Clown.e.s

In French, the word clown is traditionally masculine. Some women have informally added an “e” — clown.e — to assert their presence in a field historically dominated by men. The spelling remains unofficial, slightly incorrect, but an act of identity. That small punctuation mark reflects the spirit of the series.

The clown is a familiar figure — but most often a male one. Female clowns exist, and have for a long time, yet we rarely hold a clear image of who they are. When I began meeting women clowns, I realised how little I knew about them — beyond the red nose.

This series grew from that curiosity.

I photographed them in moments of becoming rather than full performance: during preparation, in stillness, in emotional shifts. What interested me was the space between exaggeration and intimacy — where artifice allows something deeply personal to surface.

Clowns play with ridicule. They exaggerate failure, ego, shame, pride. They are absurd — deliberately so. In these portraits, I wanted that absurdity to remain, but to sit alongside dignity and presence. The images borrow the quiet structure of classical portraiture — not to remove humour, but to hold it steady. To let a clown be sovereign and funny at the same time.

Each woman inhabits her clown differently. Some are watchful, some wounded, some imperious, some tender. Together, they expand the image of who gets to be excessive, comic, confrontational or strange.

CLOWN.E.S is both a correction in grammar and in gaze.