This door looks back at me; it returns a glance. It is unlike the other doors in that I've never met Minnie Bruce Pratt. I don't know her. But I have met this door. This reminds me of the first time I walked through the halls of HBC. This was before I knew anyone affiliated with the program. I tried to read them from their doors. I tried to decode the program's culture from confusing collages of flier distributions and small clues. Such inconsistent representations, these.

The mask envelopes this project. No people are nearby, yet this is a moment of interaction. Perhaps we underestimate the weight of tiny details in punctuating the ethnographer's field of vision.

At what instant can the ethnographer be fully assured that what's being observed is a human subject and not merely the surrounds, an artificial and perhaps even misleading context of material interference?