"You are left with only the image and its mistake; you can never go back to compare, although the question of how it was made is still present."
What appears to be a painting is actually a photograph. We encounter the wrongness of images, or rather, our appreciation of them. What appear to be two-dimensional painted lines, curves, rectangles, arabesques, planes of color, or abstract geometric shapes with shadows, are in fact carefully arranged three-dimensional objects, brilliantly illuminated and flattened into a single seductive plane by the lens of a camera.
The eye recognizes but cannot fully unravel the distortion; the mind flits between different possibilities. Yet no established reality emerges. How is it that one black circle looks directly at us, while the other lies flat and foreshortened?