The Treehouse + The Cave


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Wednesday, May 11, 2005

Mirror

Mirror 4

I often wonder why I'm fascinated by certain things; why certain images, ideas inhabit my thoughts for months, years. Take my Mirror series for example, I've made half-a-dozen posts in as many months, motivated by their refraction.

Is it because they depict the division between you and I?
Is it because they depict the distance between you and I?
Is it because they veil my identity?
Is it because they conflate my gaze and the camera's?
Is it because they represent a literal plane between public and private?
Is it because they are both a literal and figurative reflection?
Is it because they make me a ghost?
Is it because they make me a shadow?
Is it because they make me disappear?
Is it because they make me invisible?
Is it because they're about what I observe not who I am?
Is it because they strike a balance between the external and the internal?
Is it because they're about the glass we live our lives behind?
Is it because they're portals?
Is it because they're black holes?
Is it because they capture outerspace?
Is it because they capture innerspace?
Is it because they graft my camera to my head?
Is it because they filter me?
Is it because they filter you?
Is it because they cloud the issue?
Is it because they're self-portraits?
Is it because they're layered
Is it because they allow me to bounce my gaze off the glass, through my camera, through the web and onto you?

Posted by Andy at 9:31 PM - Permalink

Anonymous Anonymous thought:

Magic mirror
Leon Russell
Standing by the highway suitcase by my side
No place I want to go, I just thought I'd catch a ride
Many people look my way and many pass me by
In moments of reflection, I wonder why
To the thieves I am a bandit,
the mothers think I'm a son
To the preachers I'm a sinner, Lord, I'm not the only one
To the sad ones I'm unhappy, the losers think I'm a fool
To the students I'm a teacher,
with the teachers I'm in school
To the hobos I'm imprisoned, by everything I own
To the soldiers I'm just someone else
who's dying to go home
The general sees a number. A politician's tool.
To my friends I'm just an equal in this whirlpool
Magic Mirror
Won't you tell me, please
Do I find myself in anyone I see
Magic Mirror
If we only could
Try to see ourselves as others would
To policemen I'm suspicious, it's in the way I look
I'm just another character to fingerprint and book
To the censor I'm pornography with no redeeming grace
To the hooker, I'm a customer without a face
And the sellers think I'm merchandise,
they'll have for a song
The left ones think I'm right.
The right ones think I'm wrong.
And many people come my way, and many pass me by
In my quiet reflection I wonder why
Magic Mirror
Won't you tell me, please
Do I find myself in anyone I see
Magic Mirror if we only could
Try to see ourselves as others would.

May 12, 2005 at 4:40 AM - Comment Permalink  

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