For (2004), Mutlu Çerkez made sixteen paintings of messages that women left on his answering machine in response to his phone-dating profile.In transcribing their responses, including all the hesitations, Çerkez opens them up for scrutiny.
For, while we don’t know his actual profile, perhaps we can intuit something of it from the women’s responses.
Or, perhaps their replies are more like depth charges, searching ‘shots in the dark’, revealing nothing.
Either way, (2006) looks like a film-still, encapsulating a narrative within a single frame. Her cracked, grotesquely fluoro-blue face pack is shorthand for that classic female anxiety: the ‘battle against the clock’.
With a shaky nod, she moved her ample frame out of the way for the men to enter her two-bedroom home. Spotting the trashy novel she had been reading before falling asleep on the couch, she rushed over and flipped it upside down, then “Yes,” she breathed out, gasping for air. She couldn’t possibly be having this conversation with the men in green.
” April put a fist into her mouth and struggled to breath. Never did she think she would be asking that question. He had made it all the way through his senior year without incident.
We did the girls a few days ago, and it was pretty standard.
There were some oddities fair enough, but they are as nothing compared to the fucking weirdness that the female perspective of Tinder reveals.
Now, the Tab is openminded about a lot of stuff, but there was some strange stuff around.
KNOWING ME, KNOWING YOU Eerily ubiquitous, internet-and phone-dating services have made society far more self-conscious, drawing our attention to the words we use to frame ourselves and our feelings.
We ponder who we are, who we could be, what we want from a potential other, and how to put it to them.
In creating a dating profile, or responding to one, we describe ourselves in ways contrived to make us attractive—but sometimes reality breaks through.