From the social mask to the expressive mask 🎭
A workshop on working with Instagram-as-mask for presence, not performance
Dear friends,
Back in April, many of you noticed that I left my old Instagram behind and started again as @thresholdsinger.
I overheard in a coffee shop recently some women talking about how “fake” everything on Instagram is. Certainly for me, over many years, any real possibilities of social connection there were drowned in polished self-brands, highlight reels of people’s lives, and the low self-worth that I believe is intentionally programmed into the platform.
It wasn’t feeding me — not as a friend, not as a human, and not even as a home for my work. I was trying to use one account for everything: keeping up with people I love, holding onto pieces of my past, sharing fragments of my creative practice, and building the deeper streams of my work. In trying to do all of that in one place, I ended up feeling like I was speaking to a room full of ghosts.
So I made a choice, in line with leaving Facebook over a decade ago: I stopped using Instagram as a social space. Now, the social lives in more direct, human-to-human ways — WhatsApp voice memos, Zoom calls, dinners, walks, even becoming a regular at my local bar! Come join me for an old-fashioned and some cheeseballs!
I’m interested in real, truthful relationships. Instead of walking past my window and peeking inside at a curated image, I invite those who want to connect with me to knock on my door. I’ll welcome you in, offer you tea, we’ll listen to music, doodle side by side, walk to the river, and speak from the heart.
Now, Instagram — Threshold Singer — is persona more than person. An intentional avatar that holds one fragment of me: my mythopoetic writing, my one-on-one work as a midwife of spiritual-creative emergence, and my artistic exploration. It’s not meant for everyone. That’s the point. It’s a coded space, gated by resonance, tuned to those who are operating in a similar atmosphere and already working within harmonious mental and spiritual frameworks.
I’ve come to believe this is what Instagram really is: not a mirror of who we are, but a mask we choose to wear. To strip away the social mask is to ask: what is a more authentic mask? Instead of a mask to hide, the invitation is to put on the shaman’s mask, the theatrical mask — a face, when worn, that invites something deeper to move through. This is the erotic intrigue of the masked ball: when the social mask of containment is dropped, what kind of truth is ready to come forward?
My collaborator and friend, artist Nicholas Dallwitz (Florigenix), does this beautifully. He wears three different masks/accounts — one for AI art, one for Earth-based synth music, one for painting —each with its own color, rhythm, and function. They all belong to him, but each expresses something different. And he’s learned how to play with them without losing himself, but actually to wield his self as fractals of multiplicity.
Together, we offer two very different templates for approaching Instagram, but from the same heart-centered place. His masks operate at scale (112K followers on his main account), seeding resonance through visionary image. Mine is a doorway to intimacy: a frequency-based alignment that invites you deeper into relationship as you pass through the gates.
This Wednesday at 11am EST, Nicholas and I are hosting a 90-minute workshop on Zoom. We’ll share our two approaches and open a conversation about using Instagram masks with intention — not as cover-up or performance, but as tools for authentic expression and real connection.
This is not a manual for mastering the algorithm.
It is a compass for navigating presence.
Space is limited to keep the circle small. Recordings will be available.
🎭 Explore the workshop here.
If you feel curiosity, join us.
What is paradoxical is that since I stepped into the mask, I have found myself more fully unmasked. I no longer filter my expression for the sake of another’s comfort. I no longer circle the endless dance I did for years: trying to fit the vastness of who I am into 150 characters. I no longer dilute my thinking to make it familiar.
I’ve come to peace with my role as edge-walker — which is what all artists ultimately are — and I trust that even if the mind cannot rationalize why, the heart can feel when it wants connection.
Standing in honor of your most unmasked self,
Saga