Narratives

A Parable

     In the grasslands of Florida, the South-Eastern most region in the United States, there exists an unusual and curious event.  A worker ant departs from its home to perform its tasks as a member of its community.  The ant combs the surrounding area in search of food.  During exploration it implants pheromones in the ground, like trail markers, to find its way back home.  While searching the surrounding surface, the unsuspecting ant ingests a mushroom spore.  The spore lodges itself into the ant's tiny brain.  The liquid fertilizes the spore and miraculously it begins to grow.  The ant grows disoriented, his own pheromones can no longer be detected.  A delirium sets in and the ant races about in pain and agony.  Suddenly, as if stricken with a vision, the ant begins to climb toward the highest point the grass will allow.  Upon reaching its destination, it implants its legs into the grass and dies.  The spore, now fertilized and growing, forces its way through the ant's head and grows forth unto maturity.  When fully developed the mushroom releases its spores to be carried down to the earth surface awaiting ingestion by unsuspecting ants.

From:  Mr. Wilson's Cabinet of Curiosities.

What you are about to read is an essay, a work of fiction, an art piece, and a metaphor.
This is my artistic practice.

The carnival sideshow arrived 3:23 Thursday afternoon.  I had been anxiously awaiting its arrival at the edge of town since 8:00 in the morning; scanning the flat horizon for an approaching caravan.  At 3:17, in the far distance, I saw a snake like chain of dots slivering its way in my direction.  The dots appeared to be hovering just above the surface of the ground, as if floating toward their destination.  But, the direction from which they were approaching has no roads, only farmers' fields.  I rubbed my eyes and looked again; there was nothing.  I gave a little laugh, dismissing it as wishful thinking.  I then lowered myself to a rock and gazed upward.  The clouds were moving rapidly and taking up an orange hue.  Being a native of Kansas, I have experienced  a lot of severe weather, but this orange was something different.  I continued my upward gaze when the clouds began to spin in a great circle.  "Tornado;" I  decided to find some shelter. 
As I rose to my feet a sudden bolt of lightning raced from the sky hitting somewhere behind me. The roar of thunder exploded instantaneously in an earth shaking vibrato.  I was literally knocked off my feet to the ground.  As the sound dissipated I heard the clanging melody of a crank box.  Still in an electric shock, I maneuvered my body as well as I could towards the direction of the sound.  When my eyes focused, there, practically upon me, was the carnival caravan.  I scrambled to my feet and stared in disbelief.  How could I not have seen them coming? 
It was 3:23, when the first carriage was pulled by.  Despite it being 1989, this carnival toured in turn-of-the-century horse drawn carriages.  The carriages were ornately carved and embellished with color,i and the drivers wore suits typical of the 1890s.ii  The historic flair placed me in a bewildered state, like some form of time displacement had just occurred.  I smiled in my bafflement, transfixed on the magical parade in front of me.  Nostalgia covered me like a warm blanket.
One by one I read the alluring titles painted on the carriages: "Lumination", "Magnetism", "Elasticity."  When the 23rd carriage had passed I saw a man in a tall hat tailing the procession.  We made eye contact and he approached.  He wore a vintage tuxedo, once black in color but now a rusty brown.  His eyes were deep and glossed and a thin but long, red goatee electrified his chin.  He stood in front of me and said nothing, but reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a small vile with writing inscribed on it.  He held it up, as if to examine its contents, then handed it to me.  When I looked down to examine the object in my hand he hurried off, retaining his position as tail of the parade.  I turned to watch the procession work its way into the city then shifted my gaze to the vile.  Inscribed were the words "P.T. Sleuth's Sideshow: Journey to the Infinite."  The vile contained a clear liquid, sealed with wax.  Remembering the strange weather I turned toward the sky.  The clouds were now white and placid.  I placed the vile in my pocket and walked into town.
I was sixteen at the time; fascinated by curiosities and anxious for stimulus.  The carnival intrigued me with its color, the performances, the legends of dark magic and otherness.  To me this was an opportunity to gain insight into a curiously dark form of American entertainment.iii  When back in town I decided to go to the public library, my sanctuary, and research carnival sideshows.  I left with a pile of books at 6:23, three hours since they arrived to town.  I proceeded home and retired to my room; reading in anticipation for the following day's amusements.
The sun forced its way through the cracks in the blinds.  My eyes opened and looked at the time, 7:23.  Books scattered the bed like perverse sleeping companions.  I raised my body from the bed and bumped my way into the kitchen for some coffee.  As it brewed, I dreamt of the sideshow oddities I had discovered in the previous night.  Alas, the deep black liquid charges my body with energy to move about consciously completing the transition from dream time to real time.  I got dressed, grabbed my camera and walked down to the carnival..
The fog rose up past the canvas tents, the lack of clarity softening the color.  I took out my camera and began shooting photographs.  Just as I was about to shoot my third picture, a firm hand landed on my shoulder.  Startled, I jumped up.  Standing there was the man who had given me the vile.  He tipped his hat and performed a stylized bowing motion.  I attempted the same bow with awkward unfamiliarity.  He smiled and introduced himself as P.T. Sleuthiv the proprietor of this carnival.  "My dear friend," he exclaimed, "you appear to be quite interested in the carnival."  I acknowledged him with a nod of my nervous head.  He proceeded, "After the show tonight come and visit me, I shall like very much to talk with you.  As you know, traveling carnival sideshows are quite rare now.  When I have an opportunity to talk with someone, like yourself,  who shows definite enthusiasm, I never pass it up.  Please don't disappoint me lad, your presence would be greatly appreciated."  Felling a little skeptical, but curious, I accepted.  He shook my hand and departed. 
The fog had now lifted and the painted banners shone forth in vivid colors.v  For several hours I walked around shooting pictures of the nostalgic display.  It seemed more like a museum than a traveling show.  As I was admiring the painted banners I noticed a short man climbing on to a platform projecting from the tent.  He was sharply dressed with a full beard and top hat.  He let forth a gargling sound to indicate he was clearing his throat, and then with a voice far larger than his size, he wailed out the following monologue:

