Paula Kommoss on the series
I don’t need a cloak to become invisible
by Cordula Ditz
Cordula Ditz’s newest research publication, I don’t need a cloak to become invisible, brings together over four hundred images selected from the online selling platform eBay. Nearly all are selfies taken by women or photographs of women, who offer what they wear for sale while disguising their faces. The artist transfers images gleaned from online listings from across Germany and the United States into printed matter in form of an artist book.
In its pages, Ditz assembles the found images into collages, that in layout and size come close to that of glossy fashion magazines. The compositions range from the size of a smartphone screen to an entire page. Views of the same clothes from the front, side and back are displayed alongside one another – referencing the way in which a potential buyer may first have encountered the various items for sale, ordered by a swiping tool. By drawing attention to these images in toto, removed from their original context, Ditz’s project approaches a case study of female visibility online. Flicking through the book, a production quirk compresses its illustrated pages, revealing only white pages that are almost blank save for small black captions – the names of the women’s eBay profiles. Usernames like osterhasie, powerpaddy2000, leather poet71327 create a layer of information, offering insights into a seller’s socio-economic background and online identity that precedes their image. It embodies the first choice of individuation, and sets a base of identity that goes beyond depiction.
In the vast space of online selling platforms, on first glance these women become invisible, part of a mass movement playing into the economics
of selling, image politics and gender roles. With their faces disguised, the viewer’s gaze naturally moves to the bodies captured by the seller’s camera. The posture and poses of the women portrayed often echo traditional body language and body norms. One leg is placed over the other, an arm rests on the hip with a lightly twisted torso, many choose a now-ubiquitous tilted stance, one leg standing and the other leaning.
This popular contrapose was also identified by artist Marianne Wex. In her visual survey, Let’s take back our space: “Female” and “Male” Body Language as a Result of Patriarchal Structures (1979), Wex gathered around 2,500 to 3,000 images of the body language of men and women, as seen in the streets of Hamburg, and in television and commercials, which she then categorized according to a kind of body language topology. Most of the conscious posing is influenced by the omnipresence of media imagery: Wex’s project reveals how our body language is a direct reference to the power relations at stake in our everyday lives – the power relations of gender.1 Photographing the women in the street puts forward the status-quo in black and white – women waiting at the bus stop, sitting on a park bench or in a room with other people. Once placed next to each other, the restrictive and one-dimensional body language of crossed legs, folded arms and a general tightness of the body become visible. Only when women are amongst other women does their body language relax; they are in not consciously chosen positions with wider stances and loose arms.
In contrast, the reality that Ditz brings together is one of digital culture. Through the means of the artist book, one is immersed in the private reality of selling online – already used goods are offered up on its pages, bringing together only a small excerpt of the seemingly never-ending image flow prevalent on online selling platforms. Here, the creation of an identity has become deeply saturated by the media aesthetic. Nonetheless, a similar dynamic of body language is at play as in Wex’s study. With the intention to highlight the clothes in a promotional way, most of the poses chosen by the women reinforce the patriarchal stereotypes of body language. In this way, the codes documented by Marianne Wex are still present, the main perpetrator and receiver is still male – there is no breaking down of these frameworks. By extension, all of these images are in one sense aimed at the male gaze – yet hold it at a distance.
Alongside professional photos of weddings, portraits or themed photo-shoots, a great volume of the photographs depicted here are selfies.
As Mary McGill writes in her essay on the female gaze and selfie culture, “Rather than viewing [selfies] as a missed opportunity to flout convention, it is perhaps more productive to consider how this apparent conformity speaks to the power and complicated pleasures of women’s relationship to images of the feminine, including images of themselves”.2 Indeed, it might be said that the women gathered together by Ditz are aware of the constructed nature of feminine imagery, and the object-hood of the female body. In turn, they appropriate its protocols and act from a position of power, using tools once-aimed at the male gaze to their mercantile advantage. Coded poses and constructions