The Mask Man

Here we go everyone! Yet another post about Venice. Sick of hearing about Italia yet?
Anyways, now I am going to talk about one of the most famous souvenirs you can find there-Venetian masks.

        These were literally ALL OVER the place in both cities. One of the vendors at a street stand in Florence had some more expensive ones, and explained it was because they were made in Venice. Well, since we were going to Venice, and these expensive ones were clearly no different than the others, I didn't bother.
         I did want to bother when we actually got to the city on the water, when I saw how beautiful some of them were, but my pragmatic self (I know she doesn't come out too often, but for some reason I heard her voice regarding this) told me it was irrational and it would break in my backpack. Instead, I took some illegal photographs of them (there were signs everywhere saying NO FOTOS).
        I don't feel too bad about it though, because I am about to give credit to the artist who did these particular masterpieces. All of the pictures you see above are from one store in particular, a little hidden one not quite in the touristy section. These were the most beautiful masks I saw the whole time I was in Italy. You can probably guess which one I would give an arm and a leg for. Hint: it's my favorite color and has an enormous feather. 
        This store was really tiny and literally overwhelmed with masks, hanging from every possible surface and each one perfectly unique. There was a man sitting behind a wide counter surrounded by paper mache molds and painting a mask. We complimented him on how beautiful his work was, and then one of my friends asked him how long he had been making them. He looked confused and asked, "¿Hablas español?"

Sidenote: This completely thrilled me, because it meant I got to use my Spanish and also because I had not experienced culture shock until I got to Italy. Once I stepped off the train, I realized everything was in Italian. Not a surprise, but I hadn't realized how comfortable I was in Spain, even with my minimal Spanish learning. By the end of the Italy trip, I was so excited to get back to a Spanish speaking country!

I responded and asked him how many years he had been making the masks. He continued painting and said, "Hace veintiseis años." For 26 years. He paused, searching for the words, and then shrugged. "Es mi vida." It's my life. 

        This mask man, talented and quiet, is hidden on one of the side streets of Venezia, painting and sparkling right along with the glitter he puts on the masks. When he said, "It's my life," I realized there was a story there. I wish I had bought a mask from him. I wish I had stayed and talked to him longer. But more than that, I wish I had pulled out a notebook and written down what he had to say, because I am sure it was beautiful. Since I can't do that, this will have to suffice.