Masks.

The season of mellow fruitfulness is upon us with some serious rain and cold, clouds so grey you could be stuck in a piece of Tuppaware.

Shopping for masks for the Halloween period. I like the tawdry aspect of it all. Off to get more junk today, the cheaper the mask the better.

Recently I was reminded about Eugene Meatyard. His real name was not Meatyard. It was probably Richards. One day I may even check. He worked as an optometrist. Any way it is all tied up with the Meatyard thing. I do not know his work intimately.

But when I was at art school I came across him somewhere, so I have been back for a better look.
Ralph Eugene Meatyard is the name to check out. Possibly not Richards.

What is interesting about him is the fact that he had a real day job. He also lived at one time in a town called Normal. His pictures largely consist of conventional looking adults and kids, often members of his family. They stand in streets and in old broken down houses. They wear cheap theatrical masks.

Quite by chance I have also been stumbling through a similar theme in my usual inept manner.

What is interesting about one's own kids is how patient they are. They actually pose and stay still and then carry on as if nothing has happened.

Years ago in Braga, at a photo festival, my friend and guide in matters photographic,and myself came across a whole bunch  of Joel Witkin images. They were not big but they were strong. Really different from the recent trend , at least since the early 90s, of enormous colour photographs that function essentially as some kind of history painting. The visual coding and semiotics of the whole thing jump out and hit you on the head. Like a representative of the state and his truncheon. I think I prefer Southern Gothic to German Machines, machines being a word used to describe huge Academic paintings, possibly French and no doubt originating in the 18th Century.

And of course Meatyard. What a name. Who wouldn't choose to be called Meatyard?