Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.
–-Oscar Wilde, The Happy Prince & Other Tales
I basically believe these words from Wilde. To a point. There is a certain class of folks however who wear a mask to hide behind, to prevent them from telling truth. Usually for duplicitous reasons, to benefit themselves or to avoid responsibility. Certainly not to spare the feelings of others.
But then again, maybe wearing that mask reveals their truth, after all. It exposes their weakness and greed, their contempt for the truth as well as their lack of compassion and unwillingness to even attempt to feel empathy.
You can probably think of somebody like that. Or a whole bunch of them.
Don’t make me put a label on this group this morning. I am still reeling a bit from whatever has ailed me for the past several days and don’t want to get any more aggravated than I am feeling at the moment.
On the broader subject of Wilde’s quote, I have often wondered which is the mask I wear — my actual self or my painting? Which is more likely to tell the truth? Which is real? Or are they now one and the same? I say now because they were once two distinctly different entities, one being decidedly more truthful than the other.
I won’t say which was the more honest being.
If I did, it might well be a lie.
I do hope they’re one and the same.
And I am not just saying that. Cross my heart and hope to die.
Let me finish with song and a reminder that this is the final week to see my Entanglement exhibit at the Principle Gallery in Alexandria, as it comes down July 7. If this work is my mask, I am proud to wear it.
I think it tells truth, for both me and the work.
Here’s John Lennon and Gimme Some Truth.

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