When Arnoldo Iriarte started working in a shoe factory in his native Uruguay at age 14, he likely never thought he would be known one day as Juan Clodomiro, an artistic name he acquired as his shoemaking career took an unconventional turn.

Arnoldo Iriarte, now known as Juan Clodomiro (Photo/Jessie Akin)

“I was selling regular shoes at a stand in Parque Lezama, and I was approached by a clown from Barcelona named Miquelet,” said Iriarte. “He had been on a two-year tour with the circus through Latin America, and his shoes were worn through. He asked me if I could make him a new pair, so I did.”

It was then that he realised he could put his finely-honed skills to work crafting the unusually large footwear of the clown, and he’s now the maestro of the clown shoe – or chalupa – in Argentina.

At 19, Iriarte left Uruguay for new opportunities in Buenos Aires. Raising a family, he worked with several of the best shoemakers in the city. During the mid-1990s, his employer at a factory became heavily indebted, and stopped paying the workers’ salaries.

“I decided to make my own shoes and go to the park to sell them,” said Iriarte. “They were colourful shoes. I could have easily made boring black and brown shoes. But I was in the park – in a hippy, artisan world that came from psychedelia and rock and roll, so the offer at my stand was greens and violets and intense reds. I think that’s what attracted the clown.”

But the clown shoe trade was non-existent in Argentina, according to Iriarte, and he had to examine Miquelet’s worn shoes in order to make his first pair.

“He came back a week later when the shoes were done,” said Iriarte. “Then he ordered another pair.”

After his encounter with Miquelet, Iriarte began attending a monthly gathering of clowns and magicians in Barracas called the chalupazo.

“I found myself standing before a new world,” he said. “This was in ’99 and ’00, in the middle of the economic recession in Argentina, and here there were 800 people gathering to laugh.”

Iriarte made contacts with clowns and directors from around Argentina and the rest of the world that came to participate in the chalupazo. The orders for clown shoes began to multiply. Arnoldo Iriarte became Juan Clodomiro.

According to Beatriz Seibel, a theatre historian and author of the book ‘History of the Circus’ (Historia del Circo), there is a long tradition of clown performance in Argentina.

“It has to do with society’s need for laughter,” said Seibel. “You have to go back to pre-Colombian times to the ritual contortionists for the origin of the circus and the clown in Argentina. Later came the Spanish acrobats (volatineros españoles), and the circus troupes from Europe in the 19th century.”

But the current clown movement in Argentina picked up after the last military dictatorship, according to Seibel.

“With the return to democracy in 1983, there was a sustained increase in the number of clowns performing in Argentina, especially street performers,” said Seibel. “Every day, there are more and more students in the clown schools.”

Juan Clodomiro's workshop (Photo/Jessie Akin)

Indeed, from his shop in Lanús, Iriarte maintains a waiting list of about three weeks for all of the orders he receives.

“Right now I’m making shoes for the circus,” he said. “There’s one in Puerto Madero, with 60 actors…another in the Panamericana. There are also clown schools, magic schools, and clown therapists (payamédicos).”

Iriarte has done multiple TV and radio appearances, and often turns down requests because they consume productivity time.

“Media appearances are tough because I have to come back to the workshop and work, and try to forget about what the encounter may have generated in me,” he said. “Because here there’s another reality, which is the dynamic of the process.”

Visit Arnoldo’s blog at www.clodoclown.blogspot.com

Beatriz Seibel’s book is available at the bookstore Fray Mocho

“The circus is coming! The circus is coming! The circus is coming to town!”

People might not have been shouting this in the streets, but all the same, you could feel the excitement when the second instalment of the annual International Festival Polo Circo arrived in Buenos Aires in April. Featuring everything from living totem poles made out of stacks of acrobats, to trapeze artists springing down zip-wires suspended from the tops of skyscrapers, the festival brought some of the world’s best circus to the Argentine capital.

But even though the festival is over, circus has come to Buenos Aires to stay. The last 20 years have seen a massive boom in Argentine circus arts, and more and more people are getting involved, both at a professional and a grass roots level.

Nevertheless, the performers aren’t one big happy family: there is a significant split between the old circus dynasties, which feel that they are being excluded from the movement, and new performers, eager to try out different styles. These divisions have become mixed with politics and social issues, and in many cases conflict has arisen between artists and the city government.

El Circo Criollo (Photo/Eduardo Amorim)

Birth of the Circus

Circus first arrived in Argentina with the immigrants that flocked here at the end of the 19th century, but even though it came from abroad it developed with an Argentine twist. Argentina’s circo criollo as it became known, was made up of two parts: the first featured acrobats, clowns, jugglers and all the other conventional elements of the circus; the second part was theatre. The performers knew scores of plays off by heart, and travelled from town to town, putting on a different show every night. The theatre often focused on specifically Argentine themes – adventuring gauchos were a particularly popular subject – and circus traditions became blended with Argentine history and culture.

Jorge Videla, now in his 70s, is the director of the oldest circus school in Argentina, and is a member of one of these great circus dynasties. His family came to the country in the 1880s, the descendents of Italians and Uruguayans who have performed in Argentina’s circus for four generations. Jorge prides himself on being part of a rich and old tradition. For him, circus is more than just a profession. “Circus is a philosophy of life,” he says, “in which a family stick out a journey together, through wind and rain and everything.”

