Install shot of Portrait of Mme E.G. (text, archive pillow, chalk brick)

Portrait of Mme E.G.

Poor Eva is covered with flowers1 – or, this is how they found her. Encased by them all and cut at the stem, for a garland meant for his grave, the petals, fallen one to the other, are woven, in. Out now and unfinished, here she lies. It seems that she had fallen into a recline, as they had to the floor – and still now, poppies and long purples line her lingered frame. A crease has folded white, her gown clutched taut and under itself, drawn up to here, the small of her back and pulled between her legs, thighs fixed firm and waxen and the swell of her stomach, still. Heavy. Bent dead to her weight is the mattress. The secateurs left lay heavy in her lap, an elbow bent around, a sharp-lined shadow – blue – at her waist, stops where her side meets the bed’s, the linen once more clean. A stain dried hard to the white of her gown, like his brush-stroke shadows on her turned to dirt, discursively. Two circles once wetted down to her breast are now a milky brown and brittle. Would flake and pull if picked at, scrubbed, a leak now long dried up. There, in her room on the third, with her arm astride the drape of the bed that hangs soft and always at her side, she ended her short confinement. And how that arm just hangs, its incline down, to the right, though tilted up a crick where it meets the curve of her pillow, the pillow that holds her head, limp – as in his painting. An unfair portrayal, she had thought and much the same, a slackened wrist, her elbow bare, seemingly cold and outwardly boneless, her hand a half-way clutch, no more than then and now no longer, capable of wielding a brush. A peony is cast right to the edge of her frame – seemingly tumbled and out of grasp, though whose I could not say. Had it escaped her own? Discarded and cut from the floral arrangement, the half-done garland meant for another, his death now six days passed? And the window’s sun washes her face and colours it a little, her eyes unshifting, open. An impression of warmth, it passes, she lays once again stuck still and sallow, a front of a plaster doll, not quite as before when he wiped her face for forty times, soft soaped and painted over – but oh, what a picture she makes. Her head bowed up, her mouth left wide, left opened up unfinished – left agape. Lays on her lips a breath caught short and stilted. Her legs unbent, uncovered, her skin turned white below her knee, and grey where once was red. Red and soft, squeezed oval, tight in her bloated leg a clot caught short of her lung and catching her breath. Stopped part-way in her calf; it stopped her there – choked and the size of a grape. Left is a vase of fresh-cut flowers, violet, stalks a green and petals yet in bloom, and a glass of water, just a quarter full, bedside and beside her head - someone will have to empty it, now.

1 Mme Auguste Manet to Berthe Morisot, 1883, in The Correspondence of BERTHE MORISOT, ed. Kathleen Adler and Tamar Garb (London: Camden Press Ltd, 1957), p.132.

DAY-PIECE

[ At the centre back of the room, almost, just left; a chair – back, no arms.

A glass of water sits beside its leg, just left, - filled not quite to rim, a half

an inch left clean – on ground. A tumbler, short, a little wide, thin rimmed,

(crystal), as yet untouched.

(They) sit upright on the chair, facing forward. Back not quite touching the

chair’s own. Sit, feet together, knees close, not quite touching, an inch

between, forward, unmoving, at rest. Look down, gaze directed at lap, the

script, held in both hands. Pause.

Shift gaze upward, out, resting eyes forward for a moment. Back down

now, returning to paper.

Adjust the glasses lightly on the bridge of (the(ir)) nose, right hand lifting

from page, to gently hold between thumb and fore finger the upper and

lower rim of the right eye’s lens. Lifting from the bridge to just above,

resting now near the corners of (the(ir)) eyes. Lower hand back to page,

straighten paper and grasp lightly on bottom right hand edge. Rest.

Right index finger, from paper, lifts, thumb pushing paper upon itself, up

on sheet below, as if to turn the page. Stop short, lift thumb, paper falling

back in place, replacing thumb back to position, right hand bottom corner.

Look up again, forward, straight, a second. Return gaze to paper.

Begin reading: ]

“The stage, set sparse.

She sits, at almost centre, left, in a low, comfortable chair. Perhaps velvet. To her left

a table, bedside in size, though a little taller. A reach from the chair. Upon the table,

on the back left corner, a vase of fresh cut flowers – violet - sits, stems trimmed; their

vase transparent, crystal.

