A mirror looks, but you can only tell by looking into it. When conspiratorial glances become established between two mirrors, an endless process is triggered off where the subject-object dichotomy loses its meaning and enters into an infinite repetition where the two merge into one. When two mirrors feel close to one another, it’s natural for them to be tempted to face one another. The fact something becomes entrapped within their game shouldn’t come as a surprise. It’s the Hairdresser Effect, an endless illusion of an object or place entrapped between two mirrors which are looking at one another.
A small store for glassware is traversed by illusory holes, perforations intimated by pairs of mirrors which look into each other, look back and then look again. Several red glass screens join in the game of glances by compartmentalising the mirrors while perturbing the sense of space. They form warm shafts of light which stretch out beyond the range of visual perception.
The street is reflected inside, reproducing itself at the back of the space thanks to mirrors which have sought their partner on the outside. But we are the only ones who can be this pair, who look at each other and recognise ourselves in such an undefined place. What we thought was a small shop, we discover on entering is something which has reinvented itself as an illusion of a high building.
The mirrors dictate all the rules on the inside as well as offer a blueprint for the building work. Thus circular stainless steel frames contain the mirrors, hold the red glass screens, mark out the showroom space and create a layout, which the metal staircase uses to become enveloped in the sheeted panels and climb up to the first floor.