    "Ladies and gentlemen, gather round as I entice your ears with the most curious and strange attractions in the world.  Concealed in the tent behind me  is a world of paradox.  Some are human beings, like yourselves, who posses  extraordinary characteristics.  They are the 'crowning mystery of nature's  contradictions,'vi living proof of human diversity.  Others, regrettably, may not  even be referred to as human.  Though their form resembles a humanoid, a  more apt term would be monsters or even aliens.  These exhibits baffle even  the most profound scientists.  Make no mistake my friends, what lies behind  me is not a flight of fancy, nor should it be perceived as evil.  Ours is an  enlightened age, with a great understanding of the nature of things.  We no  longer condemn that which is abnormal as evil, nor do we worship the sun as  the great provider of life.  Our lives consist of a search for knowledge, fresh  stimulus to further our development.  This, friends, is your lucky day, when  you purchase your ticket to enter this tent, you are purchasing the key to the  ultimate experience of your lifetime.  Huxley wrote, 'If the doors of perception  were cleansed, everything would appear as it truly is, infinite.'  This seems a  most fitting description of what awaits your entry.  Ladies and gentlemen, step  right up, this is your chance to experience the infinite."

The outside lecturer's monologue was definitely enough to spark my curiosity.  Like most surrounding me, I purchased the dollar ticket and entered the tent.  As the 23 or so of us entered, I noticed that aligning the circumference of the tent were a number of stage sets with figures in them.  The lecturer followed us into the tent closing the door behind him.  He began to speak,

