I know that when we’re approaching 20, what’s considered “profound” or “groundbreaking” may only be mildly, either of those things. We have a naively stocked repertoire of comparisons to run with at that time, after all…

Take FRAME 10. This is from a contact sheet from my college b&w darkroom class.

If I were someone else, producing one of those cliché-filled feeds or coffee table books we all know so well, I might say this lone rearview mirror I snapped from my parents’ car one cold Vermont day speaks to: “The things I can’t see right before me, when I’m dwelling in the past.”

But I’m not about to say that.

This thing holds up for me as profound, not as conceptual art, not as a half-assed spiritual truth. It holds up for me because I’m still that kid intrigued enough by a device whose sole mission is to mirror things back… to photograph it staying out of frame.

Because that windshield wiper was enough for me then, was enough of me then, as it is now…

And that is a good thing.

Because for all my love of alternative dress, and periodically getting shot wearing it, I wither like the rest of us, and I know that.

So maybe FRAME 10 holds up for me because there’s childlike aliveness in me yet, a sparkly curator still getting to decide, what is or isn’t profound. One thankful for the luxury of time spent contemplating a random photograph. Enough sustenance that she can travel to those places where the dictatorial operating force of a survival mechanism kicked in high gear, alone, most certainly wouldn’t allow her. Because she knows that heavy mist, very well too…

I believe it is way more fun to live as the enthusiast than the critic. And it is way more fun to feel gratitude for the bounty that shows up in a pretzel, than not to.

I’m proud to say my child is far from being shelved. My body, may be closer.

Everything is as profound, or as insignificant, as we want it to be…

How I angle that mirror, is up to me.

© 2016. Sherry Mills, Inc.