Maybe there’s something in the denial that makes it easier to ignore, but at some point, the realisation hits you and it’s all you can think about.
I’m not sure when I became fully aware of the masks I cover myself with.
Maybe there is something about the idea that if you keep switching, you don’t realise you’re wearing any. Different meetings require different masks, which aren’t the same as the ones you wear with your friends, which you have to change when your family is around, and then the ones you don as your loved ones show up…there is always a mask to be had.
And in this city of masked citizens, I hold onto the hope there must be a space where the maskless are. A space where I can try and remember who I am.
If I sit quietly for too long, the noise and voices just can’t be silenced. Ideas, stories, regrets, fantasies, projects, anger, sadness… a symphony of my voice berating and questioning, laughing, mocking, hardly, if ever, congratulatory or helpful. And so I try to find ways of muting it.
It’s a hard ask of yourself to drop all facades and not pretend to be someone for someone else…or be yourself for yourself. I don’t feel comfortable most of the time, even when I’m alone..maybe especially when I’m alone, except when I’m out alone walking with my camera.
Earbuds in, music going, no conversation, just letting my eye wander to something and let my brain tell a story. It’s the only time I can think of where I’m not trying to be anyone for someone.
One of my basic rules when I’m out wandering and trying seriously to quiet the voices is ‘no stopping.’ Reach a red light, turn a different direction. Traffic gets bad, go down this alley and avoid it. Just keep moving until your eye finds something. Even then, don’t linger too long.
It was in that flow when I heard someone talking on his phone in an alley. He looked business and the call seemed to be along the lines of trying to impress while keeping up appearances. The juxtaposition of him in a nice jacket and pants standing in an alley caught my attention and I got my camera ready as I passed by.
But there was another part to all this that I didn’t see until I followed the light. Just some guy, smoking a cigarette, checking his phone, taking a break. And it felt more honest than myself or the suit were. There was an exhaustion in his stance but also a relief in just finding a moment of quiet.
I broke my rule at this point and lingered just a little. Both my lens and the suit looking on someone who, at that very moment, felt like we were seeing as maskless person.
My day job doesn’t afford me the ability to be completely honest. I have people that report to me, and no boss is ever completely honest with their employees. If they were, you can bet the lawsuit rate would skyrocket. And even in friendships we hide, lie, omit, because that’s what friends do, we don’t share everything we think because that’s not what we’re supposed to do. And, if we’re being honest here, none of us want to be on the receiving end of all that honesty either. Omission and deceit is what makes the world go round.
But you occasionally find those moments when people don’t care who sees it because they aren’t around anyone that matters or who would call them on it, and you can let everything drop. No more pretence. You can be tired, frustrated, annoyed, upset. You can be happy, and dance, and joyful at whatever you want that would hurt someone else. But only for a moment. For a click of a shutter. For a brief breath before returning to the masks and hiding back under them.
I keep wondering if there is a difference between the mask and me. Have we all been wearing them so long that the truth is we don’t have a real self?
Not all days are spent in these thoughts. Often, the voices are loud and distracting enough I can focus on something else and ignore the question. But it is something I talk with my therapist about, and it’s at the route of a bigger question. Am I worthy to be loved? And if so, which version is it?
There’s an honesty that I feel walking alone on the street with my camera. An honesty that I don’t have to be anyone but the quiet observer of the world. Not taking part, just catching moments.
