(Dis)Unified Perspective

What they see is the symbols "Sun" and "Moon" breaking down simultaneously in an overlapping visual field. The effect isn't discordant. In truth, there is a sort of new harmony, though it does contain twice the visual information of either perspective on its own. The surprise for viewers often comes from seeing their initial perspective as abstract or even inscrutable, but then suddenly apprehending the Sun and the Moon from the other perspectives. What looked complex actually becomes very simple with just a few steps. Then, returning to the unified perspective, one cannot 'unsee' the two symbols that are now fragmented and interspersed with one another.

Changing our physical position is often the easiest change we can make in ourselves. It is highly accessible, and doesn't require tools, guides, or substances. I think that, in regards to psychology, we are learning that the mind and the body have no hard borders. A physical transformation is a psychological transformation. Usually, these changes are small and without much consequence. With this piece, I am asking whether we can use artwork to facilitate these changes and amplify their effect.

This is actually not true: there are examples of contour rivalry in three-dimensional ceramics that combine animals, people, and faces along shared contours. In fact, I presented a paper at the 2025 SUNY New Paltz Undergraduate Art History Symposium that includes examples of three-dimensional contour rivalry as part of an investigation of the "swing effect," a possible mechanism in the use of these artworks by their original creators. In fact, my attempts at utilizing these effects in my own art owe everything to ancient cultures like Chavín, who certainly understood their visual systems with great clarity. It is my work that is primitive; the Chavín people had mastered it.

The textures very much evolved from those in my two-dimensional works. I often devote a large amount of time to the preparation of my surfaces, building layers of color and texture. I want the surface quality to reflect depth and deference to what I see as a sort of divinity in the human internal experience. For these works, which often explore matters of consciousness and spirituality, it is important to me that the foundation supports the content, almost like a temple should lend deference to wisdom.

The imagery itself shifts between the moon and the sun as the viewer changes their perspective. Dead on, the images are merged into a sort of hybrid diagram of day and night. This is a simple metaphor for duality and the unexpected complexity that arises from it. I deliberately chose easily accessible imagery so that the effect of changing perspective would be easily accessible to any viewer. I did not want to derail the visual experience with some of the more esoteric imagery that I've explored in my other works, like emanationism or the tarot.

I see it as a prototype that can possibly become a tool. What if instead of the Sun and Moon, one perspective showed you a trauma, and the other adaptation in response to that trauma? Or, an addiction, and the consequences of that addiction on a loved one? I think though, that art is often most powerful when it is authentic in its expression but not necessarily prescriptive to the experience of the viewer.

I also see no reason that the viewer could not also be the artist who renders the perspectives and then sees them unified as a result of the physical reality of this type of artwork. This is something that would need to be explored before trying to use it as a 'therapeutic tool.' It may very well be meaningful to the creator but just a 'neat trick' to the uninvolved spectator.