Curtains, hung, only here, cover only this set, most the (bare) stage lays unhidden.

Drawn open to either side of the set (not stage) upon start.

Dimly lit in entirety, a lamp hung from ceiling, reaching a few inches, just, above her

head, for her to view.”

[ Shift slightly, back curving a little, beginning to graze the back of the

chair. ]

“She wears glasses, pink. Delicate with thin, metal framing. Simply dressed; a skirt

(to knee), a pullover.

She sits, feet together, knees close, not quite touching, an inch between, forward,

unmoving, at rest. Arms uncrossed, each hand on lap, left on left, right on right, at

rest.

Looks ahead, straight, her gaze soft, unfocused – though sure.

Adjusts the glasses lightly on the bridge of her nose, her right hand gently holding

between thumb and fore finger the upper and lower rim of the right eye’s lens. Lifts

from the bridge – where the glasses have slipped slightly – to just above, resting now

near the corners of her eyes.

Lowers her hand down to her side, rests. Pauses. Rests.

[ Cross legs, right over left, right foot at lift off ground, facing forward.

(They) shift in seat, very slightly. ]

Looks, slow. Head turns slightly, away from the vase. Stops. Returns to original

position, forward.

She takes off the glasses, left hand; folds in lap, both. Pauses. Then places them beside

her on the table, lifting them in left hand, up, to the left, laying them down close, on

the front right hand corner. Crosses legs, uncrosses; right over left and back again.

Shifts, very slightly.

Head turns, very slightly, in the same direction as before, when she wore the glasses.

Stops. Returns to original position.

Shifts in seat, very slightly.

[ Shift, slightly.]

Moves hand upward to the left, as if to take the glasses. Stops short. Head turns

slightly, toward hand, glasses, to the left, then back again. Drops hand into lap. Stops,

again.

Hand up, again, to the left, reaching further than the last, past glasses to the flowers.

She lifts the vase from table. Brings to lap. Inhales. Legs, open slightly, their gap here

widens slightly, a little, to hold. Rests, vase in lap, lightly pressed between legs - held

in both hands.

[ Turn page with (the(ir)) left hand, grasping the right hand bottom

corner and lifting it over the top left until it lays flat, behind the next. ]

She shifts slightly; the vase’s water shifts, slightly.

Takes a hand from the vase, left. Steadies with the other. The vase’s water shifts,

slightly. Left arm lifts, again, her hand, again, taking the glasses from table, holding

them close to her chest. Takes right hand now from the vase, steady still, just, between

only legs. Legs tauten, clutch tight the vase; hands now gone.

The vase’s water shifts, slightly.

Right hand grasps one glass’s arm, the other; left. Right over left they unfold.

She puts on the glasses, pink, hands resting a second each side of her face, at the edge

of each lens before dropping to lap, slow, hands laying on lap once again, left on left,

and right on right. Rests.

Stops. Looks, slow. Head turns slightly. Stops. Returns to original position, forward,

gaze unfocused, soft –

[ Adjust glasses again, as before.

Uncross legs, right back over left to rest right foot flat on floor again, next to

left. ]

NIGHT-PIECE

[ Red Allen’s solo in Billie Holiday’s 2/18/1937 recording of Sentimental and

Melancholy plays, ahead of reading ]

[ (They) lower the script, hands down, laying it on lap, to rest, then taking hand,

left, from position on the bottom corner of the paper’s edge, lift, to the left, and

down again, reaching for the glass, right hand holding (all the while) the right

hand paper’s edge.

Take hold of glass, lift, back now to right, up, (they) bring to lips a moment. Sip.

Rest, glass a little below mouth, arm bent.

The glass’s water shifts a little.

Then back, to left, lean arm down, placing water down, as before, on ground, to

the left of the chair’s front leg.

The glass’s water shifts, a little.

Return arm up, to lap, placing thumb and forefinger back around the paper, lift,

(the(ir)) gaze directed down, at script again.

Begin reading: ]

she sits, in the chair, vase between legs, clung soft in thighs, stems hidden, water calm,

hands on lap, left on left, and right on right. Here, as before.

