I wandered around Kensington Maryland from Howard Avenue, where we bought our first dining room table, to the Apothecary, one of my favorite places to find homeopathic remedies, and then to the Antique Village. I moved slowly, carefully taking in all the energy of the old furniture, trinkets, jewelry, books and memorabilia. Then I saw him, the clown. I knew I had to paint him. I felt his energy. I understand clowns get a bad rap, and everyone is afraid of them. But I saw something beyond the “creepy antique clown” that moved me. Worn away paint, exposing the beautiful wood that made him, a soiled worn outfit, telling me he was once someone’s happy toy. A perfectly preserved smile, although his shoes were worn, and his leg twisted, appearing broken. 

I wanted to give him a name, fix him up, tell him he is not scary to me, protect him and explain to him, it’s a new world where people do not like old things. I am painting his portrait, and honoring a forgotten time. Somehow I also am realizing there is an invisible line that ties me to the circus.

This is to be investigated in future paintings.