(True fact: After writing this entire thing, I just DID delete the paragraph that I'd written first. It had nothing to do with the rest of this. It's SO weird that this happens EVERY time).
Instead of blathering on about some stupid opinion I have right now, then, I'll write about what's currently on my mind: Masks.
Some people can arrange their lives like concentric ripples; family, job and maybe a hobby in the center, and all other interests radiating outward in order of priority. I, on the other hand, don't exactly wish I was one of those people, but my life is more like every element is one of a million ball-bearings, all of which are in a perpetual state of just having been dropped, and are now bouncing and rolling all over the place, and sometimes I wish just a few of them would stay in my pocket. I'd need at least a dozen lives to fully explore all that interests me, so I wind up fairly constantly focusing on one thing and being distracted by another.
Look at me now, for fuck's sake. I'm sitting here at 5am doing some self-indulgent wanking in the form of writing, instead of getting sleep. If I was supposed to be writing, though, I'd probably fall asleep. Anyway, masks.
One of my great passions is costumes. I'm not into the Ren Faire thing or Comic convention cosplay (although, having one foot in the comics industry, I do like seeing some of the more amazing ones people come up with), but I do like inventing wearable artwork. I can drape clothes on a mannequin, draft patterns, sew, knit and crochet, of course, but what really floats my boat is starting from there and throwing in wire, feathers, beads, glitter, Austrian crystals, embroidery, plaster, latex, plastic skulls, acrylic paint, glass, gemstones, and damn near anything else that seems to either go with whatever it is or assist in the structure. LOVE it.
Back in a year that will remain unspecified, I was the "Angel of Death" for Halloween. I constructed my costume using a pair of old umbrellas, gauze, marabou, ostrich feathers, glitter, spray paint and white duct tape for the wings, and then I made a white corset with all sorts of white glittery things on it (I WISH I'd thought to make it out of latex), strapped it on over a fluffy white something (was it a dress? I dunno... coulda been just a bunch of fabric I slapped together), covered all my exposed bits with makeup and topped it off with a sword and some chain-mail hand thingie I had lying around (as one does). It bugs me to this day that the white wig I had went AWOL on the night in question, so I had to improvise with the spray stuff, and that I ran out of time and didn't get to festoon my massive, 7" high, silver-glitter platform heels with rhinestones. I only have one photo of me in the getup, and it's not a very good one, but here it is:
And, yes, that's my friend's hand on my boob. See the Angel of Death? Grab her boob.
It is customary among my people.
What the hell was I talking about? Oh, right. Masks.
So, I've been increasingly obsessed of late with segueing from making jewelry to making masks. I have a long history of making silver, gold and beaded jewelry, and some of my work has even been published, but I don't feel like my aesthetic translates well sometimes. I've frequently wound up with really cool components (like a stone I set into something), but no finished piece, so I wind up just farting around with them for months. As it turns out, masks seem to be the perfect venue for some of them, so now I make elaborate masks reminiscent of those at the Venice Carnival (where I hope to go one day).
It got me thinking, though, about WHY I love costumes so much. It's not that I want to be something or someone else for any length of time. I don't think I know how to be anyone other than myself, and I can't help but think I'd get really confused if I tried. What I concluded, however, was that I DO want to look like something/someone else pretty much all the time, and the reasons are a little sad.
I don't fish for compliments, because I don't expect them, and manipulating a compliment out of someone is cheating anyway. The problem is that some things are difficult to explain to anyone because there's no good response to it, so no matter how badly I want to try and make someone else understand what this is like, the only place I can write about it is here, because you're not in front of me, faced with the choice of voicing an opinion one way or another.
The following IS a bit of a whiny rant, though, so read it if you want to, but you've been warned.
I am not an attractive woman. I'm short (slightly under 5 feet), around a size 8 or 10, and I have kind of a weird look. Almost invariably, women tell me I have a classic beauty, like a '30's actress. Also almost invariably, men blip over me as if I were invisible. It's an odd contrast, and actually kind of interesting. If only I was a lesbian, I'd have it made in the shade, but alas, I'm not interested in anything but a man I can sink my claws into. (Not only that, but I have the world's strangest taste in men. If you lined up all of my past boyfriends, my ex-husband, my unrequited interests and celebrity crushes, you'd be hard pressed to find a common visual theme. They just have to be smart, weird and funny, not necessarily in that order).
