Michal Chelbin likes to photograph people “who have a legendary quality in them; a mix between odd and ordinary.” Her debut book of photographs, “Strangely Familiar: Acrobats, Athletes and Other Traveling Troupes,” shows a collection of odd/ordinary people, shot at circuses and athletic groups in Israel, England and Eastern Europe. Haunting and exquisite, the book offers proof that the boundaries between the so-called “odd” and “ordinary” are often more porous than we might think.

Like her subjects, Chelbin herself isn’t easy to categorize. Her images are too carefully composed to be called documentary photographs, but her compassion for her subjects makes her more of a “concerned photographer” than some of her art photographer peers, who approach their work more clinically. Clearly, her work is influenced by Diane Arbus, August Sander and Mary Ellen Mark (who has also photographed circus performers). But Chelbin is also emphatically herself.

Born in Israel, Chelbin studied art at the WIZO Academy of Design and Education in Haifa. One of her early works was a study of a young Russian girl, Vitalina, whose family had emigrated to Israel. With her wide, somber eyes and flowing Pre-Raphaelite hair, Vitalina seems like an ancient wood sprite transported to contemporary Israel. [See images of her on Michal Chelbin’s Web site, www.michalchelbin.com.] In many ways, she’s a prototype for this current body of work.

In “Strangely Familiar,” Chelbin photographs her subjects head-on, in simple, clean compositions that lead us toward their faces. The portraits are classically beautiful, with serene, balanced compositions, but there’s always something a bit jarring about them, too. Young female performers stand ramrod-straight, wearing flouncy stage costumes that lend them an air of glamor – but their jaded, world-weary expressions imply that their lives are anything but glamorous. Portraits of athletes show perfect bodies marred by bruises and bandages. In “Pitchou and the Mongolians, England, 2003” a dwarf poses next to a tall Mongolian woman, and, just to emphasize the difference, he crouches.

Chelbin is particularly fascinated by the children who’ve given over their lives to become performers. Some of them are orphans, others are abused and mistreated, and we see hints of threat in the images. In some of the portraits of girls, shadowy male figures lurk in the backgrounds or around the edges of the images. Even in an image that’s superficially more languid and pastoral, like “Angelica with Her Father, Israel, 2005,” there’s an uneasiness in the way the father clutches his tutu-clad daughter to his chest as he stands in a deserted lake. Is he protecting her out of love, or because she’s a valuable asset? Holding her close for her own safety, or because of his own need?

Chelbin’s work isn’t about answering these questions: instead, it’s about creating visual archetypes that enable us to ponder them. As Diane Arbus would have said, these photographs are “a secret about a secret” – each image becomes a little mystery in its own right. Shot in interiors with richly-patterned fabrics and wallpaper, or in lush natural settings, the images have a fairytale quality. But even so, we can recognize something universal here: the young boy’s bravado, the adolescent’s pout, the aging performer’s resignation. These are people living hard-knock lives in distant places, but they’re not so different from us after all. Perhaps that’s the secret.