People like to dress up. How each person responds to her attire, however, is harder to generalize. The children in this essay all wear some kind of accessory that reminds one of the mainstream stereotypes of the Middle Ages. A paper crown, a sword, a vest. The Festival was in fact a long paved way with hundreds of stands at each side, one next to the other. At these tents things were sold: phosphorescent puppets, velvety dresses, real blades, turkey legs, canned pickles, palm readings. It was about selling; the Middle Ages were just the label under which all kinds of products were being pushed. The organizers’ imagination was limited to having the salespeople dress up like fairy tale characters, scattering a number of singers who chanted church-like tunes, and inviting a group of school children to dance to Celtic songs on an improvised court.
The main consumers, of course, were children. Unlike adults, every child at Tyron’s Park Medieval Festival carried something that signaled that they belonged in there. Snow-White was extremely popular, surpassed only by warriors who, if they lacked a shield or a helmet, held a plastic sword on their belts. But after wearing the costume, there comes a period of time in which people make decisions about how they will relate to the new weights they carry on their hips, or about the long dress that becomes entangled with the feet. This period, however, is uneven in length. Some kids behave as if carrying wings on their backs was just as carrying their backpack. To others, their attire is an invitation to play—to incarnate the soldier they wanted to look like. And yet other children, after exploring the new identity they assumed through their costume, take longer to return to their known behavior.
These pictures focus on children who exhibit these and other behaviors that are harder to figure out at once. Some titles are quotations from overheard conversations amongst the crowd.