Mirror images
“ You can just see a little peep of the passage in Looking- glass House, if you leave the door of our passage as far as you can see, only you know it may be quite different on beyond. “
“ Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There “ (1871)
Lewis Carroll
In physics, reflection occurs when a light ray strikes a surface and is reflected in another direction. If the surface is smooth it is called a mirror image or mirror reflection. The shadows of a mirror reflected light are clear, contrasted and strongly expressed.
We think of the mirror image as reflection of reality. It proves that we exist. It awakens the narcissistic in us and makes us examine our reflection sometime for hours. Just like in a story it whispers to us about how well we look.
What happens when the mirror is broken? Do broken mirrors scatter images and how would reality look if we put the mirror’ s peaces back together?
What if the mirror doesn’t reflect precisely and takes us inside a labyrinth of awry mirrors and unendingly multiplying reflections?
I ask myself, how the reflected version of our world would look and are there really reflected images at all. Every thing would be very different than just a twisted upside-down rule… Reality, just a quiet, blurred background, on which stand out reflected and multiplied images, blurred shadows couth in the trap of the mirror. My instinctive fear is awakened, the fear that my image can be captured, multiplied, broken and deformed. The mirror will lay it in space and repeat it infinitely fusing it with older images, remembered from other people who have looked upon the mirror. It will twist the projections until the reflected reality turns into a memory unidentifiable and fragmented. The mirror remembers and stacks up layer after layer transparent surfaces, layers of transparent images. The story about such as a mirror reality would be considered literature nonsense.
I’m looking at the white sheet of paper and here I go… I’m placing layer upon layer of memories - reflections of the past. I’m placing them in the endlessness: the sheet of paper is my mirror. I find the lines of my face in the chaos of transparent images… I find my self.
The fragments of randomly piled up past events turn in to projections of the future. But in what the White queen said, there is a huge advantage - a human’s memories work in two directions.
I’m taking a new sheet…
“ You can just see a little peep of the passage in Looking- glass House, if you leave the door of our passage as far as you can see, only you know it may be quite different on beyond. “
“ Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There “ (1871)
Lewis Carroll
In physics, reflection occurs when a light ray strikes a surface and is reflected in another direction. If the surface is smooth it is called a mirror image or mirror reflection. The shadows of a mirror reflected light are clear, contrasted and strongly expressed.
We think of the mirror image as reflection of reality. It proves that we exist. It awakens the narcissistic in us and makes us examine our reflection sometime for hours. Just like in a story it whispers to us about how well we look.
What happens when the mirror is broken? Do broken mirrors scatter images and how would reality look if we put the mirror’ s peaces back together?
What if the mirror doesn’t reflect precisely and takes us inside a labyrinth of awry mirrors and unendingly multiplying reflections?
I ask myself, how the reflected version of our world would look and are there really reflected images at all. Every thing would be very different than just a twisted upside-down rule… Reality, just a quiet, blurred background, on which stand out reflected and multiplied images, blurred shadows couth in the trap of the mirror. My instinctive fear is awakened, the fear that my image can be captured, multiplied, broken and deformed. The mirror will lay it in space and repeat it infinitely fusing it with older images, remembered from other people who have looked upon the mirror. It will twist the projections until the reflected reality turns into a memory unidentifiable and fragmented. The mirror remembers and stacks up layer after layer transparent surfaces, layers of transparent images. The story about such as a mirror reality would be considered literature nonsense.
I’m looking at the white sheet of paper and here I go… I’m placing layer upon layer of memories - reflections of the past. I’m placing them in the endlessness: the sheet of paper is my mirror. I find the lines of my face in the chaos of transparent images… I find my self.
The fragments of randomly piled up past events turn in to projections of the future. But in what the White queen said, there is a huge advantage - a human’s memories work in two directions.
I’m taking a new sheet…
De l'autre côté du miroir I, 65/65 cm, acrylique, collage
De l'autre côté du miroir II, 65/65 cm, acrylique, collage
De l'autre côté du miroir III, 60/120 cm, acrylique, collage
De l'autre côté du miroir IV, 65/65 cm, acrylique, collage
De l'autre côté du miroir V, 65/65 cm, acrylique, collage
" Les reflets I ", 81/102 cm, collage, acrylique, papier
" Les reflets II ", 81/102 cm, collage, acrylique, papier
" Le miroir I ", 56/71 cm, collage, acrylique, papier
" Le miroir II ", 56/71 cm, collage, acrylique, papier
" Le miroir III ", 56/71 cm, collage, acrylique, papier
" Le miroir IV ", 56/71 cm, collage, acrylique, papier
Les miroirs I, 56/71 cm, collage, acrylique, papier
Les miroirs II, 56/71 cm, collage, acrylique, papier
Les miroirs III, 56/71 cm, collage, acrylique, papier
Les miroirs IV, 56/71 cm, collage, acrylique, papier
Les miroirs V, 56/71 cm, collage, acrylique, papier
Les miroirs VI, 56/71 cm, collage, acrylique, papier
Les miroirs VII, 56/71 cm, collage, acrylique, papier
