Looking beyond the physical, we all wear psychological masks to some extent. The ego feels too vulnerable to fully expose itself to the world. We fear judgment or rejection, so we protect ourselves. Like a battle shield, we hold up an image of our social self… a mask.
Over time, these buffers become a collection of rigid identities. We put on ‘jovial’ or ‘confident’ or ‘indifferent’: superficial symbols with which we interact, hiding our true selves behind many layers. We take off one mask, only to reveal another, and call ourselves complex beings. But our dreams are not fooled by this camouflage.
While the ego sleeps, dreams gnaw down to the bones of truth, stripping away our hollow illusions and misconceptions. Dreams point towards the mysterious source of our consciousness and our true identity. So...who are you?
These images are for sale as Fine Art Prints - details below.
(Due to Covid-19, sales are offered in Australia only)
Click on thumbnail for full size image
(Please note - Due to Covid-19 conditions, sales are currently limited.)
All images in this series are available as Limited Edition archival prints on fine art photo paper. Each one is signed and numbered on the front, just below the print.
Prints come in 2 different sizes:
- Medium (edition of 15) - image size: 625mm x 415mm
- Large (edition of 8) - image size: 1200mm x 800mm
The Image sizes are of the printed area; the actual paper size is about 20-25% larger, and includes a white border.
For availability and price, please contact me here, or email : email@example.com.
Part of this series was shown at my June 2014 exhibition called "Looking Out | Looking In", at Black Eye Gallery in Sydney. This was a prominent gallery of fine art photography located in the suburb of Darlinghurst. It has subsequently moved to an online-only presence.
You stand at this looking glass gazing
Through thin slits,
Only to recognize a tired dream, again.
The muffled grin screams:
Where is this being, this I?
…But… what of the agony of truth…and fate?
I am cowering behind
This blithe reflection…
Death will come for the whole of you
(And destiny can be persuaded),
But for now
That tortured smile has died, it serves no more.
Starved of sincerity for years,
Atrophied, exhausted… It’s dead! Rip it off
And bury it somewhere
Far, unmarked. Then…
Offer your raw skin to dread and to desire;
To fear and to love.
Howl when fierce lust mutilates your senses, or
As the cutting frost of grief
Scours out stark flesh.
Turn that carved countenance to the world!
…naked, wide-eyed awake…
I scan my mottled glyphs.