"Ladies and gentlemen, what you see around you are seven of the most  incredible enigmas of contemporary times:  the shocking Anne-Marie the  Bavarian Static Girl,vii the blinding Anna Morano with her Luminous  Breasts,viii the unique Gort and Klatuuix Aliens found in New Mexico, the  mysterious Professor Darkx and his Transforming Tattoos, Cosmonauts of  Innerspacexi, the baffling Fakir Rhanninxii with extreme tolerance skin, and the  grotesque Pickled Palace of Preserved Specimens."xiii All the while that our lecturer was speaking, the exhibits sat in their contextualized sets and watched us.  As I looked at the exhibits I began to feel cheated, how could these strange figures give me an understanding of the infinite?  "You there.  Young man," barked the lecturer.  I looked up towards him.  He was staring directly at me.  I made a subtle pointing gesture toward myself and he nodded saying, "Feeling deceived are we? Well my dear lad, the show has yet to begin.  Did you expect upon entering this tent you would be cast into infinite space?"  The crowd began giggling.  I bowed my head in ignorance.  He continued, "No need for shame my boy, literal thinking is a curse we all experience, however, it has no place here."  I regained my composure.  "When all of you enter this space, you are inclined to dismiss what I have presented outside as a Ballyhoo,xiv but as they say, patience is a virtue.  Take a look at your watch, all of you look at your watches.  They have all stopped.  Inside this tent is a world of unperceivable magic.  Open your mind and rest your skepticism.  You might be surprised at the results."       
With a smile of grandeur the lecturer oriented us to the first exhibit.  "Anne-Marie the Bavarian Static Girl" was written on a small plaque in the foreground of her exhibit.  The set was that of an office cubical, recreated with minute detail.  Anne-Marie sat at the desk typing on a manual typewriter, acting as though she were oblivious to our presence.  The lecturer began, "The shocking Anne-Marie Schneider is a human conductor of electromagnetic energy.  At age 19, unexplained occurrences began surrounding her life.  'Light bulbs would sway and dim as she passed.  Phones would ring with no one on the line.'"xv  As he orated her story, the props in her set began to vibrate.  A strange electrical humming emanated from the exhibit slightly tensing my muscles like fingernails on a chalkboard.  Anne-Marie slowly lifted her hands from the typewriter.  The audience let out a gasp when they saw the keys were still being depressed.  Anne-Marie stood up and faced us.  As she closed her eyes, the objects began shaking violently, beating on the floors and the walls in a pounding roar.  My heart was racing.  As the energy increased, the objects started lifting of the ground and flying around her with great speed.  The hum became a high pitched whistle that pierced my body like needles.  The exhibit was growing too intense.  I tried to close my eyes but they were pried open.  Suddenly, there was an explosion, followed by a horrific crash. 
The tent was black and silent.  After sufficient time the lecturer struck a match and lit a candle.  All of our focus was drawn toward the light.  He held the candle so it illuminated his face and pronounced, "My dear friends, as proud as we can be for our accomplishments of harnessing and controlling energy, when we witness someone like Anne-Marie we are completely dumfounded.  She is the living proof of our ignorance.  To see her perform is to regain humility.  But your journey has just begun.
"Follow me, if you will, to our next exhibit, 'Miss Anna Morano the Luminous Girl.'"  He carried the candle into the next set and placed it in on a small desk.  The flickering light partially illuminated a historic looking bedroom.  On the bed, seemingly asleep, was Anna.  She wore a thin white bed gown which flowed with the passing air.  The subtle light gave the sleeping figure an erotic ghostly presence.  The space was silent for some time as we stared at the exhibit sleeping in her room.  Our narrator, in a whispered voice proclaimed, "When our dear angel Anna falls asleep something unusual occurs."  As the words were leaving his lips, a beautiful blue glow began to emanate from Anna's breasts.  We were hypnotized by the vision, she appeared so lovely, so divine.  Suddenly I smelled a repulsive odor.  I shifted my gaze to those around me; it was evident that everyone smelled it.  "A piercing scent, is it not?",  exclaimed our lecturer, "Baffling as it may be, Anna's angelic glow produces as a by-product a most revolting stench."  The audience turned away and plugged their noses.  Seeing this, the lecturer proceeded with our tour.  "Ladies and gentlemen I must now ask you to prepare for our next exhibit.  In 1947 a government conspiracy covered up the crash landing of an extraterrestrial ship in Rosalin,xvi New Mexico.  Four 'alien life forms' were recovered.  This exhibit produces obvious skepticism, but my friends, seeing is believing."  With a quick motion of his hand a light switched on above the third set.  A large cage was revealed housing two grotesquely thin creatures with enormous heads.  Their skin was rubbery and transparent.  Unlike the fluid carrying veins in our own anatomy, the aliens had a flowing matter that freely transversed the internal surface of their skin, giving them a hallucinatory presence.  "Gort and Klatuu arrived to earth in peace.  Never have they been hostile in their actions.  It might then seem ironic that they are exhibited in a cage, yet my friends, sad as it is, they are caged for their own protection.  The cage serves not to keep them in, but to keep us out.  Being that our government denies any evidence of extraterrestrials, displaying them is quite risky.  From hostile past experiences, we now sadly rely on confinement for their protection.  But do not have pity for what you see before you.  These are but the shells of Gort and Klatuus' existence.  The have long since passed on to another dimension."    
