A cult-like obsession some, a tradition for others, the Texas Renaissance Festival opens it's gates for a thirty-fourth season.
The Festival, held for eight weeks every fall in Plantersville, Texas, takes you back to the sixteenth century for mirth and merriment. The set-up is this: King Henry VIII is visiting New Market England, and the town scurries to open their finest shops, cook their most decadent foods and provide the most exciting entertainment. It just so happens that people from the modern world can walk into their world to be a part of the excitement.
For three years I was a part of this celebration--portraying a French princess. I laugh about it today, but admit that though the festival is pure illusion, there is a sort of magic that looms over it. It was by far the best job I ever had.
Keeping up with the created tradition of the Renaissance Festival, I made the yearly visit over Halloween weekend with my family. The shows were all there, the food was accounted for, the shops were full, but there was a difference this year: no magic. I was disappointed.
The performances by both sidewalk and stage performers, which I hold dearest to heart, were far below the standard I uphold. There was no mirth. No merriment. What was once a place for escape--leaving your century for another one that held so much fantasy--was replaced with something out of a brochure. The performers were mannequins for well-sewn costumes; their job seemed to be leading you to the nearest shop to buy memories, instead of having them. Honestly, I was heartbroken.
The Renaissance Festival emits a sort of joyous feeling: you are in a different place, allowed to be a different person, and immerse yourself into another century. But when the performers aren't helping you along, it makes it harder to differentiate a moment from just an hour at a theme park. Compared to the years I spent there, it just wasn't the same.
photo taken by Greg L. Jones-Texas Renaissance Festival 2005
http://www.pbase.com/wyojones/image/102783947
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