Compartmentalising. Putting on a face for different audiences in the attempt to be perceived as socially acceptable. Trying to fit in by reducing the authentic aspects of your life so its easily consumable. Queer people develop this, we’ll say ‘skill’ from an early age. Upon meeting someone we know what to say and what not say with an isp to trigger an unwarranted response. We know by reading body language if we are speaking to one of the gurls. We know the second we lower our defences if we’ve walked into quicksand or found respite.

We are actors. No wonder we love theatre. We perform regularly, we’ve been training all our lives for the role of ‘straight cis person’. However after the curtain falls, the audience follows us to the dressing room, to the car park and too our homes. We tell them the performance is over but they get upset. They jeer and threaten their one star review. Making breakfast the next morning gets crowded in the kitchen. “Ok that’s enough you’re going to have to leave”. They throw your toast on the floor and pout like a child. We learn to live with them, but we are now so terrified of forgetting a line or misstepping. We become great, Oscar worthy great but mid monologue, the abrupt force of a fist collides with our cheek. We didn’t do anything wrong that time, we’re certain. We retrace every word spoken, maybe the tone? Didn’t we fix that body language problem ages ago? We refind our mark, spotlight comes back on and the audience remains vigilant.

The actor is posed in an environment that could read as a stage mid production. The box covering the actors face frames the audiences focus away from the traits that may read as “unfirmiliar’. The recurring pattern is screen printed to imply a consistent state of anxiety while this performance is occurring. Sometimes its subtle and blends in but mostly its visible and prominent, obscuring the actors identity.