I did indeed go to the Museum of Fine Arts on my birthday, as planned, and I took the requisite shot of my legs reflected in the shiny base of Josiah McElheny’s “Endlessly Repeating Twentieth Century Modernism,” a cube-shaped case containing rows of mirrored-glass bottles whose reflections repeat toward infinity. Given an endlessly repeating reflection, the temptation toward reflective photography is equally infinite, so it seems somehow fitting that I’ve revisited (and re-photographed) this same piece over and over and over.
Birthdays are a natural time for reflecting on the repetitive nature of our (sadly) finite lives: none of us, after all, is getting any younger. We might revisit (and re-photograph) the same artwork time and again, but we can’t step into the same proverbial river twice. The “me” who photographed this piece in 2014 is different—older, wider, but not necessarily wiser—than those earlier incarnations who photographed this piece in 2010, 2009, and 2008. Looking at those pictures, now, I can date them primarily by what I’m wearing: I no longer carry that purse; I still wear that skirt and boots; I no longer fit into those jeans; and I literally wore out those sandals, which the manufacturer sadly doesn’t make any more. “Endlessly Repeating Twentieth Century Modernism” is part of the museum’s permanent collection, but everything around it (myself included) has done nothing but change since it was acquired.
The illusion of McElheny’s piece, in other words, is that of objects endlessly repeating without changing: something that never happens outside the artificial realm of art. We humans repeat ourselves for a time, returning to the same scenes to do, think, and say roughly the same things over and over again…but our current selves don’t perfectly mirror our previous selves. Artworks, on the other hand, don’t have birthdays: they don’t gain weight, wrinkles, or gray hair, instead freeze-framing a particular moment in time that we changing and aging humans can never return to. Only in novels do portraits age instead of their subjects, Dorian Gray’s peculiar predicament being one that none of the rest of us share.
I recently finished Kate Atkinson’s Life After Life, which tells the curious and convoluted story of Ursula Todd, a woman with endlessly repeating lives. Ursula has a seemingly infinite number of chances to live the life she was destined to lead: whenever her life takes a turn down a less-than-promising avenue, darkness falls and she is born again. Like the protagonist in the romantic comedy Groundhog Day, Ursula Todd has (and apparently needs) multiple chances to make the right choices in her life; the rest of us, it seems, are fated to botch and bungle our way without hope for an infinite number of re-tries.
It might be tempting to wish for endlessly repeating lives, but perhaps we should be careful what we wish for. A few days before Henry David Thoreau died, he was asked by a family friend what he thought about the afterlife, and Thoreau famously replied “One world at a time.” Even without the hope or threat of endlessly repeating lives, our days repeat themselves with startling regularity: another day, another dollar; another year, another birthday. Some mornings when I’m taking the dogs to and from our backyard dog pen, I marvel at the cyclic redundancy of such mundane chores: surely in a past life I was a farmer tending livestock, my entire world revolving around the in-goes and out-goes of animal care. We might not have infinite lifetimes to attain our destiny, but we do have a lengthy repetition of days. What is a life, after all, but a collection of moments, “yesterday,” “today,” and “tomorrow” repeating themselves, one after another, for a certain spell, a finite resource not to be wasted.
Jan 17, 2014 at 9:03 am
I love these images, Lorianne.
And I’d love to discuss “Life After Life” with you — as soon as I finish it; I started it on an airplane yesterday!
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Jan 18, 2014 at 3:28 am
“Life After Life” is on my reading list! I didn’t even know what it was about, but I liked Kate Atkinson’s “Started Early, Took My Dog,” so I’d decided to read it based on that.
Interesting artwork. It’s interesting and revealing to go back and visit (and photograph) the same piece over and over.
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Jan 18, 2014 at 9:34 am
I think I was with you at some sighting of Endlessly repeating (just searched my Flickr photos – yup, 2008, though not your birthday). I read Life After Life last year and loved it once I got the hang of what she was doing (what, wait, I thought she…), fascinated to recognize characters turning up from another angle. The movie Sliding Doors was another interesting twist on alternative narratives running simultaneously, the “what if” of the forks in our paths.
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Jan 18, 2014 at 8:26 pm
“but our current selves don’t perfectly mirror our previous selves”
really?
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Jan 19, 2014 at 7:36 pm
I just came in through the 10 Year Blogiversary FP door. Blogging just over two years, myself, I am in awe. Ten years ago, my son chat-room-ed, but I had no interest in that. I have a 5-year, and a 6-year blog friends. Mr. Six-year seems to have run short of themes, and only publishes infrequently, while Mr. Five-year keeps plodding, and posting almost daily. His count is near 1200. Might I ask how many posts you’ve put out in ten years? 🙂
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Feb 3, 2014 at 8:38 am
Reblogged this on The next step…..
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