Our lecturer led us to the next exhibit saying, "The half way point of our journey is a most incredible act, 'Professor Dark's Transforming Tattoos.'"  A cloaked man stood alone in a blank set.  Everything was painted white emphasizing Dark's figure.  The lecturer continued, "The professor received his first tattoo when just a boy.  To his amazement when the ink was inserted into the skin, rather than remaining inscribed in a fixed position, it transversed the skin as if it were animated.  It was then that Mr. Dark decided to inscribe his entire body into an intricate pattern, and folks, the result is mystifying, defying all logical constraints.  Professor, if you would, please show these fine people your alluring inscription."  The figure lifted his arms and the cloak fell to the floor.  The crowd gasped.  Professor Dark stood naked and fully erect.  Strange tribal designs moved about his skin in an optical display of psychedelica.  I was transfixed and yet somewhat horrified.  There was something too weird about the display, too dark.  Suddenly I began to recognize images within the patterns, similar to the experience of looking at Rorcharh prints, but animated.  I found that if I concentrated, I could actually produce the images I wanted to see.  I was hallucinating. 
"Quite a trip, eh my friends," interrupted our lecturer, "In the hallucinatory state one experiences a sense of timelessness.  23 minutes have passed since the Professor revealed his extraordinary attraction, yet to us it feels like 3."  I checked my watch but it was still stopped.  Had 23 minutes actually passed?  It didn't seem possible, yet as soon as I entered the tent I had felt displaced; as if inside something that lies outside reality.  I knew of course, this was part of the intention in the creation of this sideshow, but as the exhibits transpired one by one, I grew more and more dislocated.
"We now continue onward to the land of Innerspace," spoke the lecturer.  "What you will observe in the next exhibit does not exist.  It is a figment of your imagination.  This creates an obvious paradox; how can we exhibit the nonexistent?  Ladies and gentlemen, shift to your right and rest your eyes on this."  A greenish light fades on over the exhibit.  The light is weak making it difficult to distinguish between objects, but some sort of creature can be seen moving around.  I struggled to focus on it, but there was too little light.  The lecturer, observing all of us struggling to see, stated, "When trying to see what cannot be seen you must not rely upon your eyes but upon your mind.  Relax your eyes and absorb the information, your mind will fill in the blanks."  I did as he suggested; slowly I felt myself withdraw from the surroundings. The exhibit became my only point of focus.  Objects in the exhibit began to differentiate and soon I could focus on the creature.  As the lines sharpened, I realized it was one of my creatures, a "friend."  The second I noticed this, I snapped back into an awareness of my surroundings and the exhibit was once again out of focus.  "Innerspace is what you make it," inserted our lecturer.
Immediately, a fire is lit in the next exhibit.  It creates a rectangular shape in the center.  Persian rugs can be seen covering the floor and the walls.  A nude figure lights two torches, one on each side of the set, then sits cross-legged on the floor as if meditating.  Our lecturer said nothing; just motioned for us to turn towards the exhibit.  In front of the exhibit was a sign that read, "Fakir Rhannin; 'life is an illusion behind which lies the reality of dreams.'"xvii  When we had all assembled in front of the exhibit, the figure rose and greeted us with a formal bow.  He walked to the rectangular fire and without hesitation walked to its center.  The flames were reaching to about his waist.  He stood there for a short time with a smile on his face, then bent down into the fire and rose with two long metal spikes, red hot from the heat.  Without hesitation he pressed the spikes through his chest skin, in a kind of piercing.  During the procedure he showed no sign of pain.  Again he bent down and retrieving two more red hot spikes, proceeded to pierce one through each forearm with the same ambivalence to the pain.  The crowd was gasping in horror.  Finally our lecturer stated, "You should not be shocked at our display; it is a simple case of mind over matter.  Or as our performer says, 'I don't mind, so it doesn't matter.'"xviii
"We now arrive at the final exhibit in your journey, the 'Pickled Palace of Preserved Specimens,'  a collection of the curious, the abnormal, and the unknown.  Ladies and gentlemen, for 123 minutes, I have acted as your guide on this bizarre journey. You have grown accustomed to these aggrandized presentations; accepting them without skepticism to reach beyond a surface understanding.  Now, having arrived at the end, it is time for me to leave you.  Rather than embellishing this exhibit with my presentation, you will embellish it with your own imaginations.  It is now time for you to write your own conclusion."  With this, our lecturer departed from our presence. 
A series of lights illuminated a pathway on the ground.  We followed the path into the exhibit, where upon our entry, lights turned on,revealing a large room.  Old shelves lined every wall from floor to ceiling.  Densely compacted on the shelves were sealed glass containers housing strange specimens.  Some from our group left the exhibit immediately, others, like myself, were drawn in by curiosity.  Upon close inspection, each container was found to be numbered, labeled, and given a short description.  There were thousands of these containers bearing titles like:  "Syphilis Skull, Goat Boy, Devil Baby, Siamese Triplets, Alien Organs, Sacrificial Chicken, Tattooed Skin, and Mushroom Ant."  Others were set up in disturbing tableaux, strung together like immobile marionettes.xix   I spent what seemed like hours wandering and wondering at the preserved curiosities.  When I did finally depart, it was already dusk outside.  I was extremely drained; saturated with a blur of information.  The carnival was beginning to close when I remembered my appointment with P.T. Sleuth.  As this thought crossed my brain I heard footsteps approaching me from behind.  I spun my body and discovered P.T. Sleuth.  He greeted me with a bow and said, "Shall we?"  I nodded and he led me into one of the carriages.  It was deceptively large inside.  The walls were plastered with hundreds of strange images forming a dense collage.  In the center of the space was a round oak table.  He motioned for me to sit down.  As I took my seat, I noticed to my left a maquette of the sideshow I had just attended.  I studied it and found it to possess secrets that were not revealed during the presentation: numerous projectors, robotics, and special effects.  P.T. Sleuth brought two glasses and a bottle of wine to the table.  Sitting down, he handed me a pen and paper.  "I think it would be good if you recorded our conversation, in writing, like an interview.  It might be of use to you sometime in the future.  Wine?"  And so we began.

