PECHA KUCHA

I'm not sure how you pronounce it, but it sure was fun to participate in.  I took part in a Pecha Kucha in Portland, ME at the Space Gallery on Congress St.   If you haven't heard, Pecha Kucha is an opportunity to talk about whatever your art is, from the art of photography, to the art of creating a circus college (really!).  Each "artist" presents 20 slides, at 20 second intervals.  Once the slides start, there's no going back.

I thought I would share my presentation with you and if you are interested in seeing it live, I'll be presenting again on November 15th at the Rockland Rec Center at 7pm.

My presentation was about a group of personal work I've been doing called Beyond Divine.

I have put the text that goes with each slide above the image.

So there is this thing that happens when you put on a mask.  I’m pretty sure it’s called “liberation”.  You put on a physical mask and take off your internal mask.  You are dressed up like someone else and your inhibitions are suddenly “undressed”.  It’s like you are giving your alter ego permission to be naked.  

That person you thought you’d like to try out, but were too embarrassed to reveal while you still looked like yourself, that’s the person that comes out when the mask goes on; the person you are not sure will be accepted, the person that challenges others, the person that excites you and puts a little fire in your engine again. 

 Children don’t need masks.  There is very little about which a young child feels embarrassed.  They can poop and fart and belch and it’s all funny.  They can wear the clothes they like, even if they don’t match, they can tell you look ridiculous, because sometimes you do, and they won’t flinch. 

They are honest.  It’s that incredible, unfiltered honesty that draws me most to children.  If they feel like shit and you ask them how they feel, they tell you.  They don’t say, “fine, how are you” and walk away before you even formulate your formulated answer.  

What if we could learn to be as honest as children?  I’m not suggesting we go around telling everyone with a bad haircut how bad they look.  I’m suggesting that we allow ourselves an honest look in the mirror without caring what anyone else will think.  What if we said, “This is me and I am perfect.”

It’s much easier to say that when you are 10, than when you are 17 or even 40.  What if we could allow our children to remain honest as they grow through adolescence into adulthood?  Is it possible?  Is it a good idea?  Is there a way to keep that internal honesty and still function in the real world?

Or maybe we should protect them, teach them to hide how they really feel so they don’t get hurt.  Keep that veil up, it’s safer.  Keep those feelings to yourself, they are irrational, illogical, unpredictable, unstable.  Not for public record.  My word for that line of thought, “stunted”.  

 What if it’s too late?  What if our children are already grown and we have taught them to be like us, to hide our true, inner selves?  What if we have taught them to keep that mask on…. tight.  Is it too late?  Is there anything we can do? 

 I’d say, look at yourself.  Hard.  Allow yourself to be honest, and when you don’t think anyone is looking, your kids will see you.  They’ve always seen the real you anyway, buy now they will see you being honest with yourself.  And they will trust you, and maybe allow themselves to be honest too.

 How do we start the process?  Do you know a child?  I say, start paying attention to them.  They all love to draw and to run and to play and yes, to dress up.  Don’t you remember when you loved to do those things?  What if we find a child and ask them to help us take our masks off?  And remind us how to fly.

Flying is scary.  I once had a dream that I was flying and had a joystick in my hand.  I held on so tight because I was trying to control where I was going.  The more I moved it around, the more I lost control.  The next night I had the same dream, but I let go of the joystick and I was in complete control.

I also had a dream once that I could walk on water.  Cool, huh?  It reminded me that I really can do anything I want to.  So I became a photographer.  Because in my heart, I always knew I was one.  Can you imagine yourself doing the thing that you want to do most?

Maybe to start that process, we need to put the masks on for a while, until we feel comfortable with our soul’s nakedness, comfortable with our own greatness, comfortable with our own success.  We all get a little shy sometimes; a mask gives us permission to be bold.

And then try taking the mask off again, and allow that trueness, the honesty, that real you to shine through without giving a damn about what anyone else thinks.  That reminds me a little of a story about a light and a bushel…  That’s why were here after all, to be perfect.  And we are.

This is my daughter Emma, her roots are deep; she is her own person.  One day she showed up like this and said, “Take my picture.”  I call this image Joan.  Joan didn’t give a damn what anyone thought.  That’s what I wish I could give to every woman.

So I say, be sassy.  Be bold.  Be honest.  Be true to yourself and your desires and your commitment to being the best, most honest and happiest self you can possibly be.  And if the people around you don’t like that?  Fuck ‘em.  Move.  Separate yourself from them.  Or introduce them to your new old self and say, “Take it or leave it”. 

There is nothing easy about introducing your new self to the world.  Nothing easy about revealing the secret person you’ve been hiding behind the mask for so long.  It’s like walking around naked in a room full of strangers. 

Put those sunglasses on and hide, quick, someone will recognize you.  They might judge you.  They might say, “That’s not who you are!  You are the other person, the meek, the mild, the joy stick holder, the one who does what everyone else expects.”  Dare I say, possibly, the Mother?

 And you say.  “I’m so sorry you didn’t realize that there are two of me.  The one you expect.  The one who follows the rules.  The one who puts others before myself, always.  The one who cooks and cleans and drives the minivan.  The one who always has control of the joystick.

And then there is the other me; the soulful, joyful, deep and passionate person, who let’s go of the joystick and is in complete control”.  That’s the person I try to bring to light with my photography.  I am photographing the light within.