Save for the lamp hung from ceiling, - reaching a few inches, just, above her head -

the chord now pulled, now on, well-lit.

[Move hand upward to the left, as if to take the glass. Stop short. Turn

head slightly, toward hand, glass, to the left, then back again. (They) drop

(the(ir)) hand into lap. Stop, again. ]

Behind the glasses frame, she squints, adjusts, her eyes, to light. The glasses glare a

little. She lifts her hand, right, up, to face, to rest above her eyes, on forehead - thumb

touching just the right eye’s lens, palm outstretched, flat – a screen. She shifts,

slightly. Pauses.

She moves her hand back, down to lap, right on right. Squints. Shifts in chair, leans

right, back leaving the chair’s own, tilting to side, she stops.

The vase’s water shifts, right, pauses. She pauses.

Lifts her hands from lap, together, eyes fall to vase, hands grasp, each side its own,

legs widen, their grasp slackens, her hands lift.

In hands on vase’s neck, from shoulders up, the flowers rise, they hide her face, a

second. Then back, hands to right to the front of the chair, down, she places the vase

on the floor.

[ Shift, slightly ]

The vase’s water shifts, slightly.

Her feet now flat on the floor, she stands; weight lifts, up, hands lift up, and to the

side, each hand to side its own. Turns, from front to face the chair, then bends, back

down, a little, hands down a little, she places hands on sides of chair, pulls, forwards,

slightly. Out of the glare of the lamp.

Unbends, stands straight, facing still the chair. Back now, to front, she turns, her feet

together, knees close, not quite touching, an inch between. She sits.

Arms uncrossed, each hand on lap, left on left, right on right, at rest.

Crosses legs, right over left and back again. Rests.

[ Turn page with left hand, grasping the right hand bottom corner and lean it left

until it lays flat, upon the last.]

[ Adjust glasses a little, lifting slight from bridge to brow, with right hand up,

fingers close around the right lens frame, then down, to rest.

With left hand, forward, stretching down, she takes a book from rest on ground, – now

visible, now reachable, the chair pulled forward – the stage, beside the chair to left, in

front she lifts to lap, she reads.

Only to herself, for only a moment, a piece of text on page, of a princess finding her

violet. Then closes the book, left hand on cover, front, shut, left edge to right, left page

to right, together.

Placing it behind her on the table, she lifts in left hand, up, to the left and back, behind

the chair, straining a little, laying it down, on the front right hand corner, at an angle,

slight.

Returns hand to lap, a moment. Pauses.

[ Left hand, forward, lift from page, then down, to lap, to lift a handful grab of

clothing, down, a little. ]

She adjusts her glasses just a little, lifting slight from bridge to brow, with right hand

up, fingers close around the right lens frame, they rest now close to each eye’s corner.

She rests. Pauses. Rests.

Then reaches, back, to the right, both hands clutch for the vase which sits at back aside

the chair, now lifting up, hands on neck, back round to front, to lap, legs a gap an inch

between, pressed, hands hold glass each side, the stems between.

Rests.

Stops. Looks, slow. Head turns slightly. Stops. Returns to original position, forward,

gaze unfocused, soft

[ Uncross legs, as before. ]

I find the chair in a garden, front of a house on a road nearby. It sits lilac next to

the almost red of its close-by brick and I take it for my own. Sits close at my desk,

forward. The seat needs upholstering, a certain dip in age frayed fabric, stained -

and I mean to do it sometime.

A nail holds on the edge of the chair, through fabric, cuts. Cuts through my

trousers, it leaves a hole. Pierces wool and dents my skin it pushes in a u.

I sit now at an angle; legs curve the right of the left of the chair, crossed and

avoiding its point.

I haven’t upholstered the chair.

Can’t always feel it, I wear a coat. Or sit there left and feel it pull, I shift and rip

anew. I nick my skin am pressed once more.

