Mask

The mask is my own face--my skin, my color, my countenance. It is me, hidden, but on the outside. My humanity which stands between my self and your mask, it seems to protect and cover and I feel as though I can be still, abiding behind, but in reality it is still skin--still exposed. My body is my mask, because it stands as a mediator between my soul and the world outside.

Though I can't see my mask fitting perfectly into any pre- or post-modern category, if I had to choose one I would place it as a sort of simulacra, because the external skin acts as what Baudrillard would call a "perceived reality" unable to contain or accurately depict the true reality of the soul behind the skin. What I'm trying to portray here is the limited nature of an image; that the soul penetrates so much deeper than any sort of simulacra a frame may contain. It's like the difference between two and three dimensions; a person is infinitely deeper than their image. Reality stands behind the frame, though so often I allow my mind to get wrapped up in the flatness of the image on top. If there's one thing I learned through this project, it's to never allow myself to be content with just knowing someone's face-skin and not the reality underneath.