What happens when you scatter pieces of yourself across the landscape of home? In this photo series, the mirror becomes a stand-in for identity—playful, searching, distorted, and displaced. From the heated stillness of the microwave to the quiet surrender of the laundry bag, each image captures a moment of self-reflection in spaces where mirrors don’t belong. It’s absurd. It’s poetic. It’s honest.
Microwave – “Still, and Waiting”
The mirror inside the microwave reflects a paused moment—silent, boxed, enclosed.
It’s the self caught mid-thought, heating slowly from within, waiting to be understood.
Fridge – “A Built-in Smile”
The watermelon curves into a perfect smile, but it’s the eyes that betray the truth.
Trapped between cold shelves, the mirror captures a face trying to play along.
The smile is staged—but the eyes, they do all the talking.
Sink – “Blurry Underwater”
Sprinkled with droplets, the mirror wears the residue of use—blurred, wet, alive.
It doesn’t just reflect the mess; it becomes part of it.
Like us in passing moments—touched, changed, never the same shape twice.
Washing Machine – “Spun into Forgetting”
Placed inside the drum, the mirror becomes part of the machinery—trapped, tossed, and silenced by motion. It’s a self caught in the cycle, not above it.
The kind of forgetting that doesn’t erase you, just wears you down.
Plate – “Served Myself”
Placed on a plate like a meal, the mirror becomes an offering of the self—ridiculous and reverent. Who’s eating whom? It’s identity plated up, waiting to be consumed or left cold.
Plant – “A Gentle Imposition”
Lightly placed atop the leaves, the mirror doesn’t weigh them down—it just doesn’t belong. A quiet guest in nature’s rhythm, it reflects nothing but its own awkward presence.
Still, the plant holds it without protest.
Stove – “Face on the Flame”
Set on the burner like a vessel, the mirror becomes the utensil and the offering.
A face stares back from its center—unblinking, exposed.
Here, identity simmers in its own heat, lit from below, impossible to look away from.
Drawer – “Eyes Between Lines”
Tucked inside an open drawer, the mirror aligns a real gaze with Mona Lisa’s—layered gazes meeting across time and fiction. It’s the self as both subject and clue, tucked between pages and reflections, always being read.
Cupboard – “Stored Selves”
Inside the open cupboard, the mirror reflects back slivers of stored clutter.
This is the archive of unspoken selves—boxed away, but always there, waiting to resurface.
Toilet – “Held Over the Unseen”
Two hands hold the mirror above the toilet bowl—deliberate, steady.
It’s not just a discarded reflection, but one made to hover above what we flush away.
A moment of strange dignity in a space meant for letting go.
Laundry Bag – “Tucked Away”
Hidden among clothes and folds, the mirror silently stares back as the laundry is dropped in. A quiet moment of exhaustion, where the self collapses at the end of the day—unseen but still breathing, a reflection tucked away in the folds of routine.
In Mirror, Mirror Out of Place, I set out to dislodge the mirror from its expected roles—to let it roam, reflect, and disturb the ordinary. What emerged wasn’t just a series of displaced reflections, but a layered encounter with selfhood in domestic stillness. The mirror became a witness in kitchens and corners, in vessels and drawers—not to how I appear, but to how I exist. Each image holds a moment of subtle confrontation, of quiet absurdity, of unexpected truth. And maybe that’s where the real self lives: not in perfect symmetry or fixed frames, but in the overlooked, the awkward, the in-between. These were not just photographs—they were conversations with myself in places that don’t usually talk back. This is not about the mirror revealing how I look. It’s about how I am seen by the spaces that hold me.
DoubleSpeak 