Text by Charlotte Klink

Her eyes are strange. Her eyes are just very strange. She doesn’t know it yet. Still, everything is fine, but that’s about to change. What is it about eyes that they can trap you? What if they are your own? The woman whose eyes are about to be so very strange is putting on makeup in front of a mirror. Then, her eyes change to cut-out, cartoonish orifices, leading her deep down into a vast tunnel system. The eyes become a trap, a lure, reappearing in the tunnel system together with enigmatic signifiers on the tunnel walls. Breathing sounds and heavy footsteps in the water are accompanied by blurry images of the tunnel illuminated by a flashlight. The light is moving with the gaze of the one who carries it. There’s another flashlight in the tunnel, mirrored by the water on the ground – like a pair of eyes – presupposing that there is someone else down there with her? Just like the woman keeps checking her (normal) eyes in a lurking, mistrusting manner, as if they could change any second to some other eyes, the flashlight lures the gaze. Have you ever looked yourself in the mirror and saw your reflection with someone else’s eyes, as they say? Have you ever watched yourself, lurkingly, like a predator waiting to pounce on her prey? Then, when your eyes become all strange, you become someone other than yourself. Getting ready fort he party is all about this lurking, waiting, becoming. Not yet, but any minute now the leap might happen.