Masks
I’m currently in the middle of working on our winter issue of PinkPlayMags. This issue’s theme is Burlesque and a really interesting sub-textual topic has come up in a number of the articles: The Masks We Wear.
My sister‘s instalment this issue in her column is called just that. As I was reading it through and editing, it struck a number of personal chords on insights I’ve been experiencing of late. (Sorry, no spoilers, you’ll have to wait until the issue comes out! I’ll do a follow-up post where I speak directly about her article. I know, such a tease, eh? But isn’t that was good burlesque is all about?)
Doing a quick google for images on masks I was struck by something very intersesting: most of the images of women in masks were elegant, beautiful and mysterious in a seductive way; conversely, those of men in masks were all horrorific or of the lucha libre sort, with the odd super-hero thrown in for good measure. I took from these images that women seem to use their masks to tease and entice, whereas men use them as a warning or armour to protect themselves from prying eyes.
Well all this has me thinking. When you are writing characters, you are typically stripping away these masks so that your reader has a chance to see what really lies at the core of the people in your stories. However, they must remain in place amongst these same characters in order for them to maintain their relationships in said story. Tearing them off for all to see, often becomes a pivotal moment of character transformation, forever altering — sometimes outright destroying — their evolutionary path in the story.
Fantastic examples that spring to mind are:
Jean Grey‘s Phoenix persona: was it just her repressed passions, or her dark side made manifest?
The knights’ elaborate, mask-like helmets in the John Boorman film, Excalibur, showed the personae of the wearers.
In Twilight, Rosalie Cullen, though she acts cold to Bella at first, reveals that she actually envies Bella and is sad on the inside because of her inability to get pregnant.
Everyone of any importance on Babylon 5, as summed up by G’Kar’s word of warning to Catharine Sakai: “No one here is exactly what he appears. Not Mollari, not Delenn, not Sinclair… and not me.” I thoroughly enjoyed Babylon 5 because of the intricate masks all the characters wore — it was like they had one for every significant relationship in the series.
In Avatar The Last Airbender, Prince Zuko, is introduced as a ruthless, conceited bully who cares only about himself and looks down on everyone, when in reality, he’s just a kid who wants his father to be proud of him. His sister, Princess Azula, pretends to be a secure, strong, cold woman, but it’s revealed that she’s horribly lonely and desperate for her dead mother’s approval.
So like the masks themselves, this whole idea of hiding yourself while continually seeking to discover what’s behind the masks of others, ends up being an irresistibly delicious conflict and why they make for such compelling stories.
And yet, my personal struggle continues to be one where I long to strip off all my masks so I can just be accepted for who I am, but beyond the terror of exposing myself so completely, I think my greatest fear lies in the fact that I’m unsure who I am without them: am I merely the sum total of all my personal masks waiting to be collectively assimilated, or am I something beyond all that?
Makes for an intriguing story, doesn’t it?
Broken Mask by Bas Hessels
Remembering
Without stories, how would we remember anything? Before stories were written down, every single culture in the world kept memory alive through oral tradition, telling stories around the fire at night. Two of the most vital and primal things in our lives have always been: the warmth of a fire and our need to tell the stories that matter to us.
Stories entertain, they make us laugh, sometimes cry, but most of all a good story teaches us something. Even if it’s a very simple tale, like a conversation between two people, we always walk away having learned something, at least about the person we’ve been talking to, if not about ourselves.
I remember hearing stories about the War from my Grandparents. Grandpa stayed home to work on the family farm, feeding the troops. Grandma was in the Women’s Land Army. It was a tough time, but I always recall how proudly they both spoke of their involvement. One of my favourite stories comes from that era. You see, my Grandparents were brought together by the war. Grandma used to cycle past Home Farm, where my Grandfather grew up, every day to and from her job during the war. His eye, caught by the pretty young woman on the bike, Grandpa started waiting for her to pass as he worked in the fields. Romance sparked and the rest is our family story.
Both my grandparents survived the war, as did my father’s father, who was in the Navy. But many, many loved ones were lost so that we could enjoy the freedoms we now take for granted. So today’s story is their’s. One of bravery, courage in the face so much horror, pride and a fierce determination to provide a better world for their children to live in. If we pay attention to these important stories, then it’s less easy for us to get lost along the way and make the same mistakes that cause others to lay down their lives to protect us against the tragedy of war.
