Summary

Ian Hanson reflects on the significance of mirrors, particularly those in automobiles, as a metaphor for introspection and the passage of time, through a collection of personal photographs and experiences.

Abstract

In "Reflecting on Reflections, Automobile Mirror Edition," Ian Hanson delves into the symbolic meaning of mirrors, drawing parallels between the utility of car mirrors and personal reflection. Inspired by Anne Bonfert's writing prompt, Hanson explores his extensive photo collection to find images of reflections, only to realize that his most profound reflections are not captured in the mirror but in his memories and the experiences that shaped him. He muses on the infrequency of documenting moments with close friends and family, likening it to the often overlooked yet essential nature of car mirrors. Through various anecdotes, including driving in Norway's tunnels, rural Minnesota, and the Bonneville Salt Flats, Hanson contemplates the transient nature of life's journey, the beauty of solitude, and the enigmatic quality of the familiar becoming unfamiliar. He concludes with a nod to another artist, Mark Tulin, who also explored this theme, and invites readers to join Medium for more stories.

Opinions

Hanson values the introspective journey that writing prompts can inspire, emphasizing the importance of using personal experiences to gain self-awareness.
He finds it profound that objects essential for safety, like car mirrors, are seldom the focus of his photography, akin to how close relationships are often taken for granted.
The act of searching for images related to the prompt led Hanson to a deeper understanding of how he documents his life and the importance of the past in shaping his identity.
Hanson appreciates the unique perspective that mirrors provide, showing us what we leave behind, and questions whether it is beneficial to capture more moments in this reflective manner.
He reflects on the irony of the world appearing more beautiful as we drive away from it, suggesting a bittersweet aspect to our travels and experiences.
Hanson expresses a sense of wonder and freedom in his decision to drive into the Bonneville Salt Flats, embracing the unknown and finding beauty in being nowhere.
He acknowledges the role of other artists, like Mark Tulin, in exploring similar themes, and encourages support for artistic endeavors through platforms like Medium.

Self Portrait, the last drive on the way to Nepal. ©Ian Hanson

Reflecting on Reflections, Automobile Mirror Edition

I may always be looking back, but I’m not always seeing.

This post was written in response to Anne Bonfert’s writing prompt, Reflections in the Side View Mirror.

My approach for writing prompts has been to peruse the annals. My rationale is, use what you got. Get introspective, see what you learn about yourself. Ya dig?

Speaking of side mirrors, I knew I’d snagged a pic or two. But where the heck were they?

My interpretation ended up more reflections of myself than what appeared in the mirror.

Mirrors are familiar in modern society. If you drive at all, even more so. Always giving you perspective on the world around and basically behind you. I take them for granted, well at least until yesterday when one was hit by a flying door in a storm. That is not the point.

Seeking out images for this prompt enlightened me.

I found it a bit odd and then profound, that items so necessary for my safety made such a small appearance in my imagery. That’s a lot like the closest friendships. I visit old friends or family, but rarely take pictures together. I guess when you’re comfortable and confident, you trust that it will always be there.

Mirror images were a challenge, my twenty-year-old pic collection not well cataloged. The true definition of a needle in a haystack. I guess organization early on in an endeavor could be useful?

We document the present and hopes for the future but ironically experience them only in the past. The mirror is unique, showing us what we left behind. Should I take more images like this or is it better to let bygones be bygones?

Deep in the underground, it could be day or night. Norway. ©Ian Hanson

Norway is a land of tunnels. Over nine hundred of them. Their landscape of mountains and fjords requires them for local travel. Here I had so much time and space that I was able to pull over and enjoy the tunnel for a bit, alone in the night.

Thinkin’ about thinkin’. Rural Minnesota. ©Ian Hanson

The open road on a calm day. This was one of the last drives I made in Solveig (yeah I used to name my cars) before she was totaled by a driver coming out of a sex shop.

Mornings are for photography then going home. Minnesota. ©Ian Hanson

Got the new car. I’ll be honest, I hadn’t really wanted one. But rural living with projects requiring driving, you need one. In the first six weeks of ownership, I put five thousand miles on this hog. Ever feel that you’re always driving away from, rather than to, the attractive view? How is it that the world always looks better as you’re leaving?

Ah, the college dream. I don’t know what I mean by that. On my way back to campus drove over the Cass Street Bridge and found traffic barred due to an accident. Someone had neglected to use the brake I guess and had pummeled deep into the front of a store. Or bar more likely, every building is a bar in La Crosse. While waiting I took a picture of the mirror, thinking about how we are often surrounded by others, so close, yet never knowing who they are.

“I’m a loner Dottie. A rebel.” Bonneville Salt Flats, Utah. ©Ian Hanson

I swear I tried. Tried to research driving into the flats. I just couldn’t find any good information. So at some point, out of sight of Salt Lake City, when the earth angled smoothly away from the road and the ground appeared solid, I simply peeled off. I picked a line and drove for miles until the sound of the horizon ants disappeared. I was nowhere and it was everything.

Another artist who took on this challenge was Mark Tulin, check out his approach:

Pictures in the Side View Mirror

A photo essay

medium.com

If you would like to read more, and support stories like this, consider joining Medium via this link and follow me.