Edition: U.S. / Global

NEIGHBORHOOD REPORT: NEW YORK UP CLOSE -- BUZZ; Personally, Speaking Clown to Clown: Circus Performers Compare Notes

Published: February 8, 2004

THE SETTING -- A Sunday afternoon at the Omni Health and Fitness Complex in Pelham, just over the Bronx border, where Philippe Vercruyssen, a French trapeze artist turned instructor, has transformed a drab gymnasium into a colorful big top school called Circus Town. There are unicycles, rolling globes, trapeze swings, a trampoline, three kinds of stilts and, on this day, roughly two dozen jugglers, clowns and aerialists who have gathered to ''play'' on the equipment, discuss the challenges of performing in New York City, and marvel at all this space.

THE BUZZ -- After saying hello, the performers kicked off their shoes and hit the blue mats. A fellow named Cypher Zero from Park Slope, Brooklyn, who sported braided hair and a red pirate shirt, stretched vigorously while Elizabeth McMillan, an aerialist from Bushwick, Brooklyn, gracefully ascended a rope called the Spanish Fly. In a corner, a 10-month-old baby swung joyously on a standing trapeze. ''She's fearless,'' said her mother, Lisa Lewis, a clown from Boerum Hill, Brooklyn.

According to one of the organizers, Ruth Juliet Wikler, this get-together was a first.

''The circus scene in New York is very fragmented,'' Ms. Wikler said. ''But we all have common concerns.'' She then coaxed the performers away from the mats and into a small circle, where they ate snacks and introduced themselves. ''I have a booking agency called Cirque du Jour,'' said a man named Chris Allison. ''I was sued by Cirque du Soleil. Apparently, they own the word cirque.'' The group burst into laughter.

Talk then turned to more serious matters, such as where to get cheaper health and liability insurance and how to line up a steady stream of performances. At one point, the issue of pay standards was addressed. ''I was recently asked to perform five sets of 15 minutes each,'' said Ms. McMillan, the aerialist. ''They were only going to pay me $300.''

''People don't understand what we do,'' Mr. Allison said. ''I'll get a call from a corporate planner saying, 'I need a contortionist for four hours.' I say, 'I can give you a contortionist for six minutes, and you better sit down before you hear the price.'''

As the meeting winded down, Stephanie Monseu entered the room. A founder of the Bindlestiff Family Cirkus, Ms. Monseu had been lost in the Bronx for the past two hours, thinking that the Pelham Parkway address meant that the event was in New York City. Many of the attendees had similar difficulty with Mr. Vercruyssen's directions. ''Frenchmen,'' said George Orosz, a small fellow wearing a polka-dotted bowler, and he wandered off to juggle. STEVE KURUTZ

Photo: At a recent meeting, circus performers practiced -- and vented about poor pay and an uninformed public. (Photo by Susan Farley for The New York Times)