These are the two first masks I did for the new body of work. Sculpture is a fairly new element to my practice, which allows me to create my own figures of 'otherness.' This came as a natural progression to the extensive use of animal symbolism in Down a Rabbit Hole. Instead of seeking out already made objects and shaping my work around it, I took matter into my own hands.
What I enjoy most about making things, whatever it may be, is the challenge of working out how to transform something that exists in fantasy into something that exists in reality. The transformation of materials, usually various types of card board and paper, folded, layered and transformed. A process that in itself carries some significant elements of unknown.
Not all the masks will make it into images for this work. I feel that they play perhaps an even bigger part as ways to continue the narrative and conversation outside the images. As three dimensional objects they occupy our space in a different way to the photograph. They have location and presence. They're the invisible made visible. They reunite the world of imagination with the physical world. ( I should add that they do so in a similar manner to the photograph, but my point here is how they occupy our space differently than the two dimensional object.)
Some masks are born from specific research, influences and/or plans. The birds came from a continued fascination with Hitchcock's The Birds and for what happens when natural things become unnatural. Birds occur frequently in films as bad omens, usually inserted into a shot before something bad happens, like in Mad Max where a bird appears just before a couple is attacked by barbaric outlaws, and again as Max’s wife runs for her life (through the symbolic woods). But in Hitchcock’s film they are the evil force that has come to prey upon us. The scary thing about these birds is that their actions remain unexplained throughout the film and leaves questions of why unanswered. The film leaves its narrative unresolved with an open ending.The resulting feeling of unease and fear is heightened because these animals share our everyday environment and have become natural monsters. They aren’t fantasy birdlike hybrids; they are seagulls, sparrows, crows and other familiar species.
The animals in my own imagery are often ambiguous, hybrid creatures. They fall in to mainly two categories: characters that are largely human, but are given various animal characteristics though props, and creature sculptures. They represent my personal reflections on a fear of the unknown in figures of the Other. I explore the contrast between the natural and the fabricated on several levels; one is by constructing my own birds and animal masks based largely on fantasy, or through the occasional use of taxidermy.
The clown was born out somewhat similar reasons, but is made with a specific yet-to-be-shot image in mind. Which hopefully will (must) happen in a week or two.
Clowns fit the distinction of a type of human/monster hybrid. They are monstrous in their bizarre appearance through a combination of stylised make-up, costume and props, and can evoke all sorts of frightening implications. Though they are characters usually associated with humour, they are also grotesque beings. Disproportionate with exaggerated features and abnormal abilities to withstand dangerous physical challenges often associated with slapstick violence, makes us wary of the clown’s duality and otherness because of the unknown it represents.
“[...] the recognition that horror is intimately and essentially bound up with the violation, problematization, and transgression of our categories, norms, and concepts puts us in a particularly strategic position from which explore the relation of horror to humour, because humour- is also necessarily linked to the problematization, violation, and transgression of standing categories, norms and concepts.”*
The clown is a good example of this duality. By changing certain features or behaviour it can be both a thing of comedy and of horror, like the clowns in Killer Klowns... are a perfect example of.
This is the first hand cast I made. I broke three of its fingers. Mostly because I was so damn eager to try them out. (Note to self: waiting for plaster to dry completely is a good idea.) I broke the thumb trying to get a latex mould off. Little did I know that, 1: the latex was not dry after 10 hours. 2: the plaster was not dry, which didn't help the latex. 3- my excitement got the better of me. Again. Fair enough.
Not the pose or height I'm after, but for a first try, I was pretty amazed by the details. Fingerprints, pores, everything. Alginate rules. I've got a shipment in the mail and am currently looking for a suitable container to start (again). I've put my hand in pretty much everything around the house today still with no luck. Tomorrow is another day.
*Carroll, N. (1999) ‘Horror and Humor’, The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, Vol. 57, No.2
