Muddled Mask


I am struggling the last few days. This is not a crisis, just a hard place. I am in a wall.

After the amazing peace I felt a few days ago, I thought I could do some collages incorporating photos of myself. I don’t have a lot readily available. Hell I am to lazy to dig them out of hiding. To afraid of looking at them. But I have 3. One my mother had displayed. The other 2 were taken by an artist friend, Bob Kray when I was 21.

Maybe I moved too quickly. Having these images around my studio is a challenge not to fall into negative impulses. I’m sad and mesmerized.

I am struck by this one photo. This is how I presented myself, snarling in a cloud of smoke. Grounded in fury. I loved that mask. It was hard to take it off. Hell I didn’t even know it was there.

It hurt to have to hide who I really was. I think that’s the sadness that’s muddling me right now.


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