A TIME TO CLOWN, A TIME TO NOT AUGUST

The first time we saw Zerp, 24-year-old Nic Rainone, in real life, he had a yellow afro and was balancing a plunger on his nose. Our next interview followed a circus at the AT&T Performing Arts Center. Thus he arrived wearing his tramp-clown costume — floppy shoes, oversized jumper, plastic nose and so forth. In his dressing room, he talked of his clown career, which he says started “at birth.” He was raised by clowns Poppy and Bonkers, who had a TV show. Poppy (Mom) has a successful career today as a Dallas psychic. As he systematically removed the getup, the makeup, the nose (a cherished item that was a gift from a Russian clown troupe), Rainone disclosed that he was struggling through an identity crisis of sorts. He loves clowning and will do it forever, he explains, but he is more than a clown, he wants people to understand. He’s a social activist, an opponent of factory farms, a street artist and a paranormal investigator, to name a few things. Sure, he’s a teacher and a beloved entertainer of young children, but he’s also a hard drinker and a fighter who plays in a punk band. All this considered, it was no surprise that to the subsequent meeting — the photo shoot, that is — Rainone did not bring his clown costume or cosmetics. He’d misplaced those things, he said. Whether he really lost his gear or was purposefully attempting to craft his new or alter image, the result was perfect. We were able to introduce readers, many of whom already knew Zerp, to Nic, the tattooed and misunderstood artist.

Baby Blue July

I thought I’d just be photographing a baby floating in a pool, as if in wait of rescue. Then Linda DeSanders, Lake Highlands’ Dolfin Swim School owner and director of the Texas Drowning Prevention Alliance, said, “Should we push her under?” My first thought was, that’s not a very nice thing to do, but then I heard myself say, “Sure!” Watching this infant frog-kicking underwater was a sight to behold. But shooting underwater isn’t easy. Simply finding the camera’s viewfinder is a challenge; fumbling with controls, even more so. This is to say nothing of the anxiety of submerging a $6,000 camera in little more than a glorified Ziploc bag. In the end, there were few tears — from either our semi-aquatic talent or the photographer watching her — and we came away with more unique photos than we could print, including this one. WORDS AND

PHOTO BY DANNY FULGENCIO

NO GOATS, NO GLORY APRIL

When Lake Highlands resident Mike Congrove started brainstorming ways to help the people of war-torn Sudan — aiming to transform their lives through education, financial assistance, the power of Jesus Christ and the like — goat racing wasn’t his first idea. It was, somehow, the one at which he eventually arrived. No kidding. Photographers could not be happier — sure, they appreciate that The Goat Run, now held annually at Flag Pole Hill, raises tens of thousands of dollars per year for Seed Effect and Empower Sudan, local faith-based charities bringing clean water, redevelopment aid and religion to the region. But, let’s be honest, the images yielded — for example, grown men (in this case, David Brumbalow, Brian Bain, Kurt Riddlesperger and David Faber) victoriously hoisting a goat overhead — are what make everyone (save the goat, perhaps) happy.

PHOTO BY JAMES COREAS

Ebola Effects December

Last October in Vickery Meadow (the community known in late 2014 as ground zero for Ebola in the United States) after the media frenzy subsided, the Advocate visited the neighborhood to interview and photograph some of the people who worked behind the scenes during the high-profile crisis. Stacey Roth, the woman in the photo, is the Vickery Meadow Improvement District’s public safety coordinator. She introduced us to Se Da Oo Shay, a teenage Thai refugee who lives at The Ivy Apartments and speaks multiple Asian languages. Shay (as he is known to his friends) voluntarily stuck by Roth and her co-workers, as well as county and city officials, roughly five days, translating vital health information and easing neighbors’ anxieties and confusion. Eighty percent of those living at the Ivy are refugees, mostly from Asian regions unfamiliar with Ebola and other viruses. During our time with Shay, people approached him in numbers, asking his help with anything from apartment maintenance issues to reporting a violent crime (that one ended our first interview). To the littlest Ivy residents, Shay is a veritable Pied Piper. At the photo shoot, on a particularly blustery day, we recruited members of his entourage, Nepalese tots, to hold fragile flash stands in place. Unfortunately, it was so ridiculously windy that a couple of expensive bulbs bit the dust. The helpful crew seemed to enjoy themselves nonetheless.

PHOTO BY DANNY FULGENCIO