The Optics of What’s Above the Mask

You’ve probably heard that it’s all in the eyes, that the eyes are the windows to the soul. That the eyes are a culmination of love, magic, and admiration, that they’re dangerous but lovely things. That worlds have the possibility to transform and explode when eyes meet: that eye contact is the spark that sets our souls on fire. Eyes are the beacon for the greatest love stories, the most impassioned fights, and the most innocent encounters. When you first face someone, whether we as people can help it or not, tend to be drawn to features like the face, the hair, the smiles, the dimples, and of course, the abyss of identity and purity that are our eyes. These first impressions we craft can carry over into lasting impressions. But though the ability to create these initial notions is at a current loss, we have lost that spark of personal, face-to-face contact - but not our vision.  

In a newly transformed and COVID-regulated world, our forms of communication have adapted to remote interactions. With Zoom, 6-feet distance, and facemasks, it’s no secret that communicating face-to-face is no longer customary. So what’s the new norm when we encounter a post-coronavirus society? Eye-contact. As we all wear facemasks and rely on the power of eye contact, the way we read each other has completely transformed. I have spent years passing teachers, students, and friends in the hallways, flashing a smile at times to hastily avoid the quick, arisen awkwardness. It’s those people and acquaintances that we miss the most, and it’s those little moments, and tendencies that we long for the most. But if that simple smile is no longer exposed, what’s in store with a mask? The communication falls to the eyes. We are all so used to reading a face by its entirety, not what’s visible with a mask. So if society as a whole suddenly must be masked up, quick adaptation is needed and more use of prolonged eye contact. Social interaction tends to only be punctuated with brief periods of mutual glances.  rather than solely relied on. 

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As found in a British study, people tend to only look at each other 30% to 60% of the time when interacting. However, we can inevitably expect this change with the high prevalence of masks. Additionally, 55% of communication is non-verbal: our facial expressions and maneuvers dictate more than we think. Now, how do visual cues come into play? It’s always a startling look. There’s a hunger to subconscious eye contact: fear jostled with lingering curiosity. It is as if in the absence of the visibility of the rest of our faces, we now look to the pupils to extract every piece of information possible. I Find myself at times questioning what I choose to express from underneath my mask. Do I smile for pictures? Can people tell when I’m angry, upset or nervous? Are my most authentic emotions even readable through what little facial recognition I have left? After spending months in isolation wandering the halls of school and grocery aisles underscores the silent conversations I share with strangers. I now attempt to catch someone’s attention and crinkle my eyes to mock the innocence of (what used to be) my carefree smile. 

The strength of a gaze will forevermore hold significance. Science tells us that looking deep into someone’s eyes sets off a whole pattern of brain processes. We have all experienced moments when a long, fixed stare melts away the surrounding world. But as romanticized as these occasions make out to be, there is actually scientific reasoning behind our self-entrenched lenses. A gaze is a physiological response; our bodies produce a chemical called phenylethylamine that helps the brain process the overwhelming awareness of glimpsing into another being’s eyes. Hence the concept of being lost in a gaze. 

As we finally return back to school and slowly transition into bigger public areas, we are beginning to re-expose ourselves to what we once approached with ease. At the loss of quick, witty facial reactions, we now as a society have to master the art of conveying stories through our eyes. That cheesy grin may seem to go to waste in an era of mouth-coverings, but the crinkled eyes revealed tell a different story. We are under the impression that somewhere under our masks, we are hiding our honest feelings, but we must not forget that our eyes speak as much as our lips do, and the manner in which they do is more intimate than words could ever be. During this pandemic, we learned to no longer neglect one of the five human senses. That is an accomplishment in and of itself.