At Orange St. Art Market, Sammi Bechard Sends in the Clowns

A new creature came to life behind artist Sammi Bechard​’s table Thursday afternoon at Ninth Square’s Orange Street Art Market, a monthly mini-bazaar organized by Downtown New Haven’s Town Green District.

Using a purple marker on a postcard-sized piece of paper, Bechard filled in a bald, alien-esque being’s shirt to match its long pupils. On display, looking out from zines and mini prints, other long-pupiled creatures seemed to blink back.

“There’s a vibe” connecting the characters they draw in this style, Bechard said, pointing out shared traits like flexible noodle arms and bright colors. That, and they’re all clowns.

Bechard’s clowns, with their whimsical nature and curious dispositions, fit right in with their three-dimensional surroundings. The outdoor market was low-key and friendly, a Type‑B younger sister of Town Green’s New Haven Night Market that floods entire downtown blocks with crafters, food vendors, and performances twice a year. The Orange Street Art Market hosts just a handful of vendors per pop-up, focusing more on curating a warm experience than staging a blowout event.

Some of Bechard’s clowns are more obviously from the big top (or comically tiny car), with painted faces and striped outfits. Others are subtle, showing off their squiggly appendages more than anything else. Either way, their ruffly neck collars give them away as members of Bechard’s rotating circus.

DJ Kasey Cortez played upbeat dance music Thursday as attendees played ping-pong and skateboarded through the rainbow-striped Orange Street Promenade. Town Green representatives offered card games and board games for attendees to borrow.

Over at the vendor booths, painter Demeree Douglas, who goes by D. Douglas in her art, debuted a new take on a major theme in her art: hair.

“I’ve always done hair. That’s my main thing,” she said. She brings the curls to life with materials like jewelery, fabric, or feathers. Sometimes she even uses real hair. For Thursday’s market, she brought the results of her latest method: spray-painting cotton balls to stand in as puffs of hair.

Bechard understands the artistic phenomenon of interests leading to innovation.

“I, for some reason, just like, love clowns,” they said before letting me in on a formative clown story from their life.

It all started — as many things in Bechard’s work do — in ​“the bins.”

A phrase tickling the ear of many a thrifter, DIY up-cycler, or frugalista across the Greater New Haven area, ​“the bins” refers to the Goodwill bins at 2901 State St. in Hamden. There, shoppers hunt through heaps of items that didn’t sell at the storefronts, trading convenience and organization for the thrill of finding a hidden gem on the low.

“I go for hours,” Bechard said. ​“It’s my favorite thing to do.”

Purchases at the Goodwill bins are priced not by brand, quality, or even number of items, but by weight. This makes it the perfect place for Bechard to find lightweight treasures, like the miniature home goods they’re sourcing for an upcoming ​“Clown Lounge.” It’s exactly what it sounds like: a cozy environment where their growing collection of clown figurines will be able to kick back, relax, and hang up their party hats.

It was years ago that Bechard found a cursed clown in the bins and took it home. Something about it was off, and their friends agreed. They weren’t sure how to salvage their fates, and in the end they gave the toy a proper burial hoping to lift the spell.

“If you knew it was cursed, why did you get it?” I asked, ​“Not to victim-blame.” Bechard replied that sometimes they feel bad for the items that don’t get picked up.

Bechard’s haunted experience stuck with them, taking the concept of clowns from a lifelong interest to one of their key motifs. Even the heart-shaped creature on a sign at Bechard’s table telling passersby to grab business cards had a frilled clown collar. The theme might have had occult beginnings for Bechard, but it is actually the more lighthearted of their two main art styles.

The other is characterized by moody colors, quiet mayhem, domestic interiors, and ghosts. A figure with scribbles covering its head, or perhaps constituting its head, appears to seek solace as flames burn in the background. A black cat keeps watch. There is a heavy emotional tone to these pieces, a balance of comfort and destruction leaving the viewer wondering if everyone will be okay.

Underneath all of Bechard’s art (literally) was the playful nostalgia of two elementary-school-style road map rugs, which Bechard fished from — you guessed it — the bins. The rugs acted as a thick tablecloth for Bechard’s display, giving their creatures a cheery, almost comical context; why is it that kids are so enchanted by mundane adult things, like driving and roads? Why is it so satisfying to place toys and drawings in a little town?

If Bechard didn’t have the answers, it seemed like their clowns just might. Goofy, cursed, and eager to try their best, they thrived in the company of Bechard’s comic universe.