And often I find that The Princess and her Pea are quite incredibly

unsatisfying.

glitter / Glitter

On the theory of an individual glitter

Introduction

She told him she liked the idea of slowness in general. So

many things go so fast, she said. We need time to lose interest

in things. (Don Delillo, Point Omega)

I have, in front of me, a (singular) 2mm glitter. It is hexagonal in shape,

regular, so capable of tessellation. Or, I should say, cut from a sheet of

reflective material in a pattern of regular hexagons, are created individual

glitters capable of tessellation. I hesitate to call the (singular, 2mm) glitter a

‘piece’ of glitter, as that would indicate its existing as part of a larger (and

re-constructible) whole. Though glitter is created from a sheet of reflective

material (a whole), it only comes into existence when this whole (a sheet of

reflective material) is itself destroyed (cut into the individual glitters). Let

me illustrate:

Here, we have a cake.

Here, we have a piece of cake.

Both, quite simply, are cake. Before it was cut; after it was cut. In both

instances the objects are, and will remain, cake. The piece of cake, though

initially belonging to the larger whole cake, is still cake. It became cake when

the ingredients1 were combined and baked, and it will remain cake until it

has gone (whether that be by consumption or by decomposition). Cake, once

made, is always cake, and its pieces, though pieces, are pieces of cake.

Glitter, on the other hand, is not such a piece of cake to define (in relation to

the notion of whole and part, that is).

1 in this case; 225g sultanas, 100g currants, 50g mixed peel, juice of 1 lemon, 50 ml brandy, 50

ml orange juice, 225g soft butter, 225g light muscovado sugar, 4 eggs, 225g self-raising flour,

100g glace cherries, rinsed in hot water, dried and quartered, grated rind of 2 lemons, 2 tsp

mixed spice, (for the topping) 450g best quality marzipan, 2tbsp apricot jam, 1 egg beaten, (to

glaze))

1. Glitter (noun): an inadequate definition of

The Oxford Dictionary defines glitter (noun) in two different ways:

1 [IN SINGULAR] A bright, shimmering reflected light: the blue glitter of

the sea

1.1 An expression of an emotion in a person’s eyes:

the scathing glitter in his eyes

2 [MASS NOUN] Tiny pieces of sparkling material used for decoration:

sneakers trimmed with sequins and glitter

The definition in singular refers only to an intangible notion of glitter. The

‘scathing glitter in his eyes’ is, of course, not actual/ physical personified-as-

disdainful glitter2. Only as defined in multiple (mass noun) does glitter

become a physical object. More accurately, the glitter becomes content of a

larger object. Described as ‘tiny pieces’, the implication is that the individual

glitters lose their specific identity to become Glitter (At) Large. Or, within

the context of the whole (Glitter), an individual ‘piece’ becomes only partial-

content; a partial-glitter3, if you will.

The second definition is one which seems to appear on most webpages

claiming to explain (or demystify) the existence of glitter and its history4. It

reads:

Glitter is an assortment of tiny reflective particles.

2 Though, wouldn’t that make for an interesting thing? 3 This is based on Husserl’s ‘On Theory of Wholes and Parts’, but we’ll return to that shortly 4 The likelihood is this definition originated on Wikipedia and has come to be collective

script for the online community. But let’s not mention the internet, that’s a whole (pun

intended) different matter

In this case, it makes sense to break the definition in two (for ease of

comprehension if nothing else.)

[Glitter is] An assortment of small, flat, reflective particles.

First, let’s consider specifically the use of the word assortment. To do so,

we’ll employ another dictionary definition (of assortment):

A miscellaneous collection of things [or people]

The perception of glitter belonging to a ‘miscellaneous’ collection is

problematic. Even if we were to accept the view that glitter only truly exists

in multiple5, and, accordingly, accepted the description of the individual

glitters as ‘tiny pieces’, the ‘pieces’ are in no way miscellaneous. Glitter

particles are typically very similar and specific (as a result of an incredibly

precise production process6). In no way could they be satisfactorily

described as belonging to any form of assortment.

As for the second part (and this we can rightfully call a part) of the definition,

as with the first definition and the first part of the second, glitter exists only

in multiple and, again, one may assume that an individual particle is not, or

should not be, called glitter. Instead it is, again, a partial-glitter.

This concept of partial content is one of Husserl’s7 and, before further

complicating things, it may be instructive to employ Husserl’s distinction

between independent and dependent contents (in relation to glitter).

