Self-Portrait Facing Death It looks like a crude thing a child might draw with its crayoned pink and simple features little more than a doodle with a face, though after peering at it for a while it begins to appear less infantile. See how the stubble on the upper lip, the hair on the jaw, the bony shoulders, give the figure an archetypal feel something totemic a tribesman would paint or is it an image more ancestral still, the low forehead, ape-like skull and brow evoking mankind in primordial times and this rough-hewn visage our prototype? But study the face’s geometry, for are the mouth and lips parallel lines, those eye sockets distorted rectangles, the nose and the creased skin beneath forming semi-circles and triangles, and do not these symbols of abstraction suggest an intellectuality and the evolution of modern man? It seems all of these, yet it is the eyes that mesmerize, wide open and exposed those portals to the aging artist’s soul, bewildered, vulnerable, yet resolute, displaying fear and courage facing death, their gaze both a window and a mirror. Then I realize that this masterpiece contains us all and is everything we are and everything we have been. Ian Fletcher Born and raised in Cardiff, Wales, Ian has an MA in English from Oxford University. He lives in Taiwan with his wife, two daughters and cat. He teaches English in a high school. He has had poems and short stories published in 1947 A Literary Journal, Dead Snakes, Schlock! Webzine, Short-story.me, Anotherealm, Under the Bed, A Story In 100 Words, Poems and Poetry, Friday Flash Fiction, and in various anthologies.
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September 2024
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