I have always loved the circus. For me, the performance itself is secondary to the overall process- the building of personae and the transformation of space. Like magicians, circus performers create seemingly effortless acts under the controlled spotlight. However, outside that spotlight, outside the act, time moves slowly and rigs, props, determination, fear, elation and exhaustion fill the landscape with detritus, confetti and smeared greasepaint. I capture my experience of this rich environment using ambient light and an old-fashioned medium format film camera and tripod, creating large-scale c-prints in a traditional color darkroom.

The slowness of using this equipment along with long exposures shows the passage of time intrinsic to the circus, as well as the environment and details that are unseen or overlooked by the audience. I photograph the space, capturing the lights and structures, letting people walk through the frame, becoming ghosts. The ambient light is richly colored, exposing at times an unsettling atmosphere.

The line between audience and performer, voyeur and exhibitionist, is often blurred at the circus; the audience is as interesting as the performers. The people- performer, audience member, or photographer- stand for me, holding a pose for long exposures, creating awkward, miniature performances. They stand as still as possible, but the camera records all of their tiny movements, blurring faces, bodies, and identities.

Shooting the circus, I am voyeur and exhibitionist, spectator and spectacle. I first grasped this concept while preparing for a performance art circus outside of Havana in 2003. Standing outside of the tent at night, I was taking a photograph of a fellow artist, Amaury, making him stand still, holding my gaze for over a minute. "This," he said as I slowly and methodically set up my shot, "is a collaborative performance." He was absolutely right.