When my prof asked me to describe a part of myself that no one really knows about me I had the greatest struggle as a conceptual photographer. I thought of a series of concepts that described a part of me but never felt rightful in describing who I truly am. I felt the challenge behind this assignment, atleast, to me, was that I had been given the opportunity to express a shade of myself to people that was never seen. In the end after my fifth concept and on my third shoot for the assignment I did a reset. Whenever I go through a hard process in photography I completely change my attitude, I drop what I thought I knew and accept the change that is necessary to accomplish an obstacle. This in turn forms an adaptation, which led me to my final image. One's self to the rest, a voice without voice, and a mask without mask.
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And the words that go along with the image.
Mask Without Mask
In the morning I awake, a different person sits there at the edge of the bed. The person who was asleep is gone.
All day and everyday I paint the picture that meets the eye. The hi's and bye's, the smiles and lies.
Inside the story of George continues.
In far off planes, in a desert of though another narrative continues, away from eyes, away from words.
There in the night I retire my mask, alone and empty of the day I write these very words.
All the structures and forms fade before the sun,
going. going. going. gone.
Until I am no longer the mask.
A secret even after told is another life,
A life of imagination, of theory, of perception.
It is something I can't quite say,
Something not ready yet.
The illusion is not how to disappear but it is the magic of reappearing,
Everyday and every night,
Mask without Mask.
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The after image that is only seen by the eyes but the original image left for the mind to imagine.
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And the words that go along with the image.
Mask Without Mask
In the morning I awake, a different person sits there at the edge of the bed. The person who was asleep is gone.
All day and everyday I paint the picture that meets the eye. The hi's and bye's, the smiles and lies.
Inside the story of George continues.
In far off planes, in a desert of though another narrative continues, away from eyes, away from words.
There in the night I retire my mask, alone and empty of the day I write these very words.
All the structures and forms fade before the sun,
going. going. going. gone.
Until I am no longer the mask.
A secret even after told is another life,
A life of imagination, of theory, of perception.
It is something I can't quite say,
Something not ready yet.
The illusion is not how to disappear but it is the magic of reappearing,
Everyday and every night,
Mask without Mask.
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