I quickly regretted not bringing my camera along. Far more interesting to me than the plethora of consumer consumption collections were the bizarre window entities, apparently frozen in place, mimicking the species of the masses: the degree to which I could recognize my own kind in these apparitions varied immensely. Most potent, however, was the overriding message that the look of chic/cool is now manifested primarily in a triad of models: featureless visages; variations of decapitation (tending towards the partial); and -- most disturbingly -- faces conveying surreal cocktails of zombie-meets-Stepford wife expressions. I was thankful for thick glass encasements.
Tonight I deliberately revisited the local version of Mordor, this time with two simple, premeditated missions: (1) to purchase an item my daughter pointed out during my prior excursion, and (2) to attempt to capture the decidedly strange development in marketing which seems to emphasize the notion that in order to grab attention one needs to adopt an utterly vacant, beyond-uninterested face, or assume a pose screaming either "run for your life" or "please save me from this nameless torture . . ." (These latter two often coexist.)
After 90 minutes of photographing this odd anthropological development I left the financial fortress wondering if the proverbial notion of life imitating art is a frightening future possibility, or if those mannequins are mirrors of a reality which has become opaque due to its pervasive familiarity. Either thesis is terrifying.
Thus, tonight's submission is the opening image from what will likely become a new facet of my oeuvre over the weeks and months to come. In deference to the traditional notion of Christmas being a time of warmth, love and good cheer, the entry is one of the more benign from my foray this evening.
Faceless Model in Red, #5790
(c)2009 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.
(click image for larger version)
Details: December 22, 2009; Canon 20D; f/11 @ 1/25 sec; -2/3 EV; ISO 400; 55mm.
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What better way to spend a furlough day than to catch up on the Murray project? Better than visiting Valley Fair, which I didn't know was an outpost of Mordor.
ReplyDeleteMr V., thank you for taking the time to peruse and comment. Indeed, you might be surprised at how few folk realize that Mordor's borders are largely defined by the trance-and-exhausted-despair inducing watchtowers deviously disguised "Malls." Caveat Emptor!
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