Circus Chimera — lure and legend

From Hugo, Oklahoma, to Paris, Texas, a photographic odyssey documenting the lives of contortionists, tightrope walkers and aerialists 

Photographs and words by Norma I Quintana

UNITED STATES — On a hot summer’s day I happened across a flyer announcing that a one-ring circus was in town. To my surprise, a tent had been set up near my home in California.

I approached the pop-up ticket trailer on the grounds when it was uber quiet and asked if I could speak to the person in charge. Here I met the circus owner, Jim Judkins. I explained my interest in photographing the circus, and he pointed me in the direction of Douglas and Oliver, brothers who were part of a larger family act, the Rodogels Brothers Trapeze Act. They were insiders, Jim told me, and if they introduced me to the others, I would be in. That’s where it all began. 

I found out that Jim had always dreamt of having a circus and started his career out of Hugo, Oklahoma, in the middle of the country. He named it Circus Chimera. 

Olga, a quick-change artist

That summer I quickly became attached to the circus and spent a lot of time getting to know acrobats, aerial flyers, contortionists, tightrope walkers and jugglers. It felt like being part of a large family with relatives from different countries; Russia, Canada, Mexico, China. I began seeking out a particular member of each family, usually someone younger, to translate for me. I showed up day after day throughout the season, and after a while they got to know me. The children called me the Photo Lady.

After a show, many of the performers ate their dinners together and if there was ever a birthday or an anniversary it was celebrated after hours. Once a month there was an event called “CRAZY CIRCUS!”, a show for the performers themselves. It was an opportunity for them to entertain their families and friends, and it was wonderfully funny, with lots of in-jokes. Even my young daughter took part in a couple of acts. 

I often sat with the artists by the cookhouse tent. The circus offered basic food for everyone; if you wanted something extra you had to get it yourself. I ate a lot of rice and beans. I also spent time with the families in their RVs and travelling vehicles, which was wonderful since it would be so hot outside that I welcomed a place to cool off and rest.

The interiors of people’s travelling homes were simple and I noticed they had bolted family photographs to the walls — photographs of previous generations of performers. Space was limited, but they always invited me to sit with them. Travelling homes came in different shapes and sizes depending on how many people were in the family. Often people would extend their living space to outside with chairs, and of course bits of their equipment, such as hula hoops or aerial straps.

Their lives were so normal off-stage. Even the most beguiling star needs to do their laundry, shop for groceries or see their doctor.

"Ginger fell when her safety rig failed while performing a new aerial act. I thought her career was over, but she is now a premier aerialist with Cirque du Soleil"

Most relationships and even marriages were a result of being in the circus. Every season I found out about hook-ups and break-ups. And just like on a movie set, some relationships were seasonal. Many of the children were born on the road because of the circus schedule. One of the mothers told me that her daughter was born in Paris and I replied: “Really, how did you happen to be in France?” She said: “No, Paris, Texas, USA.” 

The younger children would practise with their parents. If they fell they were encouraged to get up and do their act again, as if there was no room for fear. I soon learnt that circus performers live their lives by split seconds. For aerialists, their job depended on being able — twice daily, rain or shine — to turn a triple somersault.

"I met Devanira soon after she had her baby, Doricela — her joy was immense. Her daughter is now a teenager and performs with the family as a hula-hooper

The circus travelled all year round, with December used to visit family and settle in before a new year. Performers went home to Las Vegas, Nevada, Oklahoma or to visit their families abroad. 

After my first summer with the circus, I knew I would return every year. For more than a decade, I would show up whenever the circus came within a hundred miles of my home. I would load my Hasselblad with black-and-white film and travel with them for weeks, often with my two young children in tow. To most, the circus represents the sideshow, the front gate and the Big Top. For me, the circus represented its people and the nomadic way of life. 

Yarn Car by Tim Klein

From the Art Cars series — one man's obsession with America's mobile masterpieces

Photographs by Harrod Blank

OREGON — I’ve always been a left-brained computer guy rather than an artist — I’m a mild-mannered software engineer — but my girlfriend painted with acrylics and she explained that acrylic paint is simply coloured liquid plastic. The next day, while taking a shortcut through the fabric section of a store, I happened to notice the words “100% acrylic” on the label of a skein of yarn. Something clicked in my brain and it occurred to me that yarn could be used as fuzzy paint. That night I dreamed I was driving a fuzzy car. The seed had been planted! 

