A Photo A Day For 6 Months: Day 140~ A Face In The Crowd
"Deep in the human unconscious is a pervasive need for a logical universe that makes sense. But the real universe is always one step beyond logic."
Do you see what I see? Do you see that little woman with the red curly hair? When I looked at this lifeless little dahlia, I saw a little old grandma with reddish/brown hair. When I first showed this photo to Alan, he said he saw a Raggedy Ann doll. Alan gets the creeps from any kind of Raggedy Ann or Raggedy Andy dolls, so the dahlia really gave him the creeps.
I don't get the wiggins from Raggedy Ann or any random little grandmas with red hair, so I am not put off by it, but at the same time it's not like it's not weird that it so closely resembles a doll of some sort. Sometimes you can put such things down to the mind simply filling in details that your eyes can't focus on. And that can be good or bad.
When I was a little girl, a dear friend of my mother's showed up one afternoon with a surprise gift for me. It was a painting by Thomas Lawrence called, "Pinkie." It was a painting of young Sarah Goodin Barrett Moultin. She posed for the painting when she was about 11 years old, but unfortunately died a year or so later. Had she lived, she would have been the aunt of Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
The painting, and the story behind it makes for interesting reading. But long before I had heard of the details of Sarah's life and demise, I had to admit... I HATED THAT PAINTING WITH A GREAT PASSION! In fact, it scared the SHIT out of me. I was pleasant to the lady who gave it to me, but I would have nothing of it actually hanging in my room. KICKING AND SCREAMING as I recall. My mother finally gave in and put it my parents bedroom, but it didn't work out there either.
One night, about two weeks or so after my mother hung the painting in their bedroom, my dad got up in the middle of the night, took the painting off the wall, and hung it in the spare bedroom where my brother stayed when he was commuting between San Francisco and Sacramento. It didn't work out well in that room. A few nights later. my brother, again in the middle of the night, got up and took the painting off the wall, and set it next to the sofa in the living room. No questions were asked. We all knew it was a spooky painting.
Everyone except my mother, who insisted we were all full of beans, and had watched one too many Creature Features movies. She took it upon herself to hang Pinkie in the living room, coincidentally on the wall opposite the large brass mirror. The mirror my dad could see from the desk in his office.
Once again, in the middle of the night, my dad got up, this time from his desk where he had been working, walked to the living room, took the painting off the wall, and turned it around and hung it backwards toward the wall it was hanging on. I just happened to be passing through the room when he did it, and felt a good bit of satisfaction at seeing others feeling uneasy. There is safety in numbers... right?
"Well, it's just that the eyes kinda follow you around" said dad. "Yep." Said I.
The next day the picture was moved to Mom's plant room, where it hung for about 20 years or so. About a month later another coincidence took place... mom stopped watering her plants before bed, and started watering them first thing after breakfast each day. We never talked about it, but I am pretty sure Pinkie had finally gotten to her to, but being the good natured, respectful daughter that I was I never said... I TOLD YOU SO!
Is creepy in the eye of the beholder? Is one man's creepy another man's beautiful? Is creepy subjective? Had we watched too many episodes of Creature Features? Were the eyes in the picture following us around the room? Was it all just our imaginations? Was it all just the power of suggestion? Was it a haunted painting?
I'm thinking... ummm... yes! And we will leave it at that.
Now, tell me, do you see the face in the dahlia? If so, do you find it cute or spooky/creepy?
"In dreams you don't need to make any distinctions between things. Not at all. Boundaries don't exist. So, in dreams there are hardly ever collisions. Even if there are, they don't hurt. Reality is different. Reality bites. Reality, reality."