In 2008, I bought spare clock hands at Hobby Lobby. I wasn’t sure why. I just knew I couldn’t 𝔫𝔬𝔱 buy them.
I was a confused college student at SIU-C, getting ready to switch my major from Fashion Design to Fashion Merchandising. I remember staring at those clock hands and wondering why I had bought them. Of course, I journaled about it.
The journal’s cover had lipstick and kiss prints on it. I didn’t know it then, but makeup was already leaving its DNA on the story.
I didn’t have an answer.
Seventeen years later, the idea revealed itself.
Clock hour, minute, and second hands would become part of a handheld mirror during makeup appointments. When someone looks at themselves, they can shift their focus between their reflection and the clock. We can set the hands to the time they were born, or to midnight, the moment the clock strikes twelve, when something turns.
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘥𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭.
I’ve kept time, life, and death very close to me through this re-exploration of makeup.
I believe this is one of the ways we speak to ourselves across time: we leave things behind before we understand what we’re saying.
I do this all the time with feelings, ideas, and unique objects I can’t explain the purpose of yet. Then, so many years later, another version of me finds it and finally understands.
𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴.
We need symbols and substance. We need meaning-making and reminders that looking at ourselves is never just about what we see at first glance.