So today, I am remembering, lest we forget.
(I just learned that Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, who wrote “In Flanders Fields” was from Guelph, which is where most of my relatives live. A local boy…)
A Good Read
So I had a wonderful time being loaned out as a book at the Toronto Ref Library on Saturday, as part of their Human Library.
My first borrower was an elderly lady by the name of Joan. Joan and I pass each other every Monday morning as I’m leaving my therapist’s office and she’s waiting outside for her turn. I have no idea what’s drawn me to her, but I always thought she was sweet and figured since we see each other once a week, every week for ages now, I should smile and say HI. She’s always complimented me on how warm my smile is and my heart always feels a little warmer as I thank her for reflecting my smile back at me. A great way to start a Monday, if you ask me. I’d been thinking of asking Joan for coffee or tea sometime, just to get to know her a little better, when she read my mind and asked me first, just last week. I immediately thought of suggesting she take me out on loan from the library, as it would be a wonderful opportunity for us to get to know each other. Turns out it was. It was an enjoyable first chapter for us both and we’ve decided to make a habit of spending an afternoon together in the future over a warm beverage, so we can trade stories.
I only had one other person take me out on loan, but both my sessions ran close to an hour — double the allotted time. Elaine and I had a deep conversation about telling our stories and fighting — and losing — the protracted battle for a happy ending in the wake of a tragedy. It was a tough conversation. I like to be able to help, especially if I am out of my depth and with no answers. I was able to walk away though, empowered by the support I was able to offer. Elaine is such a font of valuable and wise information — I hope she finds the strength to let her lost battle be the key to someone else’s win against the war on compassionate medical care for the elderly and disabled. It’s too easy for the doctors and hospitals to sweep aside patient understanding for dismissive “I know what I’m doing.”
While I was sitting on the “shelf” with the other books I had a wicked time chatting with my fellows up for being borrowed:
Lyndsay: You are truly inspiring to have defied death at such a young age and with such a wonderful sense of humour about it all; I’m serious about being your ghost writer if you ever want to tell your story.
Beth: Keep up the wonderful work — independent presses are what keep our reading experiences rich.
Andrea: It was so nice to grab some face time with you finally — thanks for the crash course in Twitter 101!
Vani: You were an über popular book and I’m disappointed we didn’t get more shelf time; I made the jump to Twitter, so look me up and we can share the experience as newbies.
Nick: Your bravery and ability to remain open-minded in the face of potential oppressors is awesome! Don’t ever let narrow minded fear or intimidation stand in your way of the good work you’re doing.
Shawn: Never got to flip pages with you, but I aspire to be as plugged in to urban culture as you seem to be.
Catherine: It was great to connect over telling great stories, no matter the drudgery of transcription woes.
Chris: You are an unsung hero standing up for one of the city’s most undervalued infrastructures — without the TTC, where would Toronto be?
Donovan: Truly a pleasure to meet such an accomplished and easy-going writer, such as yourself; I look forward to running into you again.
Finally a HUGE thank you to Ab, Ken and most of all Anne Marie for organizing such a phenomenal event. I am so first in line for being on regular loan if you ever establish a permanent collection. Just one of the reasons libraries are vital to cities and the people in them.
…I’m really looking forward to being a borrower next year.
Human Libary
(The Pilobolus Human Alphabet photographed by John Kane)
omorrow I am going to be a Human Book!
I’m pretty excited about this. Last Saturday all the human books in Toronto had their orientation and I have to say, we’re a pretty interesting collection! What is a human book you may be asking yourself? Simply, a human book is a person with an unique story, often one that will give you insight into something you do not know about, or may have misconstrued preconceptions about, which the human book will gently break the myths around. It’s a learning experience and a one-on-one chance to have questions you may have always had answered, or to learn something new form someone cool. You can go and check out the full deal here, or read the article I wrote about it here in our most recent issue of autumnplay!
So, swing on by the branch closest to you (Downtown = Toronto Ref; North = North York; East = Cedarbrae; West = Richview) and take one of us out on loan for half-an-hour. Chat with us and walk away with a new experience, wiser for having connected and read.
I know we’re all very excited to see what interesting people will check us out!
Looking forward to meeting you.
Jeff Harrison
Jeff Harrison 