Interview with the showman P.T. Sleuth;
"The Fine Art of Deception, the sideshow exposed"

J:   "What is so curious about curiosities?"
P.T:   "The concepts of peculiar, odd, and exotic have been completely assimilated into the general consciousness of contemporary human beings.  The abnormal no longer possesses the extraordinary characteristics that empowered its initial recognition as a curiosity.  In the 1950's, when 'UFO' sightings began to occur quite frequently, the media and the general public collaborated on a quest for the unknown.xx  Numerous sightings, films, and conspiracies have created in all of us a visual image that stands for 'flying saucer' and for 'alien,' despite the fact that we have never seen one first hand.  The unknown has come to be identified through signifiers.  Once the unknown develops into a sign, as in the case of aliens, it becomes hyperreal; existing in a state more powerful than the real.  Once the real is experienced, it lacks significant impact due to previous conditioning.  In a society where information is simulated, the real is destroyed for the signs and signifiers of a hyperreal world of general knowledge."xxi
J:   "If this is the case, why am I still intrigued by the unknown and curiosities, is it nostalgia for a time of mystery?"         
P.T:   "Yes and no.  It's a nostalgia for communal esotericism, but rather than utilizing traditional fraternities in seeking mysteries, you must search out the curiosities of the contemporary.  The traditional 'cabinet of curiosities'xxii consisted of a collection of strange objects and specimens; from a fetus elephant to exotic shells and diseased bones.  These collectors gathered the exotic and fantastic in order to impress and dazzle their contemporaries.  As time roles along, concepts of what constitutes the exotic changes, and thus collections change as well.  The exotic object was gathered, marveled at, and then demystified, leaving its residue on the cartography of curious history.  Over time these collections transformed from private cabinets into public museums of two distinct forms: the categorical museum as in the case of Peale's Museum,xxiii and the sideshow as in Barnum's American Museum.xxiv  The institution collected artifacts while the sideshows collected the living, I say this with flexibility because of the obvious crossovers."
J:   "I think this all occurred in the mid 1800's, how do you see yourself in relation to these examples as a contemporary showman?"
P.T:   "Well first off, these museums presented examples of what at that time was called the 'other.'xxv  They received the recognition not only from the general public, but from the scientific community as well.  Science in America was quite young and the abnormal was of great interest to that community.xxvi  As society increased, mass communication and media developed a shrinkage of the world.  The curious became familiar by losing its exotic flavor.  Today when we see someone with microcephaly we do not consider them 'pinheads' from a lost civilization of Aztecs, rather we see someone with a specific form of mental deficiency.  The original 'savage' explanation has been demystified, instead we have developed an emotion of 'pity,' a given part of our common knowledge.xxvii  In contemporary times the showman, for the reason I've just described, cannot utilize the same subjects that were used in the past.  Once the general public, led by science, grew to have pity for those people participating in 'freakshows,' the showmen were forced to stop this form of exhibitionism or no one would come.  The showman has one prerogative; give the public what they desire most.xxviii  The showman is running an amusement business, in order for his business to succeed, he must have the public attend his shows.  But getting back to your question, I am in every way like the historic showman.  As times changed, so too did the subjects.  In my profession I must simultaneously be one step ahead and one step behind simulated society, that is to play off of society's wants in addition to searching for the extraordinary in the everyday.  This idea can best be explained through an example: upon the discovery of King Tutankhamen's tomb it was discovered that those who entered would be 'cursed.'  The archaeologists were hardly willing to depart without entering, finally arriving at the gateway of their desires.  Many of those involved in the excavation died within a few months.  Scientists proclaimed the cause of death, for those who hadn't died of 'freak' accidents, was an unusual bacteria which had been confined in the tomb, lying dormant and awaiting exposure to the outside world.xxix  This explanation appears to deny the validity of a 'curse.'  However, my argument is that the bacteria was in fact the 'curse.'  This does not infer that the ancient Egyptians consciously placed a bacteria in the tomb to do the 'curse's' work, rather the bacteria was the result of how the curse manifested itself in that situation.  This method treats logic like a rubber band.  It can be stretched or snapped to fit the situation.  Since it is my profession to provide people with what they desire, I must be able to utilize this device.  It is of course manipulation, but I never utilize it to my advantage.  I manipulate the viewer to see what they want to see."  
