Sad Remnants of a Happy Clown
It's the last night after a week long run of performances in another rundown sh*thole of a town. Two performances every evening. Squeezing out of a tiny car in oversized shoes. Having pies thrown in his painted on happy face and down his threadbare baggy pants. And the endless juggling, japing and joking that are all part of the job.
Three performances on the weekend.
It's 2:00 AM. The night is warm, the air feels thick with a miasma of animal crap and fried food. The bottle of cheap whiskey in his hand is nearly empty, but the loneliness that only one of his kind can know fills his heart. With one last shuddering gasp, one more involuntary spasm and a final shudder... His masterpiece is finished.
Morning is filled with sounds of deconstruction. The bigtop looks as though it's deflating as the tent poles come down. There is a susurration throughout the tight knit community of acrobats, animal trainers, trapeze artists, tightrope walkers, fire eaters, gymnasts and freaks as they look for, but never ever find their beloved jester. The only item ever found was this Masterpiece, this pièce de résistance, this painting.
'Sad Remnants of a Happy Clown'
Acrylics on Stretched Canvas
36"x36"x2 High and Wide and Deep
Acrylics on Stretched Canvas
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