The Scream

Revisiting some older self portraits and telling the story from my future self’s perspective. A sort of inventory on the occasion of having spent 20 years in France.

That white plaster mask was everything I was looking for that day, years ago. The discomfort of searching in the pregnant space between idea/feeling, and creating the thing/the art. I hadn’t had any therapy yet, and more parts of myself were hidden from my consciousness than they are today. Playing in front of the camera was the first place they started to come through.

I couldn’t look myself/the camera lens in the eye. Today, looking at this photo, that’s what I see first. I remember trying to look at the camera, and then looking away. Some part of me wanted to scream but the rest of me wouldn’t allow it, so I used a mask.

I could feel my discomfort reflected back at me when I looked directly at the camera. But what was it? And at who? At me? My family? The world? The neighbours? And why was I confronting myself with the camera, that recorded more than I knew I was expressing?

I was trying to express something I didn’t have words for, and was apprehensive about seeing. With a small amount of courage, in my studio as a resident at 59 Rivoli, I was playing artist. Feeling full-on imposter. Summoning inspiration. Using found objects to “test my light.” I couldn’t even say I was making self portraits until it became obvious. I’d say I was just testing the light on myself, before a portrait shoot.

I noticed the theme of voice/ sound/ silence/ auto-censorship was recurring. I continued to show up. There was something inside me pushing back at the creativity that urged to push forward. It was a vicious judge, and I didn’t yet know that I could tell it to get in the friggin back seat. So it’s like I was flooring it, trying to get onto the highway in second gear. I can still feel what that was like (and sometimes still is!), that made me want to scream exactly like that plaster face!

At the time, I judged this photo as not good enough. I didn’t like what I was wearing, I didn’t like the light, or my hair. I’d made it too fast, without thinking about all the details. I tried to re-make it later, but the mask was lost and I never found a replacement. So I accept it as it is. A stepping-stone on the path of self-understanding.