February 22, McAllen.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
The Fusco family.
February 22, McAllen.
The Fusco family arrived late Wednesday. They'll be working with us for two months.
The patriarch of the family was once one of the best malambo performers in Argentina (malambo is a traditional dance there,) according to our friend Tito, who has known him all their circus lives. Tito has been staying nearby in Rio Hondo since Chimera closed; we've been seeing him.
The Fuscos were with Kelly Miller for a few days last year, I'd seen them at Chimera before that. They do two acts: a malambo act where they're all together, and a juggling act with only the twin brothers and the two younger sisters as sidekicks. We've worked with yet other Fusco siblings over the years.
They come in and out of the picture of our traveling life with a kind of erratic regularity, a reflection of the offbeat small-world character of the circus.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Evolution.
February 20, McAllen.
We are parked near the McAllen Convention Center, a sprawling complex that includes a mall, lots of parking spaces and a war memorial with black marble slabs, some blank. We were at this exact location three years ago with Chimera; it was a vacant lot with a hull of a building in the middle of scorched scrub grass, crews planting palm trees and shrubs along the recently emerging streets.
The shrubs are grown but the scorched earth is not far.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Perfectly unnecessary.
February 18, McAllen.
Whenever I need a rest from all the ugliness and all the noise I pay a visit to The Errant Aesthete, a blog so delightful, intelligent and perfectly unnecessary it's like chocolate for the eyes - delicious.
Whenever I need a rest from all the ugliness and all the noise I pay a visit to The Errant Aesthete, a blog so delightful, intelligent and perfectly unnecessary it's like chocolate for the eyes - delicious.
A trailer with a (reverse) view.
February 18, McAllen.
(We turned around so that the front door wasn't facing the street, for the kids' sake.)
Maxims.
February 18, McAllen.
Ah, the maxims again.
Tonight's was: "Much effort, much prosperity. Euripides."
A useful ideal, but arguably remote if you happen to have been born, say, a girl in the slums of Bangladesh (or Congo, or Bolivia.)
We moved at night, presumably because, if I remember well from our Chimera days, traffic is horrible along highway 77/83 in this area.
Ah, the maxims again.
Tonight's was: "Much effort, much prosperity. Euripides."
A useful ideal, but arguably remote if you happen to have been born, say, a girl in the slums of Bangladesh (or Congo, or Bolivia.)
We moved at night, presumably because, if I remember well from our Chimera days, traffic is horrible along highway 77/83 in this area.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Two good clowns.
February 16, Los Fresnos.
I started shooting for the 2009 program today, wanting to make up for last year's karma. The clowns were an obvious choice because they're usually the easiest thing to capture.
They are Steve Copeland and Ryan Combs and they make me laugh.
I don't like clowns and only one has really made me laugh out loud in the past: Guennadi Tregoub, Chimera's artistic director of many years. (Our friend Genia did too, but his was a different kind of act, relying more on poetry than pure comic punch.)
They make me laugh.
Theirs is a slapstick, hit-in-the-face kind of humor, in the time-honored tradition of my childhood hero, Charlie Chaplin, and this seemingly effortless art is one of the hardest to pull off without falling into vulgarity or tired repetition.
They make me laugh.
Just saying that is everything.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Natalie.
February 16, Los Fresnos.
Natalie is almost eight months pregnant and doing good. Casey won't let her work in the ring; he does the American eskimos act for her.
She still practices though, and was out with her dogs this morning.
It's a girl.
More than a photographer.
February 16, Los Fresnos.
A friend from the University of Missouri-Columbia School of Journalism recently came back into my life. A mother of two small boys, too, Mary Beth Meehan has been working for a few years on a project to document her home-town of Brockton, Massachusetts, and her images, thoughtful, personal, arresting, reveal many of the tensions at work in America today and are made all the more relevant by the current crisis the nation is facing.
A friend from the University of Missouri-Columbia School of Journalism recently came back into my life. A mother of two small boys, too, Mary Beth Meehan has been working for a few years on a project to document her home-town of Brockton, Massachusetts, and her images, thoughtful, personal, arresting, reveal many of the tensions at work in America today and are made all the more relevant by the current crisis the nation is facing.
The winning picture.
February 16, Los Fresnos, Texas.
The World Press Photo awards, an annual competition and the Oscars of the profession the world over, were announced on Friday in Amsterdam.