Within a week, I had bought the biggest, flattest car I could find: a neglected 1967 Chrysler Imperial. I spent several months covering its surface with five miles of acrylic yarn, one strand at a time, in meticulous linear patterns. That was 14 years ago. I’ve had to strip and replace the worn-out coat three times.

I own two cars: the Yarn Car, and a plain black auto that’s so boring I call it the “Yawn Car”. On any given day, I decide whether to drive the Yarn Car or the Yawn Car, depending on whether I’m feeling outgoing enough to talk to inquisitive strangers. 

I wasn’t prepared for the effect the Yarn Car would have on the public. I drive it as a regular car, on road trips or to go to the grocery store, and it’s as if I’m in a parade every day. People are so taken aback at the sight of a yarn-covered car that they forget all shyness and instantly start talking to a stranger about it.

I’ve spoken with thousands of smiling, happy people who I never otherwise would have met. Over the years, the Yarn Car has been seen by millions of people in person at parades and shows and at random on the street, and by tens of millions in the press. I figure if just one out of every ten people who encounter the car gets a kick out of it, then my humble fuzzy creation must have brought several million smiles into the world so far.

Andrew Logan's Alternative Miss World

A fancy dress contest inspired by Crufts (a British dog show), established by Andrew Logan in 1972

In the early 1970s, the artist Andrew Logan had an idea for a party. It would not be about beauty, it would be about transformation. The Alternative Miss World would allow anyone to enter: men and women on equal footing: racial parity in a pre-cosmopolitan London; sexuality set free in a million guises. And everyone would be judged on the same criteria as the dogs at Crufts: poise, personality and originality.

Since the first event in Andrew’s flat in Hackney, in 1972, the Alternative Miss World has set the stage for some of the world’s most creative spirits to gather — with past guests, hosts and competitors including everyone from Derek Jarman, David Hockney and Zandra Rhodes to Grayson Perry, Divine, Leigh Bowery and the stars of the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Accent Issue Two pays tribute to this long-running celebration of self-expression by unearthing some gems from the photo archive. 

Andrew Logan at the first Alternative Miss World in 1972

The Alternative Miss World, est. 1972

1972

Where — Downham Road, Hackney

In attendance — David Hockney, Derek Jarman, Keith at Smile, Hermine Demoriane

Winner — Miss Yorkshire (Patrick Steed) 

Fact — Jack Hazan filmed the party and used a sequence as the party scene in his film about David Hockney, A Bigger Splash

Miss Holland Park Walk (Eric Roberts), the winner in 1973
Photograph: JD Matthews

1973

Where — Downham Road, Hackney

In attendance — Zandra Rhodes, Ossie Clark, Angie Bowie, David Bailey, Richard O’Brien, Tim Curry and Little Nell

Winner — Miss Holland Park Walk (Eric Roberts) 

Fact — The first AMW crown, made of cardboard and UHU glue, was presented here. The sceptre was wire and tinsel

1975 

Where — Butler’s Wharf, Bankside

Theme — Wild

In attendance — Fenella Fielding, Malcolm McLaren, Vivienne Westwood

Winner — Miss Crêpe Suzette (Derek Jarman)

Fact — Miss Holland Park Walk threw Molly Parkin in the pool

Luciana Martinez de la Rosa, 1978
Photograph: Robyn Beeche

1978

Where — A circus tent, Clapham Common

Theme — Circus

In attendance — Divine and Molly Parkin (hosts), Duggie Fields, Michael Fish, Joan Bakewell

Winner — Miss Carriage, Miss Linda Carriage (Stevie Hughes) 

Fact — AMW goes public. A film of it landed Andrew in court

1981

Where — The Grand Hall, Kensington Olympia

Theme — Imperial fantasy/royal imperial

In attendance — Janet Street-Porter, Fran Fullenwider

Winner — Miss Aldershot (Michael Haynes) 

Fact — Just before the Falklands War. The winner, in military dress, was accompanied by the Massed Band of the Irish Guards