J:   "I attended your sideshow this afternoon.  It was not at all what I had expected, I mean the way in which the show is so theatrically choreographed.  I don't know how much of the show was authentic, but it was an amazing experience; quite high-tech.  Upon exiting I felt as if I had just arrived back from a long journey.  Could you talk a little about why you chose these exhibits specifically?  In addition, I'm dying to know how some of the exhibits are created.  I mean they're just too far out to be real, yet they're truly convincing.  Don't feel obliged to answer this last bit if it would be breaching some sort of secretive pact."
P.T:  "To be honest, I have no secrets.  I give people an opportunity to have an interesting experience.  Like all entertainment industries that have a defined point of focus; i.e. a stage, a movie screen, or a television, special effects are utilized to give the exhibit apparent authenticity.  I use this and other devices of trickery and deception to make the exhibits appear more real than real.xxx  The exhibits hover somewhere between familiarity and fantasy.  That is, most of the exhibits have been known to us through previous simulated conditioning; we already know the rules of the game, so to say.  When these rules are folded back onto themselves, like a Moebius strip,xxxi they become a loop in reality.  Once isolated they transform into fantasy; recognizable, yet far too extreme to be familiar.  This is the space upon which I locate my exhibits.  The exhibits you saw today are part of a project I am working on called 'Alien Invasion; the enigmatic infestation from the inside out to the outside in.'xxxii 
"It is easier to present the exhibits as aggrandized if the viewers have rid themselves of their skepticism.  This is the job of my lecturer.  Through his deceptive use of 'call and return,' he manipulates the audience through a form of feedback.  He recites the oration to the audience.  They receive this information and respond through body language.  The lecturer reads their response and manipulates his oration to direct this particular group.xxxiii  Thus the lecture becomes something of a flux; the subjects are a constant, but the verbal embellishment is particular to each group's needs.  The lecturer perhaps has the most difficult job in the carnival.  The perception of the exhibits relies entirely on his presentation.  He is the distributor of 'rose colored glasses.'xxxiv  When the audience is ready, (meaning open-minded), he guides them through the exhibits. 
"I noticed you looking at my maquette when you first arrived.  (He grabbed it and placed it in the center of the table.)  As you can see, this maquette reveals the unperceivable aspects of the sideshow.  It illustrates the deception: in the 'Static Girl's' exhibit you see the special effect wires used to make objects levitate and fly around.  The 'Luminous' exhibit utilizes a special blue bulb that releases a pungent gas and creates an illuminated aurora.  The 'Aliens', as you can see, are automata, robots animated by a remote control.  The 'Transforming Tattoos' are produced by a series of holograms projected onto different sections of the performer's body.  'Innerspace' is simply a mirrored infinity with a number of objects, some animated with motors.  The lack of lightning forces your mind to fill in the blanks, thus creating 'Innerspace.'  The 'Fakir' is actually a master of illusion.  As you can see, with mirrors, projections, and 'fixed' tools, the 'Fakir' never actually performs what you perceive him as doing.  And the final exhibit of 'Preserved Specimens' are nearly all created out of plastic or rubber.  When crafted well and place in a jar with liquid, the result is seemingly authentic.  Oh, and of course the stopped watch effect.  This was produced by an electromagnetic current which oscillates at a specific harmony in order to render mechanical watches useless.  A nice trick that's perfectly harmless to humans."
"I feel rather strange knowing all this now.  I was really moved by the exhibit an hour ago, but now I'm not sure what to think.  Well, I guess I just feel deceived."
P.T: "You were deceived, I don't deny this, but within the sideshow you had a genuine experience of the exhibits.  Our carnival is a collaboration utilizing deception as a fine art.  The deception is not mischievous, but enlightening.  Many museums use deception in displaying objects.  The 'Constitution of the United States' in the National Archives has several replicas.  When one views this document they never know whether they are viewing the original or one of its replicas.  We are constantly being deceived, but this is not my point.  What you experienced in the sideshow was real; your perception guided the exhibit's delivery into your psyche.  Real time transpired and you experienced real emotions.  The fact that the exhibits were simulated rather than authentic should not matter.  You should treasure every opportunity to experience the extraordinary; no matter what kind of deception is utilized to provide you with the experience.  If you do this, life will appear to you as infinite."