Husserl distinguishes between the two by noting the variation as the ‘ability

or inability-to-be-separately-presented’. In other words, where a part of a

thing can be viewed and (crucially) understood apart from its larger whole,

it is independent (a piece), and where this separation is impossible (where

the part cannot be understood apart from the whole), it is dependent (a

moment).

5 which, for further reference, we will not 6 Something we will return to in the following chapter 7 To be found in Husserl’s Investigation, ‘On The Theory of Wholes and Parts’

Both (glitter) definitions allude to the existence of a larger glitter ‘whole’ and

(one, more specifically) the ‘pieces’ of which it consists. Rarely presented

discretely8, it is unsurprising that glitter is defined collectively. However it

is not too involved to recognise glitter, within Husserl’s terms, as

independent content. It would not be rash to argue, then, that rather than an

‘attribute’ which could not be considered self-existent9, an individual glitter

is in itself a ‘thing-like’ object; capable of being assessed on an individual

basis10 11. So, let’s do that.

2. A brief introduction to glitter as a thing

2.1. Description of an individual glitter

A glitter is one of many glitters12, a tiny particle which reflects light at

different angles, causing its surface to sparkle or shimmer. A glitter is

typically (commercially) between 0.002 square inches and 025 square inches,

typically a square or hexagon, cut uniformly from flat multi-layered sheets

of reflective material. A typical square or hexagonal glitter is so specific

because it has been cut from a detailed specification from the reflective film

(which itself is produced by combining plastic, colouring, and reflective

material13 into large rolls of foil/ plastic) into shapes that can entirely fill a

two-dimensional surface. This is done to minimise waste.

8 Glitter is widely used in crafts, candle crafts, cosmetics, fabric printing, glass art, paint

decoration, calendars, toys, surfaces, fake filigree flowers, lanterns, festive supplies, kitchen

utensils, ceramic surface, jewellery, furniture, paint 9 Husserl, ‘On the Theory of Wholes and Parts’, Chapter One: The Difference Between

Independent and Non-Independent Objects, Section 6, p445 10 This is interesting, of course, in relation to the earlier discussion of glitter as partial content

(that which lacks self-sufficiency). 11 Interesting, also, in relation to the definitions, is the fact that the etymology of the word

glitter lies in the word shine: i.e. it has absolutely, resolutely nothing to do with piece/ part/

whole/ singular/ assortment 12 12 Over 10,000,000 pounds (4,500,000 kg) of glitter was purchased between the years of 1989

and 2009 alone. 13 examples of which are aluminium, titanium dioxide, iron oxide, and bismuth oxychloride

2.2. Variation and characterization of glitter

For reasons pertaining to space limitation, only some of the many ways in

which one glitter may vary from another glitter will here be very briefly

outlined:

a. Colour14.

b. Size15.

c. Shape16.

14 A glitter may exist in many colours; one manufacturer offers as many as 44 colours. This

does not mean, however, that one would find 44 different colours if they were to examine an

individual glitter. Each particle has typically one (or, at the very least, a far smaller number

of) colours. Manufacturers will thoroughly mix a very many different glitter particles of

appropriate shades (and ratios) in order to achieve this colour spectrum. Put simply, the

colour of the glitter particles seen en masse may not, in fact, be the colour of any of the

individual particles as viewed alone. 15 Several companies offer glitter in 10 or more sizes, starting from 0.002” (50 microns) all the

way up to 0.250” (6250 microns). Hexagonal glitter particles are measured from one apex to

the opposite apex, and square glitter particles are measured as the length of a side. 16 As established, a glitter is typically hexagonal (most common), square (next most

common), or rectangular. Glitter particles are often so small that it is not intended that an

observer will be able to discern a shape; only a flash of reflected light. Glitter particles that

are cut into shapes like stars or crescent moons are much larger and it is intended that a

viewer will recognize the shape. In some products there will be a mixture of many small

glitter particles and far fewer larger glitter particles that are in distinctive shapes.

d. Thickness17.

e. Specific gravity18.

