Apparition

"She was made of fog and shadow until Kate caught her eye,

and then, all at once, she became human."

--Erin Bow, Plain Kate

Self portrait 12-11-13

"We only pass everything by

like a transposition of air."

-- Rainer Maria Rilke, Duino Elegies

"Extract the eternal from the ephemeral."

-- Charles Baudelaire

Death becomes her

Rory:  "So what do you think?"

Dean:  "I think you look like a cotton ball."

Rory:  "Why, thank you, Jeeves."

Dean:  "But a really cute cotton ball."

-- Gilmore Girls, 

Season 2 Episode 6: "Presenting Lorelai Gilmore"

Cotton ball skull face with black eyeliner 11-13-13

"She has enough black eyeliner on to outline a corpse,

and her skin's so pale she looks like she's just broken dawn."

-- John Green, Will Grayson, Will Grayson

Sometimes inspiration comes in everyday places. The bathroom, for instance.

I was putting on makeup when I noticed a couple of Q-tips on the sink edge, forming an X. They looked like crossbones, so I popped a cotton ball next to them and, well.

I don't know about you, but I suck at applying liquid eyeliner. I've never been good at it. I get it everywhere but where it's supposed to go. I usually end up using a Q-tip to erase my mistakes, which usually just smudges them even more, making the whole thing worse. So in addition to this being a super cute puffball skull face, it is also my commentary on how I feel about liquid eyeliner.

Nothing lasts forever

"Nothing in the world is permanent,

and we're foolish when we ask anything to last,

but surely we're still more foolish

not to take delight in it while we have it."

-- W. Somerset Maugham, The Razor's Edge

Self portrait 10-23-13

"I'm not scared for myself for dying.

Because I believe all these places are temporary.

This is just one shell."

-- Israel Kamakawiwo'ole

"Graffiti's always been a temporary art form.

You make your mark and then they scrub it off."

-- Banksy

"... and here's a secret for you --

everything beautiful is sad ...

gilded with impermanence ..."

-- John Geddes, A Familiar Rain

Most of the time, when I do a self portrait that involves a lot of makeup or face paint, it takes longer to put the face on than it does to take the picture.

It's not unusual for me to spend an hour or more getting ready for a 10 or 15 minute photo shoot. As soon as I'm satisfied with what I have in the camera, I go slather my face with cold cream and scrub the whole thing off. (For the record, I go through a lot of cold cream.)

I get a particular thrill knowing that the ho-hum rest of the world is out there doing it's mundane thing while I am hidden away in my private happy place, elaborately (if temporarily) disguised as the Bride of Frankenstein, or Medusa, or a zombie, or a pirate, or, for today's face, a Day of the Dead skull.

Most of the time, nobody else ever sees me in the actual makeup. I put it on, I get the shot, I wash it off. Nobody's the wiser. Until the next day when I post the image or images here on the blog. But by the time you see it here, for me the moment is over and I'm onto the next face.

I love the mystery of having a kind of secret double life.  Though I guess it's more than a double life, actually, because the math can multiply by however many faces I can come up with.

When I go out, I'm just me. But when I'm working on a portrait, I can be anybody I want to be, for a little while anyway.

MT

"One need not be a chamber to be haunted."

-- Emily Dickinson,
"Part Four: Time and Eternity"

Self portrait 10-14-13

"Ourself, behind ourself concealed,

Should startle most."

-- Emily Dickinson,
"Part Four: Time and Eternity"

"I am empty of everything.

I am empty of everything but the thin, 

frail ghosts in my room."

-- Jean Rhys, Good Morning, Midnight

I made this paper mache skull mask as part of my 2012 "No Day Without Art" 365 days project.
Making this mask (and two other companion masks) was definitely one of my favorite projects from that year. Amazingly, I've never used any of them in a self portrait, until now.

Taking this guy out of his box made me want to make more masks.

Death mask

"We all must die. 

There is no better way to do so 

than in the pursuit of something you love."

-- Jim Butcher, Death Masks

Wood mannequin with a skull mask 9-21-13

"I'm dealing with a lot of scary things. 

I think you have to react to them. 

And you either laugh at them or you go insane."

-- Jim Butcher, Death Masks

Inside out

"Beauty is how you feel inside,

and it reflects in your eyes."

-- Sophia Loren

Self portrait 8-1-13

"I love the confidence that makeup gives me."

