'Til We Have Faces

I have an extensive collection of “themed” or “narrative” t-shirts, probably 40-50 such, and I’m sure that people find it strange for a person of my age and background. On its face, perhaps. But my t-shirts, in all their graphic splendour, display sides of me that are difficult to openly express or that speak to my varied interests and pursuits. They are me but in a much more approachable form.

Many involve periods of history that fascinate me – the American Civil War, Viking and Celtic Britain or Victorian England. Perhaps more than half express my love of literature and literary giants; Chaucer, Joyce, Yeats, Donne, Dostoevsky, Lewis, Tolkien etc.; and many reflect my relationships (real and imagined) with people and society. Those are the most acerbic, cynical and humourous. They reflect me in a way that my actual interfaces can not nor should not. They are the ‘brave, honest face’ that I would like to show but dare not or, perhaps, that I’m wise enough to conceal from ready and continuous view. So, my t-shirts are art, history, culture and good old fashioned therapy. They are my totems, my heraldry and my masks – the ones that I will wear until as C.S. Lewis writes “… we have faces”.