I collect clowns.  Some people find it scary because they have a fear of clowns and the very thought of a room full of clown paintings or figurines will no doubt bring on a nightmare or two.

I also collect art but it has to be something that moves me and I find myself sticking with the same artists time and time again.

One afternoon about 30 years ago, I was walking with my husband through a local store, shopping for a new television.  I was stopped in my tracks by a painting I saw at the end of the isle in front of me.  There was something about it that caught my eye and although I couldn’t put my finger on what it was, it was something that I felt all the way to the very core of me.  I wanted this thing. I wanted it bad.  It wasn’t terribly expensive, but we didn’t have a lot of money and it was a purchase we really couldn’t afford, but I had to have it.  I don’t know how to explain the feeling it gave to me.  It was something that I loved but was creeped out by at the same time.  In looking at it I felt both comfort and fear.   But the strongest feeling I had about it, was a knowing, a familiarity.  Almost  … a Déjà vu. 

We hung it in the living room of our apartment and although everyone had a different opinion of it, most everyone seemed to agree they found it creepy  lol.

For years I didn’t make the connection, I just loved it and often found myself getting lost in thought anytime I looked at it.   It was a painting by an artist named Robert Owens.  It is a clown sitting on a cloud with a can of red paint and a paintbrush.  When you look closely, you see that there are faces in the clouds around him.  Some are smiling, others looking grouchy or sad.  With each stroke of his brush he creates another clown and brings the faces to life.


Over the years of moving to a new house and the decades of ever changing décor, I packed up most of my clowns and stored away my paintings.

It wasn’t until a few years ago when going through our storage that I came back upon this painting. It still intrigued me and as I held it in my hands, reviewing all the details about it that I love, I realized that these faces in the clouds were strikingly similar to the faces I see in orbs.

The interesting part is that back when I bought this painting and experienced the Déjà vu, I wasn’t taking photos of orbs.  In fact, I had never heard of orbs or spirit photography or even Mediumship.   I knew I was psychic but at the time I didn’t know that the faces I saw everyday in my head were those faces of the deceased.  Even after all of this (call me stupid) it took another few years before I really understood the connection.

My great nephew wouldn’t speak until he was about 3 years old.  When he was very young, it was evident to me that he could see spirit.  His Mom would call me and tell me that he was talking” gibberish” to the ceiling but he wouldn’t talk to people. He would giggle and watch something unseen as if it were moving about in the room.  Because I live on the other side of the country it took a few weeks before I could get out there to see them.  I spent a few days watching him.  I knew there were spirits in the room and I knew one of them was my Dad. 

My nephew would be playing by himself and then something would catch his eye.  It was an orb up near the ceiling. I could see it move and so could he.  I would take photos with my camera so that the members of my family who couldn’t see them with the naked eye would be able to get an idea of what we were seeing.  My little nephew would smile at them and wave and then start performing for them.  He would climb up on the coffee table and look up at the orb.  Then jump off and roll on the floor and immediately look up to see if they were still watching.  Once he saw they were still there and their apparent applause over his jumping talents, he would get up smiling and do it again. Then he would point to them and look at me to see if I could see them. This would happen over and over.  He had his own spirit audience lol.  One day my niece asked him who he was looking at.  He took her by the hand and walked around the house until he got to the entertainment center.  He got down on his knees and pointed to a photograph in a frame on the bottom shelf behind the smoked glass door.  It was a picture of my Dad, his great Grandfather whom he had never met.  My Dad passed away a few years before he was born.  All of this got me thinking and I flashed back to my childhood.  It was one of those ah ha moments we get in our lives when the fog is lifted and everything makes sense.   The faces in the painting, the faces in the orbs, all were familiar to me, because that is how I started seeing spirit, just like my nephew. I finally made the connection.  I was so young when this began that I had forgotten the bubbles.  My visions changed over the years and some of the orbs became full color images and physical details of those souls who have passed, but that is how it started.  Little balls, like bubbles with faces.  Some were cartoony looking, others grouchy but most were smiling.

I still see orbs, especially at night when the lights are low.  Sometimes they come in and just stay in the same place for a bit.  I will see them move slowly out of the corner of my eye.  Like a white ball of fog or smoke. Sometimes they will zoom past me as I see the streak of light go through the room.  I am a Medium but I don’t have all the answers so I don’t really know why some come in as an orb form and others in a life sized human image, but I am just happy they chose me to come visit.  As long as they are of light and love, they are welcome here.