“Brown Eyes” presents an exaggerated, oversized brown eye, rendered like an unmediated cross-section, with thick, murky, almost sludge-like liquid seeping across its surface. This is not transparent tear fluid, but a viscous material residue. Meanwhile, a middle-aged male figure holds a flashlight, as if inspecting or attempting to “read” the eye—but his presence feels absurd, like an intruder who enters a field that does not belong to him.
Here, the directional logic of vision is inverted: the eye is not an object to be read, but a subject that looks back. The viewer encounters this eye not as something to decode, but as something that casts its own gaze. The man in the scene occupies the same destabilized position as we do. He believes he is illuminating the object—but he is already swallowed by the logic of that object. “Brown Eyes” is not a portrait but an experiment on how subjectivity can be reversed: when the system of seeing consumes the subject who thought he was operating it.