Barbie’s more interesting cousin

It’s all très Biblical, somehow. I confess to not being completely au fait with ya actual Old Testament but I’m fairly sure Idols are discussed beneath curled lips.

Listening to a piece on the radio about self-portraiture recently, it struck the neurons quite forcibly that in light of the disappearance of a Deity from cultural life, we’ve embraced Self as God: each of us at the centre of our universe demanding everyone else to pay homage … or an entrance fee.

Obviously it’s a phase: it’ll pass. But until then, we’re going to have to endure self-dissections that peel back intellect, dreams, imaginings, compassion usw such as to expose the plastic beneath.

Is this a Good? Is this to be recommended to children for whom the world probably isn’t a thing of wonder as it was for tots a while back. Our culture has chosen to sexualize children inflicting on them self-consciousness. Is that a Good, a kindness?

The palate of solipsistic narcissism from which we colour and texture waking hours will doubtless dull quite soon in virtue of its vacuity. Until then, how is courtesy extended when ‘it’s all about me me me’ or how can understanding be flourished when demanding that others ‘listen to us us us’?

What are your thoughts? she quipped rhetorically.

Rembrandt self-portraiture always seems an exploration of Light and Depth and Humanity, those invisible traceries which echo through life. Two Circles, painted in 1665 doesn’t scream Me Me Me: it murmurs Look, Listen, Marvel.