On Saturday afternoon, I took a field trip to one of the many indoor flea markets in Albuquerque. (Aside: what’s up with this “indoor flea market” thing, anyway? Why not call yourself a consignment shop and be done with it?)
Every time I go to this particular store the sections have completely changed. The music never does, though: there’s always corny funk music playing through the ceiling speakers.
As I look back at my photographs now, I realize that I am inexplicably drawn to things that a) have faces, and b) have creepy faces.
Maybe I’ve just been watching too much sci-fi, but the objects in these images seem ready to come to life and declare war on the human race. Since they’re so small, I’m quite positive that they could slip thumbtacks in our shoes while we’re sleeping and we’d never know a thing.
Ignoring reason, I brought these porcelain beauties home with me. They’re sitting on top of the piano, watching me reproachfully with their eye-less faces as I practice. Poor little things. They must be so bored. I just will have to keep a close watch on them for any signs of movement.