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“Pagliacci” — by MAAS
This painting is based on the old joke about the clown Pagliacci — a joke that has always stayed with me because it says so much about pain, identity, and the masks we wear.
A man goes to the doctor and says, “Doctor, I feel depressed. Life seems harsh and cruel. I feel alone in a threatening world.”
The doctor replies, “Treatment is simple. The great clown Pagliacci is in town tonight. Go and see him — that should cheer you up.”
The man looks at the doctor and says, “But doctor… I am Pagliacci.”
This painting lives exactly in that moment.
Pagliacci is about the contradiction of being the one who makes others smile while carrying sadness inside. The bright colours, the exaggerated expression, the theatrical costume — all of it represents performance, humour, and the expectation to be “fine.” But behind that smile sits exhaustion, vulnerability, and emotional weight.
For me, this piece speaks about depression, especially the kind that hides in plain sight. About people who give joy, love, or laughter while quietly struggling themselves. The clown here is not weak — he is human. And his pain doesn’t disappear just because he knows how to entertain.
Pagliacci is my reminder that smiling doesn’t mean you’re okay, and that sometimes the ones who shine the brightest are the ones who need to be seen the most.
“Pagliacci” — by MAAS
This painting is based on the old joke about the clown Pagliacci — a joke that has always stayed with me because it says so much about pain, identity, and the masks we wear.
A man goes to the doctor and says, “Doctor, I feel depressed. Life seems harsh and cruel. I feel alone in a threatening world.”
The doctor replies, “Treatment is simple. The great clown Pagliacci is in town tonight. Go and see him — that should cheer you up.”
The man looks at the doctor and says, “But doctor… I am Pagliacci.”
This painting lives exactly in that moment.
Pagliacci is about the contradiction of being the one who makes others smile while carrying sadness inside. The bright colours, the exaggerated expression, the theatrical costume — all of it represents performance, humour, and the expectation to be “fine.” But behind that smile sits exhaustion, vulnerability, and emotional weight.
For me, this piece speaks about depression, especially the kind that hides in plain sight. About people who give joy, love, or laughter while quietly struggling themselves. The clown here is not weak — he is human. And his pain doesn’t disappear just because he knows how to entertain.
Pagliacci is my reminder that smiling doesn’t mean you’re okay, and that sometimes the ones who shine the brightest are the ones who need to be seen the most.