22 March 2020, Turoń.
Yes, they're supposed to be scary. The Turoń masks from Poland--not masks to be worn (as in N-95) but rather figures or effigies--tur being the Polish word for aurochs (an ancestor of the bull)--so, wild animal-headed apparition, blunt and hairy--and (most important) mis-formed. The way the parts don't quite fit together in the details--a clump of matted fur bunched up against a slab of molded paper pulp--the horns being real (various sources) as well as their position at the back crest of the skull--and the ears and animal nostrils, all showing an intimate knowledge of the rural world. The overall form surprisingly coherent, however--that's why they're tricky to draw. More insane donkey than crocodile (what makes this so?) Elegant, even. The elegance deriving from an astute recognition of reality. Like the hussar riders with their wind-blown banshee harnesses. High up over their heads. Producing a screaming sound as they'd charge the Ottoman troops.
I read somewhere that the purpose of these masks was to frighten away winter. On first glance, seems like it might work. Other forces as well...
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Czeslaw Milosz on his home country of Lithuania. How every stream and tree had its own resident spirit--one knew them all--so that the landscape was populated with familiarity. When he came to the States, living in California and teaching at Berkeley--he found the landscape of the Sierra Nevada deeply frightening. Because (to Milosz, at least) it was so totally unknown...
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My father, quoting Lenin: "Freedom is the recognition of necessity." Sometimes a scary thought...
