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Cracker Jacks, Mirror Images and Reflections

Buying Cracker Jacks was a luxury when I was a kid. They cost 15 cents and my parents would only give me twenty five on Saturdays so I could go to the movies and buy myself a little something with the change. I only bought Cracker Jacks on very few occasions. I had to have more than a quarter in my pocket for the movies and an irresistible urge to taste the precious candied popcorn and peanuts and find the surprise prize inside.

The small Kraft market, at the corner of Calle Ocho and Santa Isabel, next to the Stones' trade school, across the street from where I lived frequently ran out of Cracker Jacks. Very little of the bounty of products I wished to buy in the store were within my limited spending reach. But for Cracker Jacks I didn't mind committing my meager treasury. I awaited my trips to the store with great anticipation. Any extra nickel or dime I was somehow able to get my hands on was usually slated for taffy, a Spur Cola and Jamaican bon, umbrella shaped hard candy we called rompemuelas, or any craving that my tiny budget allowed. Until Cracker Jacks came along. If I had enough in my pocket, it was Cracker Jacks for me, even if it meant full treasury depletion.

When I didn't have any money, it would be enough to visit the small store just for the delight of browsing the variety of merchandise that caught my attention. I visited that convenience type store so much that I had a sharp and vast knowledge of everything sold there. The presence or absence of Cracker Jacks on the shelf section behind the cash register, I would notice immediately.

One copiously clouded day the frequent rains of the week had made being stuck at home very boring, and I no longer wanted to spend time drawing or making toys, like the little double-winged aircraft I would fashion out of boxes of Canal Zone Matches and their strong matchsticks, held together with Ducco glue. When the torrential mid afternoon rain cleared up, I took the opportunity to head for the market with 20 cents I had somehow managed to get. Their intended target, if found in their usual place, the coveted Cracker Jacks and a soda chaser.

There wasn't any TV in those days, and our family couldn't afford to buy my older brother and me many toys. Comic books, which we called cómicas - were a perfect companion to keep myself entertained and avoid the long hours spent alone without friends, especially when it rained. There were always comic books at home, but in their absence, or when I didn't feel like reading any, I would spend my time on art projects or crafts – such as the matchbox airplanes – where I would apply creative solutions that required imagination. The cleared skies had provided a welcomed opportunity to set out to the market with my small change, ending the rain-imposed confinement of the day. Since early morning I had spent the time drawing favorite characters from the comic books I liked the most. Batman, Tarzan, Flash Gordon, Superman and the large collection of Classics offered by the Club House in Viejo Cristobal was good material for drawing or making use of my watercolors.

But the eccentric Plastic Man and his amazing feat of stretching and taking on the form of any kind of object or thing, and going unnoticed, was the most intriguing of the super-heroic powers I dreamed of having. With Plastic Man, I was totally absorbed in fantasy, particularly when he became a mirror. That just blew my mind. I tried to imagine what it felt like to be this strange guy, transformed in the essence of a mirror. I don't remember exactly whether it was as I was reading or drawing something from one of my Plastic Man comic books that I came upon the image of the superhero transformed into a mirror, but I remember wondering about how a cartoon of Plastic Man would be represented visually if he were to take on the form of two mirrors, which when facing each other in a certain way would create the illusion of an infinitely repeated image, as seen in those crazy mirrors at fairs. From a very young age, I have on occasion had similar encounters with these mirrors in normal circumstances. I'm sure people in general have had similar experiences with mirrors. When they happen to me, I remain transfixed in complete fascination, contemplating the line of my infinitely repeated image.

With this notion of the two mirrors and Plastic Man in mind, I took to the mercadito Kraft to see if they had restocked their supply of Cracker Jacks. I was impatient to find out, so as soon as I crossed the street I ran towards the store. The place had two wide entrances left open all day, one on each side of the corner of the building. Between them was the cash register area. If there was no one in front of the counter to obstruct my view, I could see from a distance the goods on the shelves behind the register before reaching the entrance at Calle Ocho. Before I get there, I noticed a woman standing in front of the register, blocking my view as she paid, so I bulleted in and hit the brakes with my trusty ole' worn out Keds, but not before smacking right into her, giving her quite a fright. I quickly apologized, and immediately glanced at the shelves. And there they were, standing up in a neat little row, four boxes of Cracker Jacks. And one of them was for me. The lady paid, and as she left, still catching my breath before the counter, I greeted the man at the register, and said: "Give me a Cracker Jacks please. And charge me for an Orange Crush. I'll go back there and get it."