A New Wave

But the times are changing. A new style of circus hit Argentina about ten years ago, and branched away from the circo criollo. Boris Mintz, an Argentine acrobatics and circus instructor describes the contrast: “Traditional circus is more like varieté. You have a series of different sketches presented by an MC…modern circus is about combining styles, because just technique itself is not enough any more. You have to do dancing and acting as well.”

On of the most influential “new circus” schools is La Arena, in Palermo. Gerardo Hochman, the director, says that his shows the “ingredients of traditional circus” but they are also “very influenced by other artistic disciplines such as contemporary dance, theatre, new dramatics, sculpture and literature.”

Artists and performers disagree about where this new wave came from: Marcelo ‘Sasa’ Medina, who has been teaching acrobatics in cultural centres around Buenos Aires for 12 years, suggests the Canadian Cirque du Soleil was a huge influence.

Today, as circus gains popularity, new fusions are springing up. One example is Boris Mintz, who used to teach circus in cultural centres, but has now begun teaching a new art called “acroyoga”: a fusion between circus and yoga.

Circus: ‘Pop Culture’

Boris says that circus also began to spread in Argentina through the power of television. In 2004 Natalia Oreiro, a soap opera actress, played a circus performer and trained for the role by learning to use the hanging silk. Television presenters Susana Jimenez and Marcelo Tinelli followed suit and both featured circus on their shows. Today “it’s like a pop culture,” says Boris.

Circus has become part of mainstream culture to such an extent that the way it is taught is beginning to change. Two new university diplomas in circus arts have been introduced, one in the Universidad Tres de Febrero, and another in the Universidad San Martin. For the first time, circus is Argentina is moving away from old circus families and is becoming institutionalised.

The Clown Wars

But the split between modern and traditional circus has not been wholly amicable. Interviewing Jorge Videla, it is clear the he resents the new circus movement. Of the Cirque du Soleil, he says: “It’s not a real circus… It’s just a show using the techniques of circus.”

Videla suggests that the government uses modern circus as an excuse to disempower old circus families. He accuses the state of funding foreign companies in the international festival, while neglecting Argentina’s national heritage.

“They want to give money to France,” he says, “but they’re not interested in the Argentine circus…Our circus culture was born here. And [the government] is ashamed of it. They’re ashamed!”

Jorge complains that old circus families are “discriminated against” by the government, as they are not allowed to perform in the capital. This has negative consequences for society: circo criollo was a social equaliser, he says, travelling through the country bringing culture to deprived rural areas. Now, he asks: “How much does a ticket cost for the Soleil? It’s not circus for the people.”

However, Gerardo Hochman of La Arena suggests that the new circus movement has introduced a more democratic dimension to the art, which is why it has recently become so popular: “I think the door has been opened up to the community in general…because before…the circus was only passed on within families. And so when the game is opened up, the schools exist… it grew exponentially.”

Bread and Circuses: Social Projects

There is also a social dimension to the circus scene Buenos Aires. Circus arts are taught in a number of cultural centres across Buenos Aires, some in very poor areas. The government pays for the teachers and the lessons are free.

Gerardo says circus is useful for reaching out to deprived communities because it is “accessible for anyone and the talent, the gift, that you have to have to do circus does not have to do with academic training.”

Marcelo says that circus in cultural centres can help to build links in the community. He describes how his students “meet lots of people here who they have things in common with, even though at the same time they do lots of different things. Maybe there’s a doctor, then maybe there’s a workman. There’s a bit of everything.”

One cultural centre in Constitución, Trivenchi, has built up particularly strong community links. It now has begun charging fees following disputes with the government but classes used to be almost free. “They still put on kids shows for free, and give them snacks,” says Boris, “They work for the people.”

Despite the centres’ positive community work, Marcelo says their infrastructure is shaky and they lack equipment. The centres lack government funding and the instructors are underpaid because they are classified as “non-formal teachers”.

“It’s a constant fight, year to year,” laments Marcelo, “ It’s always a mess to get started, they never pay you on time…We began to work in theory in January or February and they pay us in May or June.”

The most dramatic conflict between cultural centres and the government came from Trivenchi. The Buenos Aires government, headed by mayor Mauricio Macri, tried on a number of occasions to close the centre, sparking angry protests. Demonstrators grew more passionate in the face of the International Polo Circo Festival, as they complained that their institution was being denied money, while Macri was paying foreign performers instead. Angry Trivenchi members demonstrated outside the festival grounds, urging the public to boycott the event.

Despite this, many performers agree that the festival offers a unique opportunity to local performers to come into contact with international artists. Gerardo Hochman argues “I think the existence of the festival is very valuable because it allows you to see the diversity that exists in the art of circus…I think it allows local artists to demonstrate their work to the world.”

With so many conflicting elements, it’s certain that the future of circus in Buenos Aires is not going to be straightforward. But the passion expressed both for and against the festival shows one thing for sure: circus is sparking interest in Buenos Aires. The movement is growing, and the circus is not about to pack up and leave any time soon.