When I first came upon this page I couldn't help feel a little sad for the way that the single figure had clasped his mismatched socks about him, in a kind of Lacanian transfer of love for the mother into the possiblities of socks. At first I moved the socks around, enjoying their colours and textures, but I found the denuded figure so terribly lonely and exposed, so I started to assemble a woman built of socks to fill in the terrible empty space, the absence that invited a presence. I wonder how many other people respond in this way? Does it say something about a)socks b)emptiness c)absence d)mothers?
www.lacan.com
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