As I grow too big for my celestial soul, my outer shell stretches and strains to fit all of me. In the end, when I shrink back into stardust and am distributed by the anemoi, what is left is paper thin and torn. The biological latex of the ‘left-behind’ reveals a terrific mask system.
FOr when the mask slips.
Made of acrylic paints, I illustrated my friend in 2022 to display the mask left behind when one decides to become true. At first, the painting simply showed ripped up skin from the face, but as I looked at the painting more, I decided to extend the skin to provide an otherworldly feeling.
“…And though I can hide my cold gaze and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable; I simply am not there”
~ Patrick Bateman, American Psycho.
Shrisha's Room. 