Jessica Art Blog
Lately I have found myself fascinated by reflections. I find myself watching for them as I walk with Cinder or go exploring with my sisters.
What is it that makes them so fascinating?
In part, I think, it is the way they make us stop and look again. Something I have become so accustomed to viewing that I no longer truly see it, is transformed, made extraordinary again.
I know trees. They are there around me every day, but when they are reflected in a puddle in the streets, there is a moment of disconnect: Trees do not belong in the pavement beneath my feet. That moment of non-recognition is a moment in which I see the trees again, admire their uncertain shape in the water, realize again what marvels they are.
There is also the appeal of the miniature. Reflected in a window, the bay becomes a jeweled wonder, no longer too large to take in but there for admiring, treasuring.
And they hint at possibilities, at worlds other than the one we know. Colors change in strange, subtle ways, shapes are ever-so-slightly altered, and there is the minor disorientation from seeing things backward. We are, like Alice, offered the chance to step into another world, to dream of another life, another being.
In that moment, we, too, become extraordinary. For a moment, we cease to be the too-familiar selves and open to possibilities. Who might we be? What might we become?
Lately, I have been fascinated by reflections.
I don't think that fascination is likely to end any time soon.