Sinister Clown Ornament

I was surrounded by clowns my entire childhood, literally and figuratively. My father dressed as a clown and walked his imaginary dog in local parades for years. He approached it with an enthusiastic, kid-like joy. His imaginary dog was even known to pee on passersby via a small handheld siphon pump tucked up his sleeve for special effect. Sometimes, his father, brothers, brother-in-law, uncle, nephews, and friends joined him. We had costumes for all of them. It was a family affair. I’ve even dressed as a clown several times for Halloween, so coulrophobia (fear of clowns) was not likely to ever plague me. Yet, as a small child, I was horror-struck by clowns when my father took our family backstage at Ringling Brothers, Barnum and Bailey Circus to tour Clown Alley. My father’s membership in the Amateur Clowns of America International afforded us this privilege. When we arrived, the clowns were plain, ordinary people meandering around jovially in their boxer shorts and wife-beaters. That alone could have traumatized kids from a conservative family, but my sister and I were unaffected. Then, they perched themselves on stools in front of tall mirrors framed with bright lightbulbs. They began meticulously and methodically applying their faces and donned their elaborate costumes with a seriousness we hadn’t previously seen. It was as if they were entirely different people. When the tiny clown car rounded the corner and a cluster of clowns rolled out like rats from a sardine can, I crumbled. I burst into tears, and we never toured Clown Alley again. When I made this ornament, I channeled some of those past experiences. I used the design of my father’s signature clown face, which had the same colors but in a different configuration, as a nod to him. I hope you like it.