Resolution (Justin Benson & Aaron Moorhead, 2012)
Have you seen Velazquez's The Rokeby Venus (1651)? Of course you have, that was a rhetorical question. It's the painting of a lady looking at a reflection of herself in a mirror. The mirror's being held up by a cherub. You know the one. Yeah... that's the one. It's not the greatest painting ever, unless you're a particularly big fan of Velazquez, but you don't seem to meet many people who are these days.
Anywho, if you've ever looked at and/or talked about this painting, then you may have noticed something funny about the perspective, or the angle, whatever you want to call it, something is afoot. Venus is looking into the mirror, and presumably at herself, but we can see her face in the mirror. And we're not looking at the mirror from the same position as her, we're coming at it from a different angle.
You must have noticed this about mirrors at some point: if I'm looking in a mirror and I can see someone else's face, then they'll be able to see me too. That's the way it works. Ergo, if we can see Venus in the mirror, then presumably she's *not* looking at herself. She's looking at us. But of course there is no 'us' in this painting. There's only Velazquez. He's painting it from the position that we're looking at it from. So Venus wouldn't be looking at 'us', per se, she'd be looking at Velazquez. Everyone with me so far? Good.
But here's something to consider: maybe Venus is looking at 'us' all the same, bypassing the existence of a creator. Maybe if you were to tilt the Rokeby Venus so that you could see what Venus was looking at in the mirror, you would find a 17th century painting of your own face. Still, and lifeless, and looking back at yourself. That'd be pretty creepy, right?
And even if you can't get to grips with that, consider this. Your experience of the painting is the same as Velazquez's. Sure, he painted it, but he could only see what you can see, even though he came up with the whole thing in the first place: creator and audience, permanently in the same position, separated only by time. The next time you see The Rokeby Venus, see it as Velazquez, not as yourself. You already spend enough time being yourself anyway.
Anywho, if you've ever looked at and/or talked about this painting, then you may have noticed something funny about the perspective, or the angle, whatever you want to call it, something is afoot. Venus is looking into the mirror, and presumably at herself, but we can see her face in the mirror. And we're not looking at the mirror from the same position as her, we're coming at it from a different angle.
You must have noticed this about mirrors at some point: if I'm looking in a mirror and I can see someone else's face, then they'll be able to see me too. That's the way it works. Ergo, if we can see Venus in the mirror, then presumably she's *not* looking at herself. She's looking at us. But of course there is no 'us' in this painting. There's only Velazquez. He's painting it from the position that we're looking at it from. So Venus wouldn't be looking at 'us', per se, she'd be looking at Velazquez. Everyone with me so far? Good.
But here's something to consider: maybe Venus is looking at 'us' all the same, bypassing the existence of a creator. Maybe if you were to tilt the Rokeby Venus so that you could see what Venus was looking at in the mirror, you would find a 17th century painting of your own face. Still, and lifeless, and looking back at yourself. That'd be pretty creepy, right?
And even if you can't get to grips with that, consider this. Your experience of the painting is the same as Velazquez's. Sure, he painted it, but he could only see what you can see, even though he came up with the whole thing in the first place: creator and audience, permanently in the same position, separated only by time. The next time you see The Rokeby Venus, see it as Velazquez, not as yourself. You already spend enough time being yourself anyway.