The wine bottle was empty and I was feeling drowsy.  I told P.T. that I must be going, after all, it had been quite a day.  We stood up, shook hands, and he led me to the door.  As I exited he called out to me, "Justin, thank you for your participation."  Not knowing exactly what he meant I said, "Of course, no problem."  "I don't think you understand," he continued, "you, my friend, are the creator of this sideshow.  P.T. Sleuth is a stage name I acquired three months ago. My name, like yours, is Justin Gabriel McInteer.  My dear friend, you and I are one and the same.  What you have just experienced, I too experienced when I was your age.  Pleased to meet me."

The sun forced its way through the cracks in the blinds.  I pried my eyes open and let out a large yawn.  Suddenly I gained my bearings, oh my god, it was a dream.  The entire carnival, the exhibits, the lecturer, and P.T. Sleuth; all a dream.  I was totally bewildered.  I checked the date, it was the 23rd, a Thursday.  I distinctly recalled watching a movie with my family the previous night; "Something Wicked This Way Comes."  Of course, the carnival.  I giggled a little and preceded to go and make coffee.  As I was leaving the room, I noticed on the floor a number of pages in my handwriting.  I picked them up and read the heading, "Interview with P.T. Sleuth; the Fine Art of Deception, the Sideshow Exposed.  Life is an illusion, behind which lies the reality of dreams."


