The small mirror-clad trinket box had been found at a thrift store, but Justina Buckles had missed that one corner was already cracked. It was sort of attractive in its own way, and for me as a maker, it was immediately obvious that I would have to do something with the mirrors. I was especially attracted to the engraved patterns in the mirrors, acting like a layer of obfuscation, actually getting in the way of seeing a single, clear image in them. The patterns suggested that a feeling of mirroring and reflection was more important than the actual use of them to say, check your make-up. That layering and self-obstruction of functions was very attractive to me. If I wanted to do something new with the mirrors though, the first task would have to be getting them off of the box, if possible without breaking them. Needless to say, they didn’t all survive, but enough did for me to be able to continue with the next stage.

One big square and four narrow slivers had survived intact. That was just enough for me to start experimenting. My idea was to enhance the contradiction between actually showing a mirror image, and just confusing and hiding what was being shown. I placed the large mirror as a backing in a narrow box I quickly put together from scrap wood. The four stand-ups which hold narrow mirror pieces, are hinged on pegs in their top and bottom, so that they can revolve around their own axis and reveal and reflect different patterns and mirror images.

It was quite clear to me that the natural wood of the box stole way too much attention from the mirrors, and would have to be painted black. Unfortunately, I was finishing this piece on the very last day of the repair shop and just couldn’t find the time to paint the box myself. Luckily enough, Justina turned out to be gifted with practical skills, and didn’t mind finishing the piece for me. Thanks Justina! I actually find the exchange happening even more interesting in the cases where the recipient of the sculpture has taken active part themselves, even if this only happens by an accident or necessity so to speak. I was also very happy to receive a few nice photos of Everview in situ, one of them here below, showing how it works as a kind of painting, kind of sculpture, kind of decorative mirror, but above all I hope, as a reflection on reflectiveness and its deceptive qualities. Looking at the box from a bit of a distance, one can’t really get a clear idea of what one is seeing, the reflected image sent back being all cut up and also obscured by the engraved patterns in the mirrors themselves. The blackness of the frame itself being an absolutely necessary quality, since black is a very modest colour that always steps back for anything else next to it to take the centre stage.