in high school, a teacher of mine told me that i looked just like
whistler's mistress, (not to be confused with whistler's mother)
the mysterious woman in white in some of his paintings.
i had glasses and frizzy hair and oily skin and no friends at the time,
and the comment at once made me feel oddly embarrased and slightly excited,
as if my furture self had found a way to project herself
into the past and pose for these paintings.
so that's what launched my addiction to finding myself in pieces of fine art.
sort of a where's waldo approach to self esteem.
these two are from my pre raphaelite phase.
yeah, they look like me.
i'm not being vain, i'm being creeped out.
what i do like about them are the greek mythologies associated with them.
they always seemed to echo whatever was going on in my life at the time i came across them.
waterhouse's pandora.
bougueruea's young girl defending herself against cupid.