Conclusion

Things are what you make them.
My role, as a contemporary artist, is that of an entertainer.  Our world is saturated with images.  Fine art, ironically, plays a very small role in this visual vocabulary.  I feel it is absolutely necessary for the contemporary artist to deal with entertainment issues.  The function of contemporary art is to create a connection; to communicate something to the viewer.  This is the same system used in the entertainment industry.  This industry's presentations are the images that embody our consciousness; our folkloric cartography of things.  The entertainment industry works on a mass scale with many employees collaborating on a central cause.  The presentations are highly skilled in conveying a message to their viewers.  I'll make no bones about it, I think there is noting sacred about fine art.  Artists can learn a lot about presentation by studying the entertainment industry's visual vocabulary. 
Take it where you can get it.  
I chose the carnival sideshow as the subject for this paper because it embodies an essential parallel to my artistic practice: the exhibition of the unknown, the uncanny, and curiosities.  This is not a recent interest by any means, I ingested that spore long ago.  Since I was a child I have been fascinated by the carnival aesthetic.  I've made work in the past that dealt specifically with creating the dark aurora of the carnival.  This paper provided an opportunity to investigate this subject further, dissecting its form, and extracting its dark secrets.  I treated the carnival as a metaphor for my artistic practice.  By creating a blur of fact and fiction, a narrated journey through a carnival sideshow transpires.  The reader follows the journey as one of the audience; experiencing the sideshow's exhibits conceptually.  Next the reader has the carnival explained and demystified by P.T. Sleuth.  The paper intends to be both entertaining and theoretical.  Being that my focus is quite eclectic, the sideshow gave me the freedom to be diverse while remaining within a defined parameter.

A Final Parable

Once, in a mythical land, there existed a Line and a Spiral.  Despite their differing philosophies, they were good friends.  The Line would perform tasks in a given order, a conscious focus of direction.  The Spiral, on the other hand, performed tasks in great circles, eclectically covering ground.  When given identical tasks, the Line always finished far earlier than the Spiral.  Yet when the tasks were completed, the Spiral always seemed more enlightened by the experience.  One day they thought it would be fun to discuss their differences. 
The Line began, "Spiral, my friend, when I perform a task I have a goal in mind, to finish that task.  I work in the exact direction necessary to achieve this goal.  Therefore, I have a clear focus of my path and the requirements needed to get there.  Everything that is not central toward me reaching this goal is disregarded as extraneous."  
"I too have a goal," begun the Spiral, "but I do not find the peripheral extraneous.  As I perform a task, I do not see a straight line as a path, but rather as an axis.  I move in concentric circles that decrease in size, slowly taking me through the task.  During this process, the initial eclecticness grows more and more specialized until everything synchronizes when the goal is reached."
They stood there looking at each other for a long time until the Line finally said, "Spiral, are you polytheistic?"  "Why yes," exclaimed the Spiral,  "and my dear friend Line, you must be monotheistic."  "I am," stated the Line proudly.  Both of them feeling confident in their ways they shook hands and went to the pub for a pint Guiness.           

Excerpt from "My Life as a Spiral" Justin Gabriel McInteer, (unpublished).