However, I'm thinking back over the years, and I think I've been asked out on a date maybe twice? That's just a guess... I can't actually recall EVER being asked out (I've always dated people who were friends of mine first). I HAVE, however, been asked to the junior prom by one guy who needed a date because he was the only one who didn't have one (I didn't go), I almost got suckered into being someone's date at a "pig party" (a friend saved me from that one, thank goodness), the single blind-date I went on resulted in the guy ditching me after 10 minutes, and once (charmingly), I was used as the subject of a bet (long story). When out with friends, I'm always the "last choice" chick. Granted, my female friends are wonderful and they are truly all gorgeous, but I've gotten so used to being the one cleaning up at the end of the party instead of going home with someone that I no longer expect anything else. Truth be told, the available options are sometimes unpalatable enough that this is rather a relief, but even my own father has never told me I'm beautiful. Smart, creative, articulate... those I get all the time, but never pretty. I have absolutely no idea what it's like to have a man (with no obvious psychological issues) look at me and think I'm beautiful.
Now, ultimately, I really am happy being everything BUT pretty most of the time. Someone asked me once whether I'd rather be gorgeous and stupid or smart and plain, and I said that if I could be gorgeous and just stupid enough to not KNOW I'm stupid, I'd opt for that one. Why not? Smart, funny and creative has gotten me nowhere (lost the husband to a blonde, can't get a job, etc.), so why the hell not? It must be kind of relaxing to be an idiot.
Oddly, the majority of my friends are male, though I only have interest in two that I can think of. One is "the perfect guy" but he has a... let's just say a commitment, and the other I adore like crazy but he has no interest in me (and yes, I brought the topic up in clear language, which is why I know, and I'm totally cool with it. It's not something I pine over. I'm that used to this sort of thing).
So, basically, "Waaaah, waaaah, waaaaah, I'm unattractive and shallow enough to care." Cue violins.
As such, you could probably see this coming from a mile off, but this is one reason I love to obscure my appearance with loads of makeup, fake eyelashes, wigs, masks and any other contraptions I can think of. If I do so with skill, I wind up being cool-looking, intentionally entertaining and/or at least secondary to the costume elements.
I've been making masks recently mostly as an art form, and if I get enough of them done I'll try to market them, or at least maybe get a gallery show. I use acrylic paint, beads, gemstones, bronze bits, glass chunks, shells, coins, mirrors, chains, and I just figured out how to put little LED lights in them. I'm working on ones inspired by Dia de Los Muertos, some monster designs I've been playing with, traditional carnival designs, brocade patterns and some are inspired by friends' artwork (credit will be given where due).
The real trick was figuring out the substrate. The sparkly bits are almost a no-brainer, but a mask that you CAN sew elements on is irritatingly difficult to find or create. The needle is so fine that the substrate has to be soft enough for it to go through, but flexible and sturdy enough to actually hold the beads, etc., which can be heavy. Commercially produced plain masks run from cheap plastic ones (gross), to plastic covered in fabric (needle won't go through), to paper mache masks covered in a hard medium that a needle also won't go through. I tried making some myself using "Mod Podge," my own paper mache, felt, gesso, "Stiff Stuff," and a number of other experiments, but none yielded a usable result.
FINALLY, just recently, I found the answer, and I'm not telling. Go figure it out yourself. I'll publish a how-to after I make some money off of the ones I do, dammit. It took me way too much time and a few very lucky guesses to get it right, so I'm holding on to what little edge I have (and I have to say it's been working better than I ever thought it would).
Sorry. Suck it.
Mask photos will be up soon, as soon as I figure out how to obtain decent photos of them.
I guess what I'm saying this evening is that I'm over the moon about how my latest art endeavor has been developing, in part because if I create what I hope to, I may some day wear one of my creations and know what it's like for someone to look at my face and see beauty.
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