f. Cutting machine anomalies19

17 Glitter particles usually have at least three or more distinct layers (cut from the layered

film). Even metallic glitter particles that consist of a single layer of aluminum will usually be

coated on each side with a protective polymer layer. The world’s largest glitter

manufacturer, Meadowbrook Inventions offer glitter in at least 8 different thicknesses

ranging from 15 microns all the way up to 175 microns. [Glitter particles often tend to stack

like pancakes, so it is important, when attempting to ascertain a glitter’s individual

thickness, that you are sure that you are only measuring the thickness of a single glitter

particle.] 18 Because individual particles typically consist of several different layers of varying

thickness of either metal (aluminum) and plastic, or different layers of plastic, they vary in

specific gravity. Meadowbrook Inventions offers glitter particles in 7 different specific

gravities ranging from 1.2 to 2.5. 19 If two different companies purchase their rolls of glitter film from the same manufacturer

and then separately cut this film into individual glitter particles, their glitter particles should

be chemically identical. However, due to differences in cutting machines it may still be

possible to differentiate particles originating from the two sources. There have been several

cases where glitter particles exhibited shapes that were less than perfect hexagons, and less

than perfect squares (often have a tab that sticks up as with an index card).

3. A glitter in the desert (would be lost)

3.1 (You can make me) Whole Again

The word ‘piece’ is defined as ‘a portion of an object or material, produced

by cutting, tearing or breaking the whole’. So, conceivably, the glitter

‘whole’ is the reflective film the glitter is (or the glitters are) cut from. But, as

a table is not a table until assembled, or to take Perec’s example, a jigsaw is

not a jigsaw until pieced together20, the film is little more than the physical

material of glitter (a moment, not a piece, certainly not a whole). Whilst the

glitter remains a part of the film, the film itself was never a glitter.

Then, it would seem pertinent, still, to ask; what is the whole? However,

perhaps it is not so simple. In the preamble to his novel, Life: A User’s Manual,

Georges Perec speaks of the art of the jigsaw puzzle, noting:

‘…the element’s existence does not precede the existence of the

whole, it comes neither before nor after it, for the parts do not

determine the pattern, but the pattern determines the parts…’

Unlike Perec’s puzzle, the existence of our element (glitter) perhaps does

precede the existence of the whole. Whilst the pattern (the cutting machine

specificities) determines the parts, the parts are not intended (like a jigsaw)

to placed back together into a re-pieced-together whole. Whilst we have

dismissed the depiction of glitter as part of an assortment, in some ways, it

is more truthful than the notion of glitter existing as a whole – in the sense

of it being one unified object – though both depictions are seriously lacking.

20 ‘The pieces are readable, take on a sense, only when assembled: in isolation, a puzzle piece

means nothing – just an impossible question, an opaque challenge. But as soon as you have

succeeded… the piece disappears, ceases to exist as a piece.’), glitter is not glitter until the

machine cuts the film into the individual ‘tiny reflective particles’ Georges Perec, Life: A

User’s Manual, Preamble.

In their paper, The taxonomy of Part-Whole relations, Morton E. Winston,

Roger Chaffin and Douglas Herrmann consider the problems inherent in

Husserl’s depiction of the whole, suggesting that ‘the classification of part-

whole relationships must also take account of the uses of “part” with respect

to collections, masses, activities and areas’21. Most relevant to our discussion

of glitter are Portion/ Mass relations, which are described as homeomerous:

‘having parts which are similar to each other and to the wholes which they

comprise’ and Component/ Member relations where ‘components and

members, in contrast, may be dissimilar to each other and different from the

wholes which they comprise.’22

This clarification helps us somewhat in placing glitter within the discussion

of whole-part relations, however it does so still imperfectly. In this instance,

the best comparative may be salt. Whilst, like a grain (of salt), a glitter (of

glitter) exists as a (very) small portion of a larger glitter (pl.) in which, in

some ways, the glitters are homeomerous, (we have already established how

specifically similar glitter particles are in the sense of their size/ shape etc.),

it is not entirely accurate. In a number of respects, the properties of an

individual glitter are much different than those of glitter on masse.

