What is it about photographers and mirrors?

We know about selfies; we know about self-portraits. With these the camera is out of sight; it's the agent not the object. In the mirror shot the camera is front and center. The big, glass eye surveys the big, glass eye; agent and object merge.

I've used a camera on tripod or stool to take a photograph of itself, but that's different; I've taken myself out of the picture. Son Robert and I routinely have camera duels, each photographing the other. That's different, too.

The photographer's camera becomes an extension of the photographer. It's not the camera's big, glass eye that looks out on the world, it's my big, glass eye. The camera doesn't take the photograph, I do. The better I get at photograph the more the camera disappears; it's just the photographer and the photographed.

The mirror photograph is a moment of self-awareness. I see myself with this thing of metal, glass, and plastic in front of my face (or in front of my navel if it's the twin lens reflex I'm shooting with) and it looks odd. Who or what is this staring out at me from the world behind the mirror? I am fascinated by what I see.

Then the moment passes and it's just me taking a picture of me.

And God smiles at my absurdity.

And I see God.