[MSN] Is phobia behind the clown vandalism?

[Museum Security Network Mailinglist]

Is phobia behind the clown vandalism?
By CAROL E. LEE

carol.lee at heraldtribune.com

SARASOTA -- Sure, some of the vandalism that has plagued downtown Sarasota's
clown statues is probably pranks or quests for kudos from peers, akin to
high school students nabbing street signs as trophies of machismo.

But the public art exhibit has taken a far worse beating than Chicago's
cows, Bradenton's geckos or Venice's pigs ever did. And some psychologists
say that's because these seemingly cheerful statues pack a powerful
symbology.

"Clowns by their very nature are frightening beings that evoke fear," said
Sarasota psychologist Eddy Regnier. "The clown is also a symbol of frivolity
and fun, and people who suffer from depression, whose lives are not going
well, often want to destroy them."

Vandalism began almost immediately after the October debut of the "Clowning
Around Town" public art exhibit that benefits TideWell Hospice and
Palliative Care.

Limbs were snapped off. Props disappeared. A clown was beheaded. And two
were unbolted from their 300-pound concrete slabs and abducted.

It could be that some people look at a clown and see parts of themselves
they hate: foolishness, sadness and weakness, said Sarasota psychologist
David Peters.

"There's always something pathetic about the clown, and that's what
generates the humor. But for some people that generates annoyance and
anger," Peters said.

Public art usually undergoes some level of tampering.

Washington, D.C.'s 2004 panda exhibit took a hit, with one stolen sculpture
turning up in the Anacostia River. But of the 150 statues scattered about
the city, only two were severely damaged.

Even the 300 cow statues in Chicago only endured a couple of tippings and a
few sets of sawed-off horns.

"Part of it I think is where they were located," said Marcel Bright, a
spokesman for the Chicago Police Department. "They were in areas where they
were out in the open."

They were also animals, creatures that in real life do not typically evoke
complicated human reactions.

Informed that Sarasota's exhibit features clowns, Bright fell silent. Then
he said: "Oh, that's scary.

"Clowns, you can have a better understanding. People have this thing about
clowns: You either love them or hate them."

It was not always this way.

Slapstick comedy, the essence of clowning, entertained crowds for centuries
before fear entered the stage. In ancient societies, court jesters mocked
kings when no one else could. Hollywood's popularity in the early 1900s came
from clownish films featuring actors like Charlie Chaplin and Harry Langdon.

Then 1970s serial killer John Wayne Gacy dressed as a clown to entertain
children at parties in his Chicago neighborhood. The following decades
brought a tide of horror movies with clown villains. Pennywise terrorized
children in Stephen King's "It." "Killer Klowns from Outer Space" turned
humans into cotton candy cocoons and drank their blood through curly straws.

Coulrophobia, the clinical term for fear of clowns, was coined, and modern
clown humor shifted from water-squirting flower gags to riffs on the
entertainers.

Homey the Clown on the 1990s television show "In Living Color" was a
convicted felon who entertained children as a condition of his parole. When
kids asked him to perform, he smacked them on the head with a stuffed sock
and said, "Homey don't play dat."

Mold the modern clown image into 6-foot-tall fiberglass statues, and they
become easy targets, ripe for smashing, chopping and theft, psychologists
said.

"If you're at a circus or at a parade, there's not really much you can do
other than avert your eyes or walk away. But here is a situation that
generates a lot of discomfort, and you can act out on that feeling,"
Sarasota psychologist Karen Saef said. "The people who are doing this
destruction are not trying to prove a point. They're having their own
destructive sequence with these clowns."

Many people spoke out against the clown art exhibit when city commissioners
first considered it. Some even saw this coming.

But not the folks at TideWell.

"We didn't expect to be dealing with this two months after they'd gone on
the streets," said TideWell spokesman Dave Glaser. "Especially when you
consider what this project is all about."

For exhibit organizers, every bit of damage is money taken from a child in
need.

And they don't play dat. 

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