MASK MASK

I’ve always thought that I have two faces—maybe everyone else does too. One is a facade, a “phony face” as Holden from the Catcher in the Rye would say, a mask that we put up to hide our flaws, maybe flaws that might simply be our insecurities gone out of hand, but nevertheless something that seems necessary to survive in a world of judgment. The second face is the true self, the inner part of our minds that only comes out to say hello once in a while, once we meet someone we feel comfortable around But this face is fragile, one little thing that goes wrong can scare it and make it go back into its shell, pushing forward the fake face once again. We might say that the fake face is the stronger one, it’s the one protecting us against the world’s judgment. Or we could also say that it’s the weaker one, the one that’s built upon false truths. However, one thing is that both the outer and inner face are necessary, essential to our identities

The outer shell is like a protective case, the pen case and guitar case protect what lays inside. It might be filled with an actual pen or an actual guitar, or it could be filled with other things, the list is simply endless. No matter what lies inside, the viewer is shielded because of the cases. Just as one can open up and give a shimmer of true personality and self, both cases can be opened to yield the treasure that lies inside It might be a disappointment, or it might be a sense of wonder, but regardless there is a sense of vulnerability. Whatever lies inside needs the protective shell in order to survive in the world, just as we cannot live without our masks. The wonder of such objects, our masks, our pen cases and guitar cases, lies in the fact that we all produce art. We ourselves, when looking deep within ourselves can create beautiful forms of literature, music, and physical manifestations of art. The pen case holds a pen that allows the writer to translate their emotions onto pieces of paper. The guitar case holds my beloved guitar, which I can create songs and play music. While these protections might seem like inhabitants from our true selves, it is clear that they are essential in order to even have the ability to develop our sense of self. If my guitar were homeless, I would not be able to carry it around because I would be fearful of breaking it.

As time passes, rust corrodes and leaves fall, the gradual decay inevitable. Like the horse, frozen in a single moment, yet constantly from one display to another, the camel, perpetually degraded, is flung from state to state. Neither has the will to decide for themselves, privy to the negligence and movement of their owners.

The camel acts as an observable representation of the turmoil in my childhood travels - but in the face of carelessness, it retained beauty in patches of silver that remain, shining through the darkened entirety. It has endured in its value and brilliance, despite that which threatens its luster, much like the horse.

To me, these items are not only animals of clay and metal, but are symbols of perseverance undeterred by time and fragmentation, and a reminder for me to do the same.