The mask is often read as concealment, as if it were hiding something. The opposite is closer to the truth: it removes the face so that nothing competes with the work.
Every session, putting it on is a small decision renewed — not a costume assumed once but a position taken again each time. The face is what an audience scans first, and while they scan, they are not watching the footwork, the line of a handstand, the rhythm of a rope. Cover the face and the attention has nowhere to go but the movement.
There is also the simpler arithmetic: the work is meant to outlast the person doing it. A body changes; a practice can stay legible. The mask keeps the record about the practice rather than the practitioner. That is why it stays. It is not anonymity for its own sake. It is a decision about what deserves to be seen.