The therianthrope, a Machine Man and a Creative Man, slides through the woods. I have been fascinated by masks that appear in movies, not so much with the physical object but with the act of veiling what is underneath and why that is necessary. The masked heroines from Metropolis (1927) by Fritz Lang, Eraserhead (1977) by David Lynch, and Ex Machina (2014) by Alex Garland are portrayed as having the power to save mankind but also to bring down apocalypse. There is a kinesthetic familiarity with the mask embodying the savior and the reaper at the same time. Because Mother of Life is the source of life, she is the source of death. She is the source of hope and the source of dread. Mankind thirsts for her love and terrors of her power. I wanted to breathe life into this mask, and turn it into a living creature with its own agency to claw onto or crawl away. The body is made with different parts of my face that are casted from plaster mold weaved together with plaster gauze. Because wood vessels are more porous than plaster, it was extremely difficult to attach the driftwood to the mask. After much trial and error, I frankensteined the body, legs, and the blades with a glue gun. No matter how much organic and synthetic materials seem to flawlessly morph as one on the surface, their cellular materiality pushes against each other. This friction, tension, and rejection while harnessing reflect what happens between multiple interpretations within a representation.