The last strip of gauze comes away from an actress’s cheek beneath a single workshop lamp. She sits upright with her eyes closed, wrapped in a pale cotton gown and head scarf. In front of her, the mask maker holds a rough plaster face edged with loose gauze. Its slight smile gives the otherwise quiet moment an unsettling difference.

Three figures stand behind the chair in dark clothes, wearing the large paper heads of a hare, an owl and a stag. Long ears, pale eye discs and branching antlers rise out of the shadows. The heads retain their handmade character: uneven paper edges, layered surfaces and subdued paint. They belong naturally among the tools and plaster forms filling the room.

Shelves of faces line the whitewashed brick wall, while bowls, brushes, jars and folded gauze crowd the workbench. Warm light separates the actress’s skin from the powdery cast and the coarse cotton around her shoulders. The close view keeps the tiny act of lifting the gauze readable, with the three watchful masks giving the workshop its Halloween atmosphere.