A friend from high school commented on this image with a really beautiful analysis:
The dimmed out face in a way feels bolder than the bolder face. Feels like it’s striking you even though it’s so subtle. I interpreted it as someones subconscious talking to their conscious self. Really love this piece. It makes me so curious as to what goes inside your head.
A part of me melted when I read that. For a second I remembered how in IB Art she was always offering these wildly eloquent critiques (Every two weeks we’d throw up our pieces on the board and critique other people’s works) She would always come up with these incredible and thoughtful analyses, like, well, the one above.
Subconsciouses. Consciouses. Freudian-type stuff. The latent thoughts you wake up with, the decisions you didn’t realize you’d already made.
Sometimes when we’re analyzing works in class, I wonder how much of the artist’s decisions were intentional. The extent to which we’re superimposing our own views and expectations on their work. So much of art’s symbolic and representational, supposedly imbued with so much meaning. But maybe we’re drawing from ourselves more than we are from the artist, calling it theirs when really it’s ours.