I have always placed high esteem on this shiny outer surface. I believed and believe, perhaps quite wrongly, that you can understand so much from this crumbling facade. Perhaps its the high value that throughout my life i have placed on sight and vision and aesthetic that draws this conclusion. For a wee small town hic-cup like myself that has spent much of this life trying to understand visual arts, all visual stimula has been something to de-code, something to assess, deconstruct, to understand, to see meaning in. I say again, i place high high value on this tumbling down edifice, housing what actually is real and meaningful.
They say ‘the eyes are the gateway to the soul’, i believe that this works both ways. They are a connection to another, you can see deeper than the soft stretched skin, yet too they are where my soul has entered me. My veiw of the world has largely been constucted from my jigsaw placing of input from my eyes. They are both viewers and viewed. The portal to which tears often come so easy.
Maybe its the constant 24hour news coverage of the eye, the un-shut-off-able nature of vision that, for me atleast, trusts (*as much as one can trust any input) and relies upon sight so much. So i trust (*) sight. And i trust faces (for want of any other clue) as the best outward expression of whats actually real and true within each of us, particularly the eyes. This two way glass, my revolving door, my clearest, most in focus, high-tech, high-in- the-pie-in-the-sky-eye.
I like faces. Even my angry little fucker.