Serpent masks of this kind were traditionally carved from hand-split cedar boards, engineered not only for visual impact but for performative function. Piercings—like those visible here—served a dual purpose: enhancing the mask’s expressive force while reducing its weight. In this example, the boards have been planed down to remarkable thinness, further lightening the load for the dancer. Every compositional choice serves the body in motion.

In performance, the dancer would adopt a semi-crouched stance, turning their head slowly from side to side, as if scanning the space for something unseen yet vital. A robe, cape-like and flowing, would amplify each shift and step, creating the illusion of transformation. The mask, then, is not static—it’s an instrument of searching, of becoming, animated fully only in movement.

The composition of this headdress is a vivid orchestration of colour and form. Saturated reds, yellows, greens, and blues pulse against the natural wood grain, while bold white and black contrasts anchor the composition. These high-contrast areas act as compositional pivots, drawing and redirecting our gaze. Altogether, the work achieves a visual dynamism where no space feels empty or static. It’s a mask that seems to move, even when at rest.