red cardigan, silver envelope, sweat

A photographic work of a silver envelope that arrived at my home. It was a minor piece of mail — I no longer remember who sent it — but its reflective surface was holding an image of myself and the scenery around me. A slight warp, caused by the mismatch between the envelope and its contents, and a few scratches from transit distorted the surface, and the image wavered like the surface of water.

Reflected in it: myself in a red cardigan, a black camera, the green of trees, the light of the sky. Toward the end of the shoot, in the heat of the day, a single drop of sweat fell from my face and remained in the image.

An envelope is, by design, a package that seals information and delivers it to a destination. On this envelope, its role finished, neither the distortion nor the sweat was prepared by me. The image remains, having accepted these chance interventions.