The first thing I would do with Cracker Jacks was open the box immediately to see if the prize was at the top. If it wasn't, and had slipped deep down to the bottom, I would have to consume most of the content to get to the surprise. I liked eating Cracker Jacks slowly, to prolong savoring the tasty snack as I chewed. But I also wanted to know as soon as possible what the prize was. The prizes weren't a big deal, but finding a top, ring, or whistle was a good thing.  What really counted, however, was the element of surprise that came with the Cracker Jack purchase. So I quickly got my Orange Crush and sat on the store's doorstep facing Santa Isabel avenue, eager to get to the prize and enjoy my precious indulgence.

No sign of the prize on top when I opened the box, which wasn't unusual. There was a chance it lay just beneath the surface of the popcorn and you could often get to it just by poking around with your finger. If it was there of course. This time it wasn't, so I decided to go after my Cracker Jacks and soda unhurried.

I was an easily distracted child, a classic daydreamer. Perhaps because of the embarrassment my stuttering caused, I took refuge in the wide and free—and fantastic—realm of the imagination where I was proficient in the art of conversation I was so poor at in reality. Being tranquil and quiet was something I often did, and enjoyed. I don't remember suffering much from boredom as a child when I was alone. My fun was easily drawn from an internal source of entertainment. If I wasn't reading comic books or any other material, or building toys, or drawing and painting, I would imagine anything at all, as I was doing, sitting there enjoying my snack. In the ebb and flow of my thinking, only the noise of traffic and from inside the store and the talking of people made me aware of my physical surroundings.

At one point, my attention fixed on the logo on the Cracker Jack box. It had been of interest many times before, but this time I was particularly attracted to the joy and pride on the emblematic young sailor's face, his right arm raised in proud military salute, faithful mascot at his feet, and scarf and neck of his uniform flapping away in what for sure was a pleasant sea breeze. I felt the impulse to capture in a painting or drawing what I was noticing of the Logo for the first time. As I studied the graphical elements I would need to render the work, I took particular interest in the little Cracker Jack box in the sailor's hand. Because of its tiny size, it would require specially detailed work. As I considered alternatives, I was intrigued by the notion of imagining the image of the logo, in fact of the entire front of the package, rendered on the handheld box, and in that tinier container there would be another figure of the sailor, holding yet another box, and at each new level, the image would be even smaller than the last, and so on and so on, never ending. Suddenly I get the sensation of traveling physically down with every new level I imagined, until at one point it was just too much, and I lost my grip on the fantasy and it let go altogether, and when doing so, have the impression of having entered a void of sorts in which I seemed to be floating and where everything I would think about would vanish rapidly without it mattering to me.

Then for some reason I felt an affinity with the infinitely repeated images of Plastic Man in the facing mirrors I had thought about before going to the store. I felt a direct connection with what I was now experiencing with the Cracker Jack logo. And although I somehow recognized that the difference between the character of the infinitely repeated images of each was only visual, the physical sensation I was experiencing of the endlessness of time and space was identical from both.

Of course at just 6 years of age I didn't reflect about any of this intellectually or with any clear conscious regard, but the sensation of the physical presence of infinite space that I experienced was something I never forgot. From that moment on, almost all of my drawings or paintings had a visual element that represented infinity, in order to feel through the exercise of creating artwork, I guess, what I had experienced internally that day with the logo.

 

Later, from a book that taught how to draw, I learned about the use of the vanishing point to visually represent three-dimensional space. As the manner in which I created my artwork either at school or at home developed and matured, I invariably conceived themes that illustrated or implied infinity, using the vanishing point technique. But it wasn't until 1973, when I was 29 and thinking about leaving the business world to dedicate myself instead to the dubious proposition of becoming a professional artist, that I crossed the threshold to represent artistically the wisdom contained in infinite space. The philosophical themes and deep reflections about the Cosmos and our role in it that I began to personally entertain since have served as a constant source of inspiration for the development of my work.

With the passing of the years, when I had already found my place professionally in the world of art in my country, and the maturity of technique in my work received more recognition, the visual conceptualization of cosmic infinity and space also matured artistically. This accumulation of personal and professional knowledge about the nature and properties of the eternal crystallized my intellectual understanding of the spatial sensation that stimulated my childhood encounter with the Cracker Jack logo.

What I finally came to understand during this long journey is that the reflective idiosyncrasies of the universe and our own, as evidenced by infinity itself, suggest that everything that inhabits the cosmos exists in reflection of itself. The presence of the reflection we see in a mirror, for example, exists in evident variations in our natural world: in the crystallized configuration of some elements, in the fractal patterns of certain vegetation and crystals, in the content of mirages and other similar phenomena that are observed in calm waters or deserts.

That presence of reflection is not limited to the physically obvious. The science of quantum theory investigates not only the possible existence of a universe parallel to ours, but rather many to each one. Within us, particularly in our psychology and human spirituality, the presence of reflection is also evident. Reflective reasoning or reflecting about something or oneself are two ways that the mechanics of reflection are manifested in the wills of our mind and psyche.

