Here we have a piece I wrote back in December of 2010, about my personal views on circus aesthetics. I was trying to formulate what my own circus show would look like, and this is what came about!

My circus aesthetic is, I like to think, a reflection of a certain lifestyle once held by circus performers.

It's dirty and a little morally suspect.

It's the Great Depression, Dust Bowl, holes-in-the-soles-of-your-shoes feeling of grit and weird, unexpected familial ties.

It's a group of strong individuals who, somehow, create a close-knit team, pulling through hardships with mutual respect (and possibly a hip flask).

It's jazzy and sexy and gives you dirt under your fingernails.

It's tap dancing.

It's brash, but cute. Perhaps a little bit noir.

Faded sequins and drooping feather headdresses – the most talented men and women in the world, largely ignored by a population that is unwilling or unable to venture out to see them in their magnificence.

It's smoke-and-booze-afflicted singing, tuneless pianos, and enthusiastic accordions.

It's a series of rattling train cars, billowing coal-smoke, and steam.

It's garter belts and dust-covered high heels.

Lipstick and rouge and a fake mole.

The tattooed lady and the strong man on their cigarette break.

That eerie, creeping calliope.

That's what -jazz- circus means to me.

There's that. The word "jazz" is supposed to be struck out, but I couldn't figure out how to make that work here. If anyone knows if that's possible, do let me know.

Thanks!

~Morgana