1985

Where — Brixton Academy

Theme — Water

In attendance — Billy Connolly, Naim Attallah

Winner — Miss R.O.S.A.B.O.S.O.M. (a robot built by Bruce Lacey) 

Fact — Andrew’s brother Richard designed its waterfall backdrop

Fat Gill and Leigh Bowery in 1986
Photograph: Robyn Beeche

1986

Where — Brixton Academy

Theme — Earth

In attendance — Leigh Bowery, Koo Stark, John Maybury

Winner — Miss National Geographic (Jenny Runacre)

Fact — The local paper in Chislehurst, Kent, protested against the event being held there, claiming it would “bring AIDS” 

Andrew Logan and co-host Rula Lenska in 1991
Photograph: Robyn Beeche

1991

Where — Business Design Centre, Islington

Theme — Air

In attendance — Rula Lenska, Brian Eno, Nick Rhodes

Winner — Miss Gale Force Wind (Burnel Penhaul, “the Transformer”) 

Fact — Held in daytime in the year the museum opened

Kinky Gerlinky Cabaret, 1991

1995

Where — The Grand, Clapham Junction

Theme — Fire

In attendance — Anita Roddick, Andrey Bartenev

Winner — Mademoiselle Jean D’Arc (Molly Burnel) 

Fact — The year the Russians came, led by Bartenev. “They are particularly supportive,” says Andrew

1998

Where — 291 Gallery (a converted church), Hackney

Theme — The void

In attendance — Janet Turner, Maggi Hambling, Rajeev Sethi

Winner — Miss Pani Bronua 

Fact — This time the Russians won it. Pani Bronua, a woman in her seventies, wowed the crowd with her personality

2004

Where — The Hippodrome, Leicester Square

Theme — The universe

In attendance — Amanda Barrie, Patricia Quinn, Julian Clary, Matthew Glamorre, Michael Kostiff

Winner — Miss Secret Sounds of Sunbird Rising, CCCP 

Fact — The show was dedicated to Andrew’s parents

2009

Where — The Roundhouse, Camden

Theme — The elements

In attendance — Ruby Wax, Ken Russell

Winner — Miss Fancy Chance (Veronica Thompson) 

Fact — The run-up to the event was recorded for Jes Benstock’s 2011 documentary, The British Guide to Showing Off

2014

Where — Shakespeare’s Globe, the South Bank

Theme — Neon numbers

In attendance — Grayson Perry, Angela Flowers, Daniel Lismore

Winner — Miss Zero + (Sasha Frolova)

Fact — Andrew’s sister, Janet, competed in her 13th pageant. She hasn’t won — yet

The Alternative Miss World will return in 2018

The solars of Cuba

Photographs by Carolina Sandretto

HAVANA, CUBA — A tumultous history over the past half-century has created a shortage of new housing in Cuba. While the regime provides education and food for its citzens, people are forced to live in the same houses as their families because they lack the means or permissions to build new ones. 

The housing shortage has led to the creation of buildings across the island known as “solars”. Originally designed to house single families, these crumbling 19th-century apartments have been divided into single-room occupancies where entire families — spanning different generations — eat, sleep and live together. 

Southern Cavalry

Devence, Dwayne, Jessie, Rob and Little Shorty — the young urban cowboys of New Orleans.

Photographs by Akasha Rabut
Words by Sam Feather Garner

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The Game Changers and friends before a New Orleans second line parade 

Early on a Sunday morning in New Orleans, the street cleaners arrive on Bourbon Street and the last stragglers leave the bars. Some families are dressing for church, but others are primping themselves in a different sort of Sunday best, in preparation for the day’s second line parade. They are putting the finishing touches on elaborate bright costumes and applying make-up while brass bands assemble. Across the Mississippi river in Bridge City, the Game Changers, a group of twentysomethings wearing boots and white T-shirts, are at the stables to groom their horses. While most of the city thinks about brunch, they load the horses into trailers to drive to the twelve o’clock second line.

