The Shapeshifter Armand…
“I think I might be a room without walls, a floor, a ceiling… An infinite nothing.” There’s a lot of symbolism in this one, I’ll probably do a full breakdown later :D
Ok I typed up my breakdown of this piece and got a bit carried away. Part artistic analysis, part character study, sometimes prosaic, sometimes poetic. A mix of how Armand sees himself, how others see him, how viewers see him and my own perspective on it all (this is a disclaimer).
It’s a bit stream of consciousness at times, and longer than I expected, but I tried to structure it best I could. If anything’s not clear I’ll try my best to clarify :’)
Full post under the cut:
The Gremlin. The Coven Master. The Soldier. The Monster.
Based on gargoyle and grotesque faces. A creature adorning a religious structure. They are said to be visual warnings of sinful behaviour, sometimes representing souls condemned for their sins, eternally punished in hell.
Others suggest they are agents of the devil acting on behalf of God. A soldier for Satan. The Children of Darkness. This is the form that will stand the test of time. This form is fortified. Armoured. Able to protect itself. Strong. Powerful.
And must be retrained. Hidden. It is shameful. An abomination in the eyes of God. Dangerous. Unlovable. But it is not restrained here. Its features are distorted, scrunched up, unhinged jaw, fangs drawn, horns sprouting from its skull.
There are no openings for eyes, no window to the soul.
It is frozen in stone, frozen in time, locked in intensity. I tried to keep the expression ambiguous. Is it an anguished scream? Manic laughter? A shouted command? A creature lunging to attack its prey? Lashing out? A snarl, a warning to stay back? To stay away before I hurt you?
This is the last thing Riccardo saw. The lost cause that made Marius give up on Amadeo. The creature that repels everyone, repulses everyone, most of all Armand. This is vampirism. This is the monstrous existence he wouldn’t wish on anyone.
Amadeo. The Muse. The Temptation. Beloved of God.
Based on Venetian Carnival masks, specifically the “gnaga” mask, worn by male sex workers to avoid being arrested for homosexual acts. According to Venetian law at the time, wearing a mask meant becoming the mask, playing a role, and the person under the mask couldn’t be held liable for anything they did.
Gnaga would make “meowing” sounds to entice passers by. Amadeo is often viewed as a tease, a devilish manipulator corrupting the otherwise good and righteous men around him. (Amadeo had a skill.)
I went back and forth on making it a human (whitewashed) mask like the reference on the right, but decided to go with this. There is a lot of symbolic meaning simply in it being a cat mask. Cats are domesticated animals. Kept as pets. Marius sees himself as having saved Amadeo from his savage nature. Groomed him to be the perfect companion.
Or maybe a stray creature to tame? A possession to be displayed, passed around? An extension of others, unable to be seem fully as a person. Beautiful. Delicate. Tempting. Requires discipline and teaching. Whitewashing and romanticising. Saving from himself.
The mask has no mouth to voice any objections. Ought to be seen but not heard. No discernible expression (all the easier to see whatever you want to see, to project whatever you want it to be, to paint however you want to remember it).
It is elevated in the line up. Pedestaled by Marius, but doomed to fall from grace. Pedestaled by Armand, as a good time in his life. This was when I was loved. This was safety. This was more than I deserved but I long for it anyway. This is what I will search for in everything.
Arun. The Boy. The Slave. The Wound. The Beginning.
Loosely based on Kushmandi Gomira masks, from West Bengal. They are worn during ritual dances to invoke benevolent forces and ward off negative energies.
This was the most difficult mask to decide where to draw inspiration from - I avoided basing any specific figures or deities, out of respect and feeling that that wasn’t appropriate for the intended meaning of the mask either.
The references I draw from are from an artist Parmesh Sarkar, who is inspired by the Gomira art form but combines it with outside influences. I felt this linked to the fractured memories of this time in Armand’s past, and the disconnect from his homeland and culture, from the time and place of his origins.
The masks are carved from lightweight wood then traditionally painted with bold colours and designs. This mask is not painted. Exposed. Incomplete. Interrupted. Stunted growth.
Misremembered and misshapen. Deformed; two mouths, two noses, too many eyes, seeing too much. Not quite a person (so do whatever you want with it). Twisted forms. Gaping holes; in the memories, in the identity, in the soul. Hollow. Hollowed out.
And yet, so full of pain, tears escape from what should be an inanimate object. So full of pain, the pain eclipses anything that came before it. Until the pain is all that is left. The wound that never heals. The thing that is impossible to look at, to remember, to acknowledge, to embrace… without feeling the crushing despair that comes with it.
Armand.
The only one with the capacity to change. The past is immutable, no matter how much we avoid it. We cannot control how others perceive us, no matter how meticulously we construct our image. The only one with a body attached, even if there is a void, a black hole beneath it.
The only one not looking at us, even though he faces us. Instead looking back on the other masks (because this form is also a mask, just as interchangeable and separate from himself, if there is a self underneath it all, as the rest of them). What is his expression, his feelings? Regret? Discomfort? Shame? Mourning? Disgust? Rejection? Acceptance?
There are several running themes and ideas across these masks. Dehumanisation. Identity (and lack thereof). The fractured self. Compartmentalising and repressing trauma. Self perception.
Becoming what others make you, what others see you as, what you must become to survive, what you could only ever be, what you were doomed to become, what you seem to doom yourself to become with every choice you make and every one that you don’t.
Who am I? Am I my history I have endured? The job I do not want? A room without walls, a floor, a ceiling? An infinite nothing? I do not know anymore. How do you begin to define yourself outside of all this? Is it possible to be more than what I was, what I have been made to be? I hope Armand can find out one day.
I beg you to keep reading the description of the artist so our jaws end meeting up on the floor because wow
