Living on 23rd Avenue has reminded me sometimes of living in residence at university: all the residents in their own rooms (or houses), but still pretty proximal, right across the hall (or street) from each other. Back in my residence hall, people put up pictures or messages on their front doors, which provided a hint as to who dwelt within. I remember what I put on my own door: a sonnet (!) written in Tolkien's Elvish, partly just because it looked cool, but also with the intent of conveying the message that there was an enigmatic, unfathomable person behind the door. Somebody mysterious and impossible to read. Well, that was before "The Lord of the Rings" became so mainstream... Elvish is probably a language option in junior high these days. Not so mysterious anymore. Anyway, the idea of putting a mask on a front door reminded me of that. I like it.
Of course, the whole time I was painting this, all I could think of was Bob Dylan's "Man in the Long Black Coat":
"He looked in... to her eyes
When she stopped... him to ask
If he wanted...to dance
He had a face...like a mask."
With all this artwalk stuff, I still haven't got that new album!