The awards are given in categories ranging from news to nature, and there is also a World Press Photo of the Year, capping them all. This year it was won by Anthony Suau, a wonderful photographer as well as, if I remember him well from my days as assistant coordinator for another photojournalism contest, a genuinely nice guy.
The picture shows a rather shocking foreclosure scene.
The World Press Photo awards, an annual competition and the Oscars of the profession the world over, were announced on Friday in Amsterdam.
The awards are given in categories ranging from news to nature, and there is also a World Press Photo of the Year, capping them all. This year it was won by Anthony Suau, a wonderful photographer as well as, if I remember him well from my days as assistant coordinator for another photojournalism contest, a genuinely nice guy.
The picture shows a rather shocking foreclosure scene.
It's official.
February 16, Los Fresnos.
The first route of the season said: "Thanks to everyone for your extra work, making this the BIGGEST opening in Kelly Miller Circus history."
Very short trip, half what the route said.
The first route of the season said: "Thanks to everyone for your extra work, making this the BIGGEST opening in Kelly Miller Circus history."
Very short trip, half what the route said.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Catherine.
February 15, Brownsville.
My mother came home to the news that a good friend of hers had just been diagnosed with advanced breast cancer.
Catherine Cousin-Zouaoui is the most gentle, giving, beautiful woman I have ever known. The idea of her always brought peace to my heart. She's 52 years old and has two sons as close in age as Dylan and Nicolas, now young adults. When my brothers and I were little and she was still living near her parents in the south of France where we were neighbors she used to baby-sit us once in a while. For years mentioning her name inevitably reminded me of one of the few childhood memories I have, that of her chanting playfully to nudge the tiny Fiat she was driving, nicknamed "the yogurt can," as it was struggling up the street leading to our house, us three kids crowded in the back stomping our feet in delight all the way to the top of the impossibly steep hill.
Catherine has hair down to her waist and has had it so ever since we've known her. Her hair is her pride and joy, after her family and her work as a speech therapist at one of Paris' leading public hospitals. She is devastated as much by the unexpected news of her cancer as by the fact that she will not be able to attend to her patients for the foreseeable future as she faces surgery, radiation and chemotherapy all at the same time.
My heart grieves.
My mother came home to the news that a good friend of hers had just been diagnosed with advanced breast cancer.
Catherine Cousin-Zouaoui is the most gentle, giving, beautiful woman I have ever known. The idea of her always brought peace to my heart. She's 52 years old and has two sons as close in age as Dylan and Nicolas, now young adults. When my brothers and I were little and she was still living near her parents in the south of France where we were neighbors she used to baby-sit us once in a while. For years mentioning her name inevitably reminded me of one of the few childhood memories I have, that of her chanting playfully to nudge the tiny Fiat she was driving, nicknamed "the yogurt can," as it was struggling up the street leading to our house, us three kids crowded in the back stomping our feet in delight all the way to the top of the impossibly steep hill.
Catherine has hair down to her waist and has had it so ever since we've known her. Her hair is her pride and joy, after her family and her work as a speech therapist at one of Paris' leading public hospitals. She is devastated as much by the unexpected news of her cancer as by the fact that she will not be able to attend to her patients for the foreseeable future as she faces surgery, radiation and chemotherapy all at the same time.
My heart grieves.
Circus blessings.
February, 14, Brownsville.
It's just past ten o clock at night and the fourth show of the day is under way.
It is full, like the other three.
The shows were shortened and the order changed so that they could follow each other every two hours. The last show will end at midnight; performers and crew alike have been working since three this afternoon, without so much as a break for dinner.
John R. North, Kelly Miller's owner, was considerate enough to call a meeting at noon to confirm the fourth show and thank everyone for pitching in. John Moss went on reminding everyone to count their circus blessings, since things might be fairly rougher later on in the season, and indeed the economic crisis looms large in everyone's mind, here as everywhere.
It helps that Mr. North's speech also included the words extra cash.
It's just past ten o clock at night and the fourth show of the day is under way.
It is full, like the other three.
The shows were shortened and the order changed so that they could follow each other every two hours. The last show will end at midnight; performers and crew alike have been working since three this afternoon, without so much as a break for dinner.
John R. North, Kelly Miller's owner, was considerate enough to call a meeting at noon to confirm the fourth show and thank everyone for pitching in. John Moss went on reminding everyone to count their circus blessings, since things might be fairly rougher later on in the season, and indeed the economic crisis looms large in everyone's mind, here as everywhere.
It helps that Mr. North's speech also included the words extra cash.
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