Tameca L Coleman
The first time I went outside in a mask, it was early on in quarantine, and I was wearing all black which is kind of my M.O., but barely anyone else was wearing a mask. Articles had just circulated about how wearing a mask as POC might not bode well for many of us.
It was difficult to tell if what I was feeling was an embarrassment for being different and/or a judgement from others that I was maybe overreacting. Maybe, I was imagining things. I only know that I've been kind of unconsciously adding more color to my walks when I do venture out, and I've been wearing more headwraps because the pressure feels like a comfort.
Colorado Springs, Colorado
In early March, I took a picture of myself wearing this WWII mask that we had from a relative. At the time, it was almost a joke. The sky was bright blue with puffy clouds behind me, and the contrast was striking. It sat around on my worktable and as the pandemic evolved, so did this piece. I added some black pigment when the news became more dire, more reds as I became angry, yellow when I was fearful. I threw encaustic on it to dull it, dull myself, my senses. I'm not sure this is even done. I may continue adding layers to it for some time to come. Because this isn’t over.
We can’t breathe and fear is suffocating us.
Yann Le Crouhennec
French Alps, France
This piece is inspired by the loss of identity that we experience due to the masks that we all must wear. They turn us into a kind of ghost.
The pandemic made me think that we were experiencing an Armageddon from the first moment it started. It was a claustrophobic time of confrontation with myself, which made me feel like an apocalypse was happening. In these times when I am out of breath, which makes me feel unhappy.