Emily's head
What a lovely face. No wonder I love her.
It is intrigueing how different the two sides seem.
Note the light sneer, not as obvious as Diana Rigg, but subtly inviting nontheless.
The left side (hers) seems to be a direct challenging stare, while the right seems to be uneasy, looking off (for help, perhaps?)
All in all she looks like someone a bit embarrassed and uneasy at looking into the imposing big black box of this new invention (the camera) a little later than Daguerre's machine.
Comparing the photographic quality to pictures of civil war times, I see an improvement in picture quality.
I wonder how long she had to hold that pose?
Lets take it apart and see what gives.
Very interesting. I think we have to ignore the neck.
The photo has her head turned a bit so the two sides of the neck seem different sizes.
Also the light is from her left so that the left side is much brighter than the right
So let's not read too much into skin color.
I begin to wonder about this right brain, left brain stuff.
I can understand how it might affest facial expression.
Could it affect the actual phytsical formation of the head.
Lookin right at you
Boldly going where no 19th century woman dared?
The real Emily? The alter ego?
A timid and unsure girl?
The public face?
Now Let's assemble two faces using just lefts on one and just rights on the other.
Wild nights?........................She could not stop for death?
There is still a strong determination in all three faces.
Something to think about, eh?
Labels: Emily Dickinson
posted by Lane Savant at 9:37 AM
4 Comments:
liked you post its cool.that is so neat how you did that.makes you think about ones own face.
It's easy to do with "paint"
I haven't done my face yet. It does really show how complex our perceptions of each other are.
I've always thought Emily had more of an impish sneer than people gave her credit for. I didn't really find a way into her poetry until I heard the story of the time a cranky old lady knocked on her door, looking for an address. As Emily told it, "I directed her to the cemetery, to save her the trouble of moving." Once I was aware of that cutting wit, the poems had so many more dimensions. Silly me—it was there in her face the whole time.
People of higher intelligence by definition live in a world of fools.
They also have the mental equipment for irony, sarcasm, and other double edged coping mechanisms.
Who knows, maybe there are those smarter than us who have developed even more sophisticated methods in order to deal with our stupidity.
Our souls may soar, but our feet are still covered in mud.
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