Daniel Coleman

The current situation that we all find ourselves in has me thinking and also rethinking. Certainly in the case of the Artist the latter two (solitude and talking to oneself) could be considered the norm still, however even now they seem exaggerated in our lockdown spaces. Or perhaps this not the case for all Artists, and I have just exposed traits on my own studio habits. Oh well…

Aiming to draw connections to the three I have been thinking about ‘the mask’ more so and how it too has been present for the Artist and indeed myself in the past. Although tempted to make some sort of reference it would be too obvious (even for me) to talk entirely about Jim Carey’s 1994 film (The Mask), so I will refrain from doing so. But I had to at least mention it, to get it out of my system. “Somebody stop me!” …seriously please stop me.

The symbol of the mask has become a somewhat regular symbol to our daily lives now. I recall a recent trip to the shop and the image of a queue of people wearing face masks and rubber gloves wheeling their trollies, slowly, two meters a part, was like something from a dystopian horror film. This however is our reality this is not a film. It’s hard for this situation to not leave a lasting impression and I am wondering how the situation will influence other Artists like it has myself. Then again the Armagh Rhymers have been setting trends for local mask wearing for sometime now.

When lockdown was enforced, I thought about masks in painting, in particular James Ensor’s ‘Masks Confronting Death’, obvious I know but a somewhat poignant painting for today where masks are seen to challenge death (MoMA) and a moment when Art seemingly predicts future.

The opportunity of extended time that we have been given has meant that I like many have found myself adapting to the current situation to continue my efforts to ‘make’. It would be naïve to think however that for us all this is without challenge. The process of making is very ritualistic so for some it can take extended time to adapt to makeshift spaces. For me I have allowed myself to give in to the situation entirely and begin a process of experimentation, without expectation for anything to materialise.

The image of the figure has been progressively finding itself into my drawings and work of late, since a response to Artist Shauna McDonald’s piece entitled, ‘You Are Here (see earlier blog post). Using my words and drawings as source I decided to use the pandemic as an opportunity to bring the ‘lost painter’ to life, which had come to exist only in my drawings. Something I would not have fathomed under normal circumstances but I figured – what have I got to lose, I live in the middle of nowhere; no one will see this madness (but they’ll read about it).

Combining the drawing, the text and considering the symbol of the mask I sought focus on bringing this figure to existence in hope that it will support my efforts in drawing it.

As stated previous I tend to talk to myself, and in a previous conversation (had with myself) I became concerned over the figures that were emerging in my notes. I didn’t want these to be self-portraits, as the words talked about another time, another person. The drawings now weren’t speaking of the same person. It is like I had forgotten who that person was. This figure was tired, broken and lost and I needed to remind myself of the person I was trying to empathise with.

Repeating the figure in my drawing and reflecting on masks in both art and film, I eventually looked to the masks of 1970s American slasher films (yep I was that kid, and I am unapologetic about it) to aid with bringing these drawings to life. Now, I know what you’re thinking, “he’s lost it entirely if that’s where his mind entered.” To be fair this was week 7 of lockdown so it is possible that I did momentarily, but sure haven’t we all – lost it?

Contrast to the exuberance of the mask depicted in the likes of Ensor’s paintings (or indeed Goya’s, The Burial of the Sardine, 1812-1819 – another Artist who came to mind) the quality of the masks from these low budget Hollywood movies was comical to me – fecking terrifying, but comical all the same. Somehow these masks felt more fitting. I didn’t want to create something that was terrifying however; I was just drawn to the poor quality. The crush of the paper, the idea of the masking tape holding it together, finished off with a painted ‘Joker’ smile made sense to me for this person. I believed my mask would appear pitiful, like a lost soul wandering the darkness that I once wrote about (September 2018). It was the ‘lost painter’.

We have put great focus in recognising the mask as this symbol of protection, but stripped of that it is merely a piece of cloth/ plastic. Yet we believe it can. Just like how Ensor believed his masks could challenge death or how for that split second you believed Michael Myers was in your living room, that time thanks to your mate (nope that one just happen me? Cool.)

For me, I believed this mask would support my efforts in reconnecting with that person once more. The performance element was again result of my lockdown experiments. Wearing a mask (with only one eye hole) and re-enacting the words/ drawings, at midnight, in the middle of a field, in North Armagh, made me realise – how fecking hard it is to walk in darkness alone.

Now the mask sits in my makeshift space, today on the floor beneath a canvas. Just sitting, staring. I am hopeful my efforts will support me in my future drawings surrounding this figure. As I said earlier however – the focus is on the experiment not the outcome but what if the mask itself is the realised drawing? At least now though my habit of talking to myself can be directed toward something. I just hope that when this is over and we find ourselves able to leave our deserted islands (and relocate our solitude), this Wilson does not get swept away… I don’t really think crying out, “I’m Sorry, Wilson!” (Cast Away, 2000) will allay any concerns for my sanity from this article.

Right now we are all the symbol of the lost painter wandering in the darkness, wearing our masks with drawn on smiles (both literally and metaphorically speak), to aid with our way out of this. On this occasion however, the wandering this time round doesn’t feel as lonely.

Until tomorrow,

Daniel (oh and his mask)