By: Jean Estene

I am an artist. I am a woman. I wear a mask. I wear many different masks. “I think. Therefore, I am.” But, am I really? Ok. Let’s talk about perception. It’s soft on the retina, but a very lethal weapon. How do we un-label ourselves? How do we unmask ourselves? Where do we begin? When will it end? It probably never will. I’ve lost my ability to feel. How the fuck have I lost my ability to feel? Isn’t the art about the feeling? The creation for the healing? It’s tangible. We can feel it. We can feel it. The face behind the mask! Don’t reveal it. Don’t reveal it. Keep it bottled up inside. Keep that foolish artists’ pride. Don’t lose it. Don’t misuse it. It’s all you’ve got. It’s all I’ve got. I wear a mask. I am a woman. I am an artist. I am a target. Am I target? Of my own perception. My most deadly weapon. I am a canvas. I am an ocean. I give my art my love, devotion. My aura is abundant, it is lethal, it is potent. It has been shaped and molded. Not only by my perception, but also by my lack thereof. I am less observant than I give myself credit for. Being. Peel. Peel it away. Peel it off. Beg it to stay. The skin that I am in. The skin that I have used. My skin has shaped my point of view. But, has it shaped my point of view? Am I not just a varied version of you? And him and her, and her, and him too?