TD 1
HEMLINES THREADING A FINE LINE Meet the Banksy of
Masks words Amelia O’Mahony-Brady Within my earliest memories of masks swirls an unwavering sense of disquiet. By this time of year, most kids were queuing up for Scream masks or cloaking themselves in makeshift ghost costumes: conversely, I was far less comfortable with ghouls, zombies and other morbidlymasked figures wafting through my neighbourhood. While I can partially chalk this up to being prematurely – if accidentally – exposed to slasher films (never again did I sneak into my older cousins’ Halloween screenings), it was less their ghastly appearance that chilled me; more so the fact their identities were distorted, concealed. Even before I caught wind of Stephen King’s IT, clowns were personally outlawed – my 7-year-old self found their painted smiles and synthetic camouflage to be deeply unsettling. Over time, this maskaphobia (it’s a thing!) thankfully diminished, replaced by intrigue towards the artistry of contemporary mask-makers – admiring the ways in which pieces could transform and even empower their wearers. I discovered James Merry, a self-taught embroiderer who crafts surreal facepieces for Bjork; Damselfrau, a.k.a Magnhild Kennedy, a Norwegian maker gracing a myriad of fashion magazines; Carina Shoshtary, a German mask artist whose Instagram perch @Fashion_For_Bank_ Robbers provides a visual salve for selfie culture. Around the same time, I encountered the first two creatives I stumbled upon the remarkable Threadstories; a Dublin-born, Kilkenny-based artist whose colour-bursting specimens instantly grabbed me. A variety of enshrouded profiles danced across my smartphone screen, stretching from tassled balaclavas to avant-garde takes on Monsters Inc. Checking their Instagram numbers quickly proved I was late to the party: tens of thousands of followers were already watching this mystery maker’s every movement, seeking respite from more egocentric posters. The sheer scale of their online backing bemuses Thread20