What if I told you that Washington Square Park had its own circus? What would it look like? Some people would imagine a giant tent set up over the central fountain; with the water turned off, it already creates a sort of acropolis with raked seating, a stage that is already used by skateboarders bailing on a new trick. Some might imagine a tent, pitched up on the wide stretch of lawn right next to the dog park and the children’s playground. Circuses are for kids, aren’t they?
More than a few jokers who think themselves clever may say that Washington Square Park is a circus in itself. Patrons already encounter homeless people, twitch streamers, overambitious skateboarders, artists, and buskers of all kinds.
Well, let me tell you what you’ll actually find: glowing lights, impromptu juggling lessons, and a flowlike proper manipulation that looks more akin to what you’d see at a rave rather than in a circus tent. EDM music blasts from the neon speaker sitting on the ground near the center fountain while props are scattered among the ground.
Welcome to Violet Circus Arts.
If you manage to make it past all of the objects being flung around, you might be able to make out Shaun Sim: he’ll most likely be pacing shirtless back and forth on top of a very tall unicycle (called a giraffe for what might be obvious reasons).
He started the club nearly a decade ago, he runs the social media accounts, and for nearly every summer Wednesday of the decade since, he arrives on his unicycle with a menagerie of toys in tow.
For all intents and purposes, Shaun Sim is Violet Circus Arts.
In the morning, he works in marketing and communications for a hospital. On Wednesdays nights, he moonlights as a circus impresario. This all started while on the journey to get his master’s in journalism in New York University (the school that surrounds the entire park and whose students make up most of its populace. (The “Violet” in the name refers to the club’s origins as an NYU club.)
“Back in 2010, I started at NYU with a group of friends. Over time, more and more people gathered, and of that group, some of us decided to officially make it a group through [NYU].”
The Violet Circus Arts went through many presidents, vice residents, and treasurers during its decade-plus career. However, the club separated from the school once the pandemic came around.
Another club that resided in the neighboring West Village was the Carmine Street Irregulars. Starting back in the late 80’s, Carmine Street—Held in an NYC Recreational gym—was a haven for all jugglers and performers passing through New York City. However, when the city added membership pricing to be able to access its numerous recreational centers, the club lost most of its members. Another roadblock came when Covid hit, and the Tony Dapolito gym that the club met at every Thursday closed.
Thankfully, thanks to one of its committed (and retired) members, the emails thundered away, and the club continues its nearly 30-year legacy at the Gertrude Ederle Gym just on the edge of Hell’s Kitchen New York, now with a gaggle of committed gym membership owners.
One regular attendee is Joe Esposito: affectionately named “Baseball Joe” by his peers (to distinguish him from the numerous amounts of “Joes” that Juggling clubs seem to attract). The “baseball” in his name refers to the fact that he’s never seen without one of his baseball caps, which he seems to have in droves. He’s never seen in the same place more than one day a week.
“I like that the people are very nice,” Joe explained. “It’s a nice community, with a common bond [of people] who likes to use props and juggle things.”
Something else that makes Joe stand out is his age. Retired from his days as a COBOL programmer for the NYPD, he makes time to come out and juggle with the young, hyperactive rabble-rousers of the park.
“It’s the cross section of a lot of people getting together and doing something together,” the retired programmer remarked. “Economics, races, genders… There’s no discrimination,” he said.
Violet Circus Arts stand out from its sister juggling clubs by its aesthetics: Carmine Street Irregular members are held to the gym’s strict dress code of appropriate athletic wear or else risk the ire of a disgruntled city employee.
Here, in the heart of the Village, the fine-dressed people stick to the comedy and jazz clubs on the outskirts of the park. Inside, its patrons are thrift store kings and queens. Along with the fashion, the Village club also differentiates itself by its toys. Being in a large area means that Shaun has the room to dance around on his giraffe of a unicycle and not trample over the denizens of the park or the club below.
While the usual balls and clubs that the public often equate to circus do inhabit the space, there is an entirely different frontier of prop manipulation that marks the club’s distinction- that of the flow.
Members of the juggling community debate—yes, there’s a juggling community and debates flame up frequently—the interpretation of flow. Is it the same as juggling, or toss juggling as many would call it? Does it refer to the “state of flow,” that people can inhabit once they start to gain mastery of their prop; a kung fu of sorts. Or is it just a misnomer that does nothing but divide the community based on what toys they like to play with.
One of the club’s most recent members, Aidan Chang, said the diversity is what makes the juggling sessions special.
“Violet Circus Art is a very diverse, ragtag group of people who come together every Wednesday night in a crazy chaotic environment [to] have fun, make friends, and spread awareness. [To] show everyone who’s sitting around here what we do and what flow arts is.”
Aidan sees the visibility of the group as one of its most important aspects.
“It’s great to have a group of people who just come out here—no judgement— and do what they do. Circus is traditionally treated as a technical thing, but it’s also very much a spectacle.”
Aidan’s choice of prop, like many of the other flow artists here, is “poi,” a pair of two pieces of string with a weight tied to the end. He uses the poi to swing around his body, creating baton-like movements around his body that act as extensions of his own arms. The oneness of the prop and the person, the never-ending cylindrical movements of the props create a sense of “flow” in the performer and the spectator.
Who knew that someone could dance and juggle better than you?
”I like to set up a speaker and just jam out, and I know people like to watch. And that’s really fun too!” Aidan admitted.
As the sun comes down, the glow props come out. The usual club members swap out their normal practice toys for ones that have LEDs in one way or another. Now it truly does look like a rave, as our circus dances into the night.
At the end, Shaun packs up of the things, accounting for everything he brought (thefts are rare, but still possible) and, with that all gathered behind him, unicycles into the night, returning the props into their home until they come out the next Wednesday.
