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(Apologies for the length. Found myself rambling on a bit.)
Just making my first tentative steps into mask work.
I've been trying to "fine tune" my interactions with Loki a bit--create a more stable communication during my regular altar services. Brainstorming ideas, I thought about the film The Mask and decided that making a ritual mask might be a good idea. I asked for Loki's blessing on the project and he seemed to find it acceptable.
I started with a plain silver-coloured full face mask, bought for a few cents from a party supply shop. I planned to use this either as a base or as a mold. I prepared for the next blot by assembling as many arts and crafts supplies as I could and having them to hand around the altar.
The first attempt at adapting the mask was interesting. I was advised to include a mirror on the altar and then encouraged to put the mask on and glue strips of red tissue-paper over it in layers, as for papier-mache. Since I am very short-sighted (I had to take my glasses off in order to put the mask on) and the room was dark except for the votive candles, I couldn't properly see the mirror. I got a powerful impression that instead of adding paper to the mask I was removing a layer of skin.
After letting the mask dry for a couple of days, I went back to it. I felt strongly that the red paper layer was a temporary feature; I removed it but saved it in case it might be needed later.
Instead of covering the mask, I thought it would be a good idea in future to exploit the reflective surface by adding extra candles to my temporary altar next time, creating a new surface by illusion. Loki may not have been associated with fire historically, but it's certainly a part of his nature now and one which I make a point of celebrating. Again I sought his blessing and guidance for the next stage.
In the end I used two of the cheap plastic masks I'd bought previously, one translucent silver and one opaque white mask as a liner. The white mask I painted red; the colour is just visible through the surface of the silver mask. I glued red feather "hair" onto the brow, and added a black cloth hood to cover the back of my head. I also added eye-pieces made from child-sized mirrored sunglasses, painted inside with transparent red nail varnish to further obscure my vision, creating disorientation. The finishing touch was to bore holes in the lips of the mask and "stitch" them closed with a thick length of plastic thong. The whole thing is very affecting to wear, emotionally speaking. You can't see properly, breathing is more difficult, and no part of your face or head is visible when looking into the mirror.
I put it through its paces for the first time around six this morning. My plan was to wear the mask and ritually unstitch the lips when the time seemed right. This action would symbolise the opening of a channel of communication, allowing me to recieve any message more clearly.
What actually transpired was considerably more chaotic. I'd prepared for the ritual by forgoing sleep and eating only a very light meal that evening; the blot also included moderate libations of beer and brandy. After I put the mask in place, I took a couple of photographs for my records and then looked into the mirror. I muttered something along the lines of "fucking hell" and thought I saw the mask's lips move.
There followed several long seconds of scrabbling with the thong. I had to get it unstitched then and there. It was too tough and the reinforced mask too thick to allow me simply to tear it out, so I had to unpick the stitching. Only when this was done did I think of just taking the mask off.
The rest of the service wasn't much more together. I leave a minidisc recorder running during all my deity work in case I need to make notes and don't have a free hand. This morning's disc consists largely of silence, punctuated by bouts of hyperventilation and swearing. |
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