"I Hate Your Masks"

I have been collecting tribal masks, mostly from Africa, for the better part of my adult life. I have always found them to be deliciously wicked — the more gruesome and macabre, the better!

I am, however, also very accustomed to seeing people have very strong (negative) reactions to my collection. I’ve watched some of the quietest of folks become suddenly outspoken about how much they hate my masks! “Unpleasant,” “grotesque,” and “creepy” are just a few of the most common complaints, with several people going all the way and proclaiming my masks to be “downright evil.”

Even my own mother is convinced certain ones are cursed, and my loving partner recently told me that when we were first dating, he seriously considered ending our relationship after he came to my old house and saw my “disturbing” mask collection and “sinister” taste in art!

Fast forward many years, and by now everyone knows that from the Himalayas to the Sahara, wherever I travel, I’m going to inevitably bring back creepy masks. Much like a cat barfing up a bunch of unwanted gifts on the doormat, I can’t say my friends and family have gotten used to it exactly, but I do they think they realize I simply can’t help it!

Monsters Under Above the Bed

“Can you really not see how ENCHANTINGLY BEAUTIFUL they are?” I asked my partner. “You realize the only reason I’m building this huge stone fireplace — in Texas, no less — is so I’ll have a dramatic place to hang all these masks, right?”

He told me, “No. I mostly find your masks upsetting and creepy, but maybe they will grow on me? I’m just glad that you are at least planning to hang them above the fireplace and not somewhere HORRIFYING, like above the bed where we sleep.”

And that’s when I realized that Seth clearly hadn’t ever taken the time to look very closely at my sketches or construction drawings. I started wondering at what point he would inevitably piece together that the huge stone fireplace is IN OUR BEDROOM, with a big, lovely overmantel that looms above where we sleep.

No Dead Heads

Texas is an interesting place. I can be walking out of a camera store with a camera around my neck, but if someone ever hears me utter anything about SHOOTING WILD ANIMALS in Africa, they invariably assume I mean with a gun.

This leads to awkward interactions with strangers where — often to their glaring disappointment — I have to pause and state seemingly obvious things like, “No, I wasn’t shooting the BABY ELEPHANTS from my helicopter with a machine gun from above, it’s disturbing you got so excited when you thought that was the case."

“Man, can you imagine?! That would be such an awesome bloodbath!”

No. No it wouldn’t, and I don’t have to imagine it, because I have seen firsthand the devastation that poaching and illegal wild game hunting can reek on African communities.

I therefore made the decision long ago to use only artificial wild animals on the walls of my home and NO TAXIDERMY whatsoever, no matter how legally or honorably they were purportedly obtained.

Kudus to Me

Debating the righteousness of using taxidermy would be a non issue if it weren’t for the fact that, despite myself, from a design prerogative, I happen to really like the use of wild animal heads on walls. I can’t help it — they evoke HEMINGWAY AND AFRICAN HUNTING LODGES and can sometimes suggest a sense of historical context and tradition better than any mounted photograph.

Here in the guest bedroom, my twist on classic New Mexican design somewhat hinged on replacing the quintessential COW SKULLS of the American Southwest with the distinctively twisted horns of the African kudu skull and dramatic GEMSBOK.

Therefore, my hunt yet again happened without any weapons or killing, and instead became a hunt focused on locating artificial gemsbok and KUDU SKULLS with the utmost degree of realism.

Without taking them down, I dare anyone to spot the difference. Besides, if you’re taking things down off my walls, you probably need to leave anyways!

Every Mask a Memory

I want to capture the magic of the world and distill it into my home. I want to always remember the way it felt to photograph lions in the wild for the first time, or walk with elephants across the savanna, or ride a camel across the Sahara. I never want to forget the kindness of my Sherpas when I was so sick in the Himalayas, or the way it felt to step out onto the icy shores of Antarctica in utter bewilderment.

Even though I feel my best work is hands down my CANDID HUMAN PORTRAITURE, I mostly choose to hang my landscapes and wild animals. No matter how well photographed, filling your house with portraits of people you barely know seems a bit too odd, even for me!

So these masks are a way to remember the CULTURES AND PEOPLE I’ve encountered along the way —in the far corners of the world — and the time I spent getting to know beautiful customs and traditions so unlike my own.

These masks are memories… and I’d like to fill my home with as many as it can possibly hold.