21 Winston, M. E., Chaffin, R. and Herrmann, D, A Taxonomy of Part-Whole Relations, page

420 22 As above, page 423

* Glitter as trace

In a paper called Glitter as Forensic Evidence, Bob Blackledge assesses the

possible utility of individual glitter particles as associative forensic

evidence23. The paper provides a comprehensive list of properties of the ideal

trace evidence, and assesses glitter’s own properties against this. There are

a few specifically relevant to the notion of an individual glitter existing as a

somewhat distinct (and distinctive) thing:

a. Nearly invisible.

b. High probability of transfer and retention.

c. Easily collected, separated, and concentrated

(and, most importantly)

d. Highly individualistic.

One example, taken from the paper, is shown here:

Missouri homicide

Notice one corner tends to be rounded and an adjacent corner tends to have a

protrusion

23 much of which, it should be noted, the information concerning to the characterisation of

glitter was sourced from

As mentioned previously, there have been several cases where glitter

particles exhibited shapes that were less than perfect hexagons, and less than

perfect squares (they often have a tab that sticks up as with an index card).

The utility (and, more importantly to this essay, the existence) of this

specificity can be seen in this case study.

3.2 One is the loneliest number

Of course, the treatment of glitter as forensic evidence is relatively unique in

viewing glitters solely individually, and it would be unwise to end this

discussion without acknowledging its arguable futility; glitter is typically

viewed in multiple. Above that, it is intended to be viewed in multiple. Its

purpose (if glitter itself could be said to have a purpose) lies in

ornamentation and decoration; in fun; in being a shining, shimmering mass

of reflection and pretty, childish (feminine?24), almost-magic. It is a purpose

only fulfilled by an excessive (though, in this case, appropriate) quantity of

many glitter particles. We know that a glitter is typically so small that it is

not intended that an observer will be able to discern a shape; only one flash

of reflected light amongst many others. Is its independence dependent on

size, however25? We’ve already established that an individual glitter can

serve its own purpose (in Glitter as Trace) whether intended to or not (what

does intention matter, anyway). Whilst some things could be said to be lost

in viewing glitter individually (the “magic” quality of the mass of reflected

light), the same can be said in multiple (the specific and distinctive details of

the individual glitter). A glitter alone may be different than glitters in

multiple, but one (a glitter) is no more valid than the other (glitter Pl.).26

24 We could talk about glitter and femininity – but honestly, isn’t that a little dull. If you are

interested, however, read the chapter entitled ‘Never Cleaning Up’ from Michele White’s

Producing Women: The Internet, Traditional Femininity, Queerness, and Creativity 25 Of course, one could just use a microscope 26 Apologies for this slight deviation on theme. As mentioned, it seemed necessary, if

irritatingly dull, to acknowledge these things.

3.3 (You can make me) Whole Again (Again)

Perhaps more pertinent than assigning the value or validity of a glitter alone

versus glitter plural is, again, is assigning quite where glitter fits into the

part-whole relationship. One passage (found in the footnotes of an earlier

section of this essay discussing the variation and characterization of glitter)

seems particularly relevant:

Glitter may exist in many colours…however…each particle has

typically one (or, at the very least, a far smaller number of) colour(s).

… the colour of the glitter particles seen en masse may not, in fact,

be the colour of any of the individual particles as viewed alone.

Unlike a portion of a mass and similar to a member of a collection, each

particle, though similar, is distinct, whilst still being dissimilar to a member

in that the glitter particles do not possess a ‘particular structural

arrangement in relation to each other and to their wholes’. In this sense,

glitter exists in some unknown space between collection/ member and

portion/ mass. It can be ascertained, at least, that glitter does not exist within

a defined, unified whole but it would seem that glitter simply does not sit

comfortably within the existing conversation around part-whole relations.

Fulfilling both similar and distinct roles individually and in collaboration,

glitter is hard to pin down27.Perhaps the Oxford Dictionary were correct to

define glitter dually. However, their definitions are imperfect, at least in

regards to this essay. So, let’s amend:

Glitter (IN SINGULAR): A small, flat, reflective particle.

Glitter (MASS NOUN): A mass of small, flat, reflective particles.

(Mass may not be the perfect word, but it’s the best we currently have. It’s

certainly better than assortment.)

27 Both theoretically and literally, in fact. Isn’t it funny; something so specifically and carefully

produced is so difficult to keep in order.