Reflection also serves our philosophical inquiries, especially when our relationship with the opposite directs the purposes of our existence. Happiness and sadness, hunger and satiety, doubt and certainty live as reflections of themselves within us. Opposites are the mirror that Truth requires to recognize itself when it contradicts itself. Without opposites there wouldn't be an everything or infinity to perceive. In its quest for the perfect balance between the coming-and-going of its evolution, the universe makes use of opposites. Without them it wouldn't be able to validate its existence ... nor would we be able to validate our own. That's why we can see ourselves reflected in everything we are capable of observing. We would not be aware of opposites if it were not for their symmetrical component, without which we would not be able to reflect and acknowledge our contradictions. Reflection gives meaning to who and what we are. It puts us in direct contact with the nature of opposites and the crucial role they play in helping us identify reality.

The similarities in our contradictions are reinforced by the symmetries which are also essentially present in the universe. When we see our reflection in a mirror, for example, what we really see isn't an identical replica of ourselves, but our identical opposite, that is, an opposite reflection of who we are. If we raise our left arm in front of a mirror, the arm we see raised in the mirror is not our left. From the point of view of our reflected image, it is actually our right arm. Since we are "observing" reality from our side of the mirror, we assume that the arm we are raising is our left arm. But since unconfined to a single center point of view, our reflection really becomes a mirror opposite of who we are. Viewed this way, we can conclude that the right arm of our reflection is actually the left arm of our image and vice versa, depending from which side of the mirror we choose to observe ourselves.

Symmetry is critical for us to be able to observe our reality in such relative terms. The reason why I could relate to the apparent logical incongruity of the repetitiveness of the images in the Plastic Man fantasy and Cracker Jack boxes was because symmetry allowed me to perceive the phenomenon of endless repetition in both opposite directions from the same vantage point. Similarly, in our mental reflections, symmetry helps us recognize our contrarian nature in the "mirror" of our existence. This is not an even symmetry, where the dimensions of the opposites reflected are equally proportionate. A perfect balance in our reflections isn't required to recognize the truth of our actions. Truth can also be reflected asymmetrically and still be recognizable. Asymmetry is reality perceived in a state devoid of harmony, and we are not always in harmony within ourselves. In psychological terms, to be truthful, the realistic reflection of our mental state does not need to be perfectly symmetrical and balanced, as we see our reflection in a normal mirror, for example. When the waters of a pond are not calm, or when the mirror is deformed, our reflection is altered. But is this reflection wrong? The image we see of ourselves in the restless waters of the pond looks unstable in relation to the original image on "this" side. But from "that" side, from the perspective of the altered image, how do we perceive our self?

I certainly don't pretend to know the answers to these questions and the many others I have come upon regarding the nature of mirrored images and reflection and all their physical and psychological implications, but what they suggest to me philosophically opens doors to unlimited inquiry on the subject.

Since I was a child, I have explored in my paintings the sensations of reflection through the use of my fascination with perspective and its relationship with infinity. A few years ago, I discovered that perspective, as represented in the works of M.C. Escher, offered a graphic relationship with space and time which allowed an almost reliable three dimensional visual representation—close but not exact—of infinity and the perception of space. But the infinite I felt went beyond what was depicted by Escher. The multiple perspectives offered by his works converge on a set number of graphically identifiable vanishing points, and due to their specificity, to me, they did not represent or reflect that most authentic definition of the endless state of the universe that I perceived.

Finally in 1987, inspired by the visual virtues of my ribbons that allowed for countless vanishing points for me to play spatially with in my works, I resolved the perceptual limitations in Escher's representations of three dimensional space that bothered me.

As I saw it, the sensation of universal space does not originate at one point, but from all points. The infinite must be comprehensive and universal in its expression of Reality for us to notice it as it deserves, for us to feel its presence in every instant of our existence. This more accurate representation of infinity achieved with the use of the ribbon and what I reconfirmed about human nature with the documentary series, The Brain: Our Universe Within, allowed me in 1988 to adopt the modular work concept as the best visual route to explore my fascination with space and the Cosmos. As a result, the infinity that is represented in my work since then is not defined by any single point. The perception of the depth of space originates from virtually anywhere—which frees the work from the logic of earthly gravity and opens it to multiple visual alternatives. On the canvas, for example, left or right and top or bottom can function as any of its sides. Even the deliberate symmetry of diptychs and multiple paneled works can be "disorganized" without altering the balance of their composition or the aesthetics of the work, allowing free will in its disposition. In short, the work can be contemplated in a myriad of positions. Virtually an entirely new painting, so to speak, can be seen just by repositioning the panels in any way that pleases the observer.

 

What a distance my perception of space has run since my close encounter with it at the Kraft market while eating Cracker Jacks!