"i have a postcard on which i've become rather dependent in the making of this book. It shows five remarkably similar women sitting at a round table, each with a closed fan placed before her. Their gazes have a rather disarming way of just missing each other; they are together but apart.
If you look at this photograph long enough, you suddenly realise that the stripes that make up the wall behind them are in fact a series of mirrors. That this is a photograph of one woman, sitting with her back to us at a segment of the table that is completed, as is her company, by the reflections in the mirrors.
The relationship of interiority and exteriority is never simple. The exterior is already implied in the interior and vice versa. How many selves does the real woman in this postcard feel she has? Is the photographer trying to tell us something about her? And these reflections, are they surface woman only? Do they have an interiority?"
Francesca Hughes
If you look at this photograph long enough, you suddenly realise that the stripes that make up the wall behind them are in fact a series of mirrors. That this is a photograph of one woman, sitting with her back to us at a segment of the table that is completed, as is her company, by the reflections in the mirrors.
The relationship of interiority and exteriority is never simple. The exterior is already implied in the interior and vice versa. How many selves does the real woman in this postcard feel she has? Is the photographer trying to tell us something about her? And these reflections, are they surface woman only? Do they have an interiority?"
Francesca Hughes
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