Festives

Recently it was the day of the dead, three days ago to be exact. The holiday is set on November 2nd and it is meant o celebrate dead ancestors and relatives, November 2nd being a day where they visit us and what not. This year I was set out to find jewelry theme'd for this holiday, not exactly celebrating the holiday myself but because the certain style doesn't TRULY come out until this certain time of year. Though what makes us feel the need to celebrate with one another these things we call holidays? Would we set out to get together with family members or friends like we do for holidays? I presume so but our environment in the United States makes become so introverted, to become individuals.

I became an individual last night, I went to first Friday which is a assumed to be where all these artists and those interested in art, come together on the same night (every first friday of the month) and come talk, share, enjoy one another. I came by myself and went through the rounds of galleries just to see if anything new was around, and said hi to artists that I somewhat kind of know. But other then that I was by myself, and couldn't help but feel lost in this celebratory environment. I then proceeded to wander over to a big studio called Stoneworks, where the owners of the place, Michelle and Guy, have new entertainment every first Friday. They serve the best food and have the best energy. Though me being by myself and only socializing with Guy, I was struck by how shy and unconfident I am being around people that I don't know, but have the same interests as me. It's as though I just felt like a lie, being this "artist" and that I don't REALLY know what I am talking about. That I, Sara, have nothing to say and I will just make awkward conversation.

I was then set out to talk to some people and stay around long enough to watch the belly dancing. The belly dancer's costumes were a day of the dead theme, with their faces painted in palette of white and these obscure colors decorating their faces, their eyes surrounded by black paint. I began to talk to this man who was eager to show his art work on his iPhone, and told me about his life. We laughed and enjoyed the show, and then I bolted out the door at 9:13 to meet my friend for a 9:40 movie. I then ran into the face painter, having never had a day of the dead face painted on me before. I gave her a donation of 10 dollars and she proceeded to decorate my face in reds, oranges, white and black. I felt calm and excited just to find out what would become of my face, as well as everyone surrounded around me, seeing what the artist would create. I was done, and bolted out the door at 9:30. Vaguely knowing how my face actually looked.

I was met by a transformation when I looked into the mirror, Sara was no longer Sara, but instead she was this masked being. It's simply amazing what paint can do, even face painting, I did not look like myself. This is not because it literally physically transformed my face but instead made and illusion to somehow give no definition to my face. It made me different. I became an even more obscure individual. I was unrecognizable, and looked at with eyes that judged and did not know what in the world happened to this "girl's" face. Walking into a movie theater like that, I was ostracized without even realizing it. This was most likely because I wasn't in the art world but now in "normal" world where you blend in with everyone else.

Sometimes I'm tired of blending in, then other times I will dress as plain and unnoticeable as possibly, so nobody realizes I am there.

My own psychology? It fails to be reasonable