THE PAINTED MAN
The philosophy of identity has been the subject of unceasing debate since the origin of humankind. If you are so minded, you can read the classical scholarly accounts, including the marathon poem ‘The Odyssey,’ understood to have been penned by Homer around the eighth century BC, which, amongst other things, connects with the notion of self. Since I was a kid, and old enough to have deep and meaningful conversations with myself, the enigma of personality has been captivating. As I matured these ambiguities lessened somewhat as I negotiated a career – starting as a police officer ─ getting married and becoming a father. Loss has also shaped who I am. However, since adolescence one identifying feature has remained fairly consistent – the way I look. Save a much later life decision to shave off all my hair, my facial features have retained a consistent depiction. Flicking through family photograph albums the immediate recognition - even decades earlier - is effortless.
Our thin yet resilient skin – the largest human organ – and especially the wrapping around the contours of our faces, provides