Second line culture is deeply rooted, and can be traced back to New Orleans’ funeral traditions. To afford a brass band, procession, and burial, black families would pool resources, forming social aid clubs. Members paid dues and paraded together; in turn, when their time came, they were ensured the same dignified procession and a proper burial. These clubs exist today as pleaure clubs. Every Sunday during the season, one of the clubs, with names like the Young Olympians, Zulu, and the Sidewalk Steppers, dress in flamboyant colours and parade through their neighborhood with a brass band, throwing a slow moving dance party that stops at members’ and friends’ businesses as it winds through the streets. This is a second line.

Devence, left, and Dwayne at their stables in Childs Arena, Bridge City

A horseman at a trail ride

Hundreds of people join in, greatly outnumbering the pleasure club. The gatherings are free dance parties, informal fashion shows, and neighborhood networking events — central to the social lives of many black New Orleanians. People dress to impress: it’s easy to find men in three-piece suits, women with 2in fingernails, elaborate sculptural hair and custom RIP T-shirts. Motorcycle clubs assemble; shiny muscle cars and vintage Cadillacs roll by. Certain people become local celebrities, such as the snake man or the kid with the penny-farthing bicycle. They are famous without anyone knowing their name, and the Game Changers are no different.

Unlike a motorcycle or a fabulous outfit, however, horses need to be fed, stabled and groomed, and trained to behave in the hectic environment. The responsibility of keeping the animals is enormous. The Game Changers embrace the work as a part of their lifestyle, along with riding at second lines. People expect them; they are part of the attraction.

Every October, the Game Changers travel west for a trail ride. Ten thousand people gather from all over the South for camping, zydeco music and socialising. On the final day the cowboys ride together, following behind a truck pulling massive speakers. Thousands of horses jostle through the woods with their tipsy riders shouting over the music. The Game Changers ride to represent New Orleans and their urban, less traditional approach to being a black cowboy. Their horses are used to commotion, and aren’t spooked. For Devence, the de facto leader, and fellow cowboys Jessie and Dwayne, the scene isn’t so different from a second line.

Devence grooms his horse, Cane, before a Mardi Gras parade

The Game Changers are young men, but they have inherited a black cowboy tradition of entertaining. Ask, and Devence brings up his idol Bill Pickett, a famous black cowboy and rodeo rider born in 1870. Nor are they the first to show off horses at second lines, a practice that has been in slow decline for decades. As a fixture at second lines, the club hopes to spark youth interest in horses. Families photograph them, pose with them in selfies. Skittish children are urged by parents to stroke the animals’ necks. With every Sunday that passes, the Game Changers are keeping a culture alive and helping define it.

Jessie with Dream

Booga Car by Daniel Winkert

From the Art Cars series — one man's obsession with America's mobile masterpieces

Photographs by Harrod Blank

I live in New Orleans, where I’m an architect with a wife and two kids. My art car Booga was a rethinking of Mardi Gras in the city, and especially how we deal with the enormous amount of waste that is collected after it takes place. 

The car is covered in Mardi Gras beads, many of which I collected right out of the gutter during or after the parades. I also spent hours harassing tourists on the street to give me their necklaces. I loved working on the car with friends – it was a collaboration of about eight people working together.

Booga was my daily driver for several years, but unfortunately it flooded in Hurricane Katrina and is no more. I still have a painted VW bus, but it’s not anything as special as Booga was. 

I first got into art cars by going to Burning Man in '98 and got interested in participatory art making. To be honest it was more of the festival as a whole than the art cars at the festival that got me interested.

My car, Booga, is about a rethinking of Mardi Gras in New Orleans, especially how we deal with the tremendous amount of waste that is collected during mardi gras. This was a way to reuse some of the enormous amounts of stuff that gets thrown away during mardi gras. I collected a lot of beads for the car right out of the gutter during and after parades. I also got beads from people on the street, and purchased some (when I needed particular colors) from an organization that raises money for developmentally disabled adults by repackaging and selling used beads.

Unfortunately, my car is no more, as it flooded in Hurricane Katrina. I drove it to Houston for the Art Car parade a couple of years in a row, as well as a couple of mardi gras parades. It was my daily driver for several years.

I am an architect in New Orleans, I now have a wife and two kids. I still have a painted VW bus, but its not anything as special as Booga was.

My favorite memories? Probably the art car parades in Houston, spending hours on the street harassing tourists to give me there beads for the car, and working on the car with friends (It was a collaboration of about 8 people working together).