I bought this mannequin in September 2015. It was stored in a box because the previous owner returned it to the warehouse where I got it from, fearing that after his death his children might think he had been some kind of pervert for keeping such a piece in his antiques and bric-a-brac collection. At the time, I thought it was funny. Now, after eight months of sharing my weekend office space with this fake person and staging impromptu photo shoots with it, I can understand his concerns.
Mannequins, because they mimic us and force us, in a way, to look at our humanity and time, have an inherent creepiness to them, “they convey idealized images of ourselves, what we aspire to rather than what we actually are.” In elaborate window vignettes, they make space for dreaming, creating inspiring perfect worlds frozen in time.As they themselves remain.
Modern mannequins tend to be more of an abstract stylized shape, often faceless but none the less mysterious and fascinating when perhaps channeling Princess Langwidere, they are easily given an expression to go with a mood.
That I, sometimes, look at the mannequin living in my office and think that I see different expressions is, of course, the result of an over fantasizing mind fueled by one too many fairy tales of inanimate dolls coming to life at night.