-- Tyra Banks

Self portrait (2) 8-1-13

"Telling an introvert to go to a party 

is like telling a saint to go to Hell." 

-- Chriss Jami

I am an introvert.

That comes as a surprise to some people, because I am also a performer.
People can't wrap their minds around what they see as a disconnect -- how can somebody who likes being onstage in front of an audience also be an introvert? It doesn't add up.

Well, I'm not a mathematician either. But I do know I'm not the only actor who finds solace and comfort in inside the skin of a character, who takes refuge in being someone who is not them.

Costumes. Makeup. Dialect. Somebody else's words to speak. Someone else's problems to solve. Someone else's life to live. It's the perfect hiding place.

You get to feel confident, because you've rehearsed.
You know your lines.
You don't have to be anxious about what you're going to say. The words are handed to you in a script. You are not allowed to add or subtract. You say exactly what's on the page.

You don't have to be self conscious, because you know what to do. How to stand. What to do with your arms. You don't have to worry about any of that shit, because all of your movements and actions are worked out in rehearsal. You do them over and over, again and again, for weeks, until they are right, and automatic, and essential. Perfect.

You don't have to wonder how you're ever going to get out of this place, away from all of these people, and you don't have the pressure of sustaining friendships and work relationships with any of them.
After about six weeks, rehearsals end.
A few weeks after that, plays end.
Performances last about two hours and they're done.
You may work with some of the same people in the future.
And others you will never, ever see again.

For now, you can get in your car, alone, and drive home, alone.
In complete and utter silence, if you like.
No chatting necessary.
Thank God.

The trouble for an introvert like me isn't performing on a stage. It is performing in real life.
When I have to be me, and say my own words, and make my own moves, my confidence falters.
My insecurities kick in.
My anxiety revs into high gear.
Fortunately, my acting skills usually kick in too, and I can improvise convincingly enough to get me through.

Yesterday I had to attend a meeting of all the football moms.
I wanted to go, for my son. It was really important to him. He kept asking me, "Are you going to the moms meeting?" Like he wasn't sure I'd be able to man up and go.
I can understand why he might feel that way. He knows my weaknesses.
But because it was so important to him, it was also really important to me, so of course I went.

I'm sure it's all in my imagination, but those gatherings of all those women feels to me like swimming with sharks, or walking the gauntlet ... it's junior high all over again and I feel like troll girl in my boys' jeans, black t-shirt and Doc Martens, trying to keep my buzzed head down as I navigate the crush of perky girls, and pretty girls, and mean girls, and cliques, and peer pressure ("Sign up to sell 50/50 tickets!!!" "Don't miss the family beach picnic!!!!")
So much tan.
So much pink.
So much hair, and makeup, and fingernails, and sandals, and pedicures, and energy.
So much ... much.

My introverted little soul was scared shitless before I even left the house.

So before I went, I put on my makeup.
My skull makeup.
I painted my face, not expertly, but as best I could in the limited time I had, and then I took pictures of myself. I felt beautiful and strong, creative and capable, but in my own secret and introverted way.

And then I washed my face. I dabbed on a little bit of regular boring makeup, and went to the meeting.

Even though I washed it off, the process of painting on skull makeup and taking the photos -- all of it gave me the confidence boost I needed.

Yay! Art therapy!

I guess it's a little like an Indian brave putting on war paint, or a soldier camouflaging his face, or a football player smearing on eye-black. I felt ready and able to swim with those sharks, to walk that gauntlet and be there for my son.

I'm really proud of him, and I want him to be proud of me.
I don't want him to ever feel afraid that I'll leave him hanging, or embarrass him, or make him feel unloved because I didn't show up.

Anyway, I only know how to be the mom that I am, and hopefully I'm the mom that my sons need.

And maybe those other moms aren't so bad after all.
I'm sure some of them are just as insecure and introverted as I am.
Maybe the tans and the nails and the hair is their war paint. Maybe that's what they need to put on so that they can feel ready and able, so that they can show up for their sons.
Some of them are actually pretty nice, and they do a lot of really great stuff for the boys, mine included.
The truth is, those moms get shit done.
They do a lot of stuff that I simply can't do, and seriously, I need moms like them to fill my gaps.

  

Laid to rest

"Wanderers eastward, wanderers west,

Know you why you cannot rest?

'Tis that every mother's son

Travails with a skeleton."

-- A.E. Housman, A Shropshire Lad

Self portrait 7-30-13

"The longest way must have its close --

the gloomiest night will wear on to a morning."

-- Harriet Beecher Stowe, Uncle Tom's Cabin

Self portrait (2) 7-30-13

"Might there come a time

When we stand over a grave

And mourn ourselves?

Mourn the past, a previous life?

Shall we weep for the passing of time?

Shall we grieve for unfulfilled dreams?

In my naivety; in my belief

In immortal youth, 

I sleep walk through life.

Someone ... wake me up.

Please.

Wake me up.” 

-- Samantha Young, Slumber

Today could potentially be kind of a big deal.

Today I am driving to a city about an hour and a half away, to a hospital with a sleep disorders center, to meet with a specialist who deals with chronic insomnia, to maybe, possibly, lay my sleep troubles to rest.

I am cautiously, tentatively optimistic.

Today could be the start of something good. 

It could be a step towards living again, towards reclaiming my life, which feels like it has been circling the drain for months -- dying a slow death, too exhausted and too wasted from sleep deprivation to do much else.

I've read and learned enough  about insomnia to understand that a permanent, non-pharmaceutical solution won't be easy and will probably involve a lot of hard work and effort. 

I'm prepared for that. 

The bright, hopeful side of me is, anyway.

I think.

   

I am also realistically, skeptically wary.

Today could big a big flop.

The specialist could tell me that a permanent, non-pharmaceutical solution is an impossible dream as she hands over a prescription and laughs like a cartoon villain. Bwaaa haaa haaa!

The specialist could simply say "You're fucked."

I'm prepared for that, too.

The darker, cynical, jaded side of me is, anyway.

Either way, I have to at least try.

And I will. Try.

Because I want insomnia to be something I once had. 

I want it to be a memory.

A bad dream that I was forced to stay awake for.

A visitor that came and way, way way overstayed its welcome, but ultimately left.

I want it dead.

A ghost.

A skeleton.

I want it, and me, to rest in peace.

Aaaaaarrrr! A pirate's face for me!

"Life's pretty good, 

and why wouldn't it be?

I'm a pirate, after all."

-- Johnny Depp

Self portrait 7-17-13

“A taste for adventure is by no means a masculine monopoly.”

-- Lloyd Alexander

“I do not see, for there is no I to see. 

That is what the pirates know. 

There is only seeing and, 

in order to go to see, one must be a pirate.”

-- Kathy Acker 

"I have a pirate fetish --

 I just always thought eye patches were sexy."

-- Michelle Branch

So, remember how yesterday I said I might start wearing an eye patch to hide my fluttering, twitchy eye?

To quote myself, I said,

"I'm thinking about wearing an eye patch.
A really cool-looking, bad ass eye patch.
It could be my thing.
I could be that cool, bad ass chick with the eye patch."

Well, I went one step further and made myself a bad ass pirate eye patch.

And once I'd made the pirate eye patch, really the only logical next step was to actually dress up like a pirate and wear it for a self portrait. Besides, it was a perfect excuse to try out my tarantula neck tattoo.

Granted, I don't look much like a chick, but I still think I look pretty cool.
Pretty bad ass.
And that fluttering eye thing?
You can't even notice it behind the skull and crossbones and dozen metal spikes.

I totally love it that my kids don't even flinch when I do shit like this.

While I was finishing up this costume, my 18-year-old son, Sam, came home from his responsible, normal, grown-up, big kid job.

I should have been fixing supper, but instead I was upstairs blacking my teeth when he came into my bathroom.

He was like, "Hey, whatcha doing?"
And I was like, "Dressing up like a pirate."
And he went, "OK. Do I have time to mow a couple of lawns before supper?"
And I was like, "Sure."

I love my family.

I mean, you know, when I'm not at sea, swashbuckling and avasting ye hearties and plundering and getting booty and lots of other super-adventurous, dangerous pirate-y stuff.

Bone head

"It is not my intention to be fulsome,

but I confess that I covet your skull."

-- Arthur Conan Doyle, The Hound of the Baskervilles

 

Self portrait  7-15-13

“Life's true face is the skull.”

-- Nikos Kazantzakis

Self portrait (2) 7-15-13

“The trauma said, ‘Don’t write these poems.
Nobody wants to hear you cry about the grief inside your bones.”

-- Andrea Gibson, The Madness Vase