of human culture. For modern showbiz is, in reality, a huge disguise. It is not as it appears to be..."

Rogan Taylor

Carnival Lullaby



All the world has gone to bed
and the fairground lights gone dead.
Little child its time to sleep,
the night is no reason to weep.

The strongman is drunk and passed out,
nuzzling the sea lions snout.
The Siamese twins called Ying and Yang
slept before the church bells clang.

Sleep my child don’t be afraid.
Rest your head on the pillows brocade.
If you sleep to night I promise true
the world will still be there for you

Don’t believe what the mad jester said,
dear child you’ve been mislead.
The world will go on without end
even if you sleep my friend

For the night is a time for dreams
when nothing is what it seems,
carousel horses flies through fairy floss clouds
high above the crowds

Sleep my child don’t be afraid.
rest your head on the pillows brocade.
If you sleep to night I promise true
the world will still be there for you.