Client
: VerSache the Barbarian comic book (the
'e unum pluribus' editions) in
association with Ian
Versace.
Medium : Pen
and Ink sketch (Digital
composition) 28cm by 23.05cm
Desceased Clown character Scanned and enhanced
in
Adobe Photoshop 2004 a.d
Design Notes
: Byron VerSache,
a decendant of the legendary
VerSache the Barbarian is a depressed and
pathetic individual. Possibly the only member
of the Clan VerSache never to surf. As a career
choice, the clown was probably the worst choice
Byron could have made-just not funny.
A recent British survey
of children in hospital wards revealed an almost universal
hatred of clowns.
Can't say I'm shocked, given that I've been vaguely
aware of anti-clown sentiment for some time. What did surprise
me, however, was both the depth of the dislike revealed in the
survey, and even more so, the veritable orgy of venomous clown-hating
that is to be found on the Internet.
This stuff's too much for even clown-hating kids.
You can start with www.ihateclowns.com,
where the proprietor's animus toward painted faces and floppy feet gets
downright, well, clownish. "I wish that all clowns had to go down
to DMV at the same time to register their silly clown cars," he
writes, banishing the lot of them to a fate worse than eternal damnation.
Another clown hater goes so far as to call clowns "evil" … and
offers up a horrific picture gallery to prove his point.
There's an online game called "I
Hate Clowns."
Clown haters who nonetheless embrace
clown imagery.
Psychobabble from clown haters about why
people become clowns (think self-loathing, if you haven't already
guessed).
Wildly disjointed clown-hate talk such as: "My philosophy on clowns
and BBQ."
And clown hatred fueled by random encounters with clowns on public
transit. This one calls for an
excerpt:
I must have looked like a major tight-ass, because there were kids
all around looking at me and laughing. The bloody clown was making
a laughing-stock of me. One of the worst feelings in the world is
being laughed at by a group of children. Especially when their ringleader
is a clown. It gave me the cold sweats and brought back all kinds
of unpleasant childhood memories of soiled pants on baseball diamonds
at the bottom of the ninth inning. That was a bitter day.
Soundtrack (music to draw circus performers
to) : Best of
the Kinks - The Kinks
My
makeup is dry and it clags on my chin.
I'm drowning my sorrows in whisky and gin.
The lion tamer's whip doesn't crack anymore.
The lions they won't fight and the tigers won't roar.
La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
So let's all drink to the death of a clown
Won't someone help me to break up this crown.
Let's all drink to the death of a clown.
Let's all drink to the death of a clown.
The old fortune teller lies dead on the floor.
Nobody needs fortunes told anymore.
The trainer of insects is crouched on his knees
And frantically looking for runaway fleas.
La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Let's all drink to the death of a clown.
So won't someone help me to break up this crown.
Let's all drink to the death of a clown.
La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Let's all drink to the death of a clown.
La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
