Masks
My daughter brought these stage masks home from school a few weeks ago. I had been pondering an OCA competition about "Narrative" and as soon as I saw the masks, I knew I wanted a photo shoot with her. But when she put them all on at the same time, and started peeling them off one after the other, I made the connection to narrative and started thinking about all the possibilities where that is concerned. I kept narrative at the back of my mind, but in addition to that, the symbolism around masks kept coming back to me again and again while I did this shoot.
I've always been fascinated by masks - physical masks: African-tribal , Carnival masks, even comic book masks. Add to that, something I read again recently . . . the word person apparently originally referred to the mask which actors wore in Roman times. " Personare" literally means to " sound through" and it is thought to refer to the voice of the actor emerging from behind the mask.
I find it fascinating that, what we deem as so important in the present ( on a individualistic level " me, I, as a person" ) originated from the reference of a " mask" - something that can be "worn" and " removed" and "replaced". We place so much emphasis on who we are as individuals. Phrases such as " To be true to myself" and " I am an individual" is very high on our list of self-descriptive phrases. Why are we so reluctant to admit that we wear masks? Because we do. I'm not that it's a level of deceit, (always) or a clear switch like Jekyll & Hyde. It's more subtle, and it's part of being human. It's part of the many interconnected, fascinating aspects of the self.
I will write more about Narrative and the OCA competition in my next journal entry where I show how I processed these image. But for now, here are the images from my photo shoot without processing.
I leave you with this. It's always had huge significance for me in my life
The mask I wear
Don't be fooled by me.
Don't be fooled by the face I wear
for I wear a mask. I wear a thousand masks-
and none of them are me.
Pretending is an art that's second nature with me
But don't be fooled, for God's sake, don't be fooled.
I give you the impression that I'm secure
That all is sunny and unruffled with me
within as well as without,
that confidence is my name
and coolness my game,
that the water's calm
and I'm in command,
and that I need no one.
But don't believe me. Please!
My surface may be smooth but my surface is my mask,
My ever-varying and ever-concealing mask.
Beneath lies no smugness, no complacence.
Beneath dwells the real me in confusion, in fear, in aloneness.
But I hide this.
I don't want anybody to know it.
I panic at the thought of my weaknesses
and fear exposing them.
That's why I frantically create my masks to hide behind.
They're nonchalant, sophisticated facades to help me pretend,
To shield me from the glance that knows.
But such a glance is precisely my salvation,
my only salvation,
and I know it.
That is, if it's followed by acceptance,
and if it's followed by love.
It's the only thing that can liberate me from myself
from my own self-built prison walls.
I dislike hiding, honestly
I dislike the superficial game I'm playing,
the superficial phony game.
I'd really like to be genuine and me.
But I need your help, your hand to hold
Even though my masks would tell you otherwise
That glance from you is the only thing that assures me
of what I can't assure myself,
that I'm really worth something.
But I don't tell you this.
I don't dare.
I'm afraid to.
I'm afraid you'll think less of me, that you'll laugh
and your laugh would kill me.
I'm afraid that deep-down I'm nothing, that I'm just no good
and you will see this and reject me.
So I play my game, my desperate, pretending game
With a facade of assurance without
And a trembling child within.
So begins the parade of masks,
The glittering but empty parade of masks,
and my life becomes a front.
I idly chatter to you in suave tones of surface talk.
I tell you everything that's nothing
and nothing of what's everything,
of what's crying within me.
So when I'm going through my routine
do not be fooled by what I'm saying
Please listen carefully and try to hear
what I'm not saying
Hear what I'd like to say
but what I can not say.
It will not be easy for you,
long felt inadequacies make my defenses strong.
The nearer you approach me
the blinder I may strike back.
Despite what books say of men, I am irrational;
I fight against the very thing that I cry out for.
you wonder who I am
you shouldn't
for I am every man
and every woman
Don't be fooled by me.
At least not by the face I wear.
~ Author unknown
I've always been fascinated by masks - physical masks: African-tribal , Carnival masks, even comic book masks. Add to that, something I read again recently . . . the word person apparently originally referred to the mask which actors wore in Roman times. " Personare" literally means to " sound through" and it is thought to refer to the voice of the actor emerging from behind the mask.
I find it fascinating that, what we deem as so important in the present ( on a individualistic level " me, I, as a person" ) originated from the reference of a " mask" - something that can be "worn" and " removed" and "replaced". We place so much emphasis on who we are as individuals. Phrases such as " To be true to myself" and " I am an individual" is very high on our list of self-descriptive phrases. Why are we so reluctant to admit that we wear masks? Because we do. I'm not that it's a level of deceit, (always) or a clear switch like Jekyll & Hyde. It's more subtle, and it's part of being human. It's part of the many interconnected, fascinating aspects of the self.
I will write more about Narrative and the OCA competition in my next journal entry where I show how I processed these image. But for now, here are the images from my photo shoot without processing.
I leave you with this. It's always had huge significance for me in my life
The mask I wear
Don't be fooled by me.
Don't be fooled by the face I wear
for I wear a mask. I wear a thousand masks-
and none of them are me.
Pretending is an art that's second nature with me
But don't be fooled, for God's sake, don't be fooled.
I give you the impression that I'm secure
That all is sunny and unruffled with me
within as well as without,
that confidence is my name
and coolness my game,
that the water's calm
and I'm in command,
and that I need no one.
But don't believe me. Please!
My surface may be smooth but my surface is my mask,
My ever-varying and ever-concealing mask.
Beneath lies no smugness, no complacence.
Beneath dwells the real me in confusion, in fear, in aloneness.
But I hide this.
I don't want anybody to know it.
I panic at the thought of my weaknesses
and fear exposing them.
That's why I frantically create my masks to hide behind.
They're nonchalant, sophisticated facades to help me pretend,
To shield me from the glance that knows.
But such a glance is precisely my salvation,
my only salvation,
and I know it.
That is, if it's followed by acceptance,
and if it's followed by love.
It's the only thing that can liberate me from myself
from my own self-built prison walls.
I dislike hiding, honestly
I dislike the superficial game I'm playing,
the superficial phony game.
I'd really like to be genuine and me.
But I need your help, your hand to hold
Even though my masks would tell you otherwise
That glance from you is the only thing that assures me
of what I can't assure myself,
that I'm really worth something.
But I don't tell you this.
I don't dare.
I'm afraid to.
I'm afraid you'll think less of me, that you'll laugh
and your laugh would kill me.
I'm afraid that deep-down I'm nothing, that I'm just no good
and you will see this and reject me.
So I play my game, my desperate, pretending game
With a facade of assurance without
And a trembling child within.
So begins the parade of masks,
The glittering but empty parade of masks,
and my life becomes a front.
I idly chatter to you in suave tones of surface talk.
I tell you everything that's nothing
and nothing of what's everything,
of what's crying within me.
So when I'm going through my routine
do not be fooled by what I'm saying
Please listen carefully and try to hear
what I'm not saying
Hear what I'd like to say
but what I can not say.
It will not be easy for you,
long felt inadequacies make my defenses strong.
The nearer you approach me
the blinder I may strike back.
Despite what books say of men, I am irrational;
I fight against the very thing that I cry out for.
you wonder who I am
you shouldn't
for I am every man
and every woman
Don't be fooled by me.
At least not by the face I wear.
~ Author unknown