ANNA M. ROSE // Vanity Hair

Vanity Hair

The dressing room and the vanity table hold the allure of a supposedly private space, the glamor of the backstage, where the costumes come off, where the skin is exposed, and the myths of confidentiality, intimacy, and femininity are perpetuated. This space is subverted however by the presence of the massive hair-cloaked figure, turned away from the mirror. The volume of its draped hair is amplified, doubled, by the reflection, making it unclear where the form begins and ends. The hair is unbound by the space, confounding the (feminine) boundaries that the tricks and tools of vanity uphold, toying with the myths of uncontrollable hair of the unruly, fearsome female. 

A sort of vanitas, the piece speaks also of time, the swinging foot like a pendulum, marking out the seconds as they pass. We ask whether the figure is being consumed by its drapery, or whether it is simply waiting, impatient, as we are reminded of the muffled tick-tock of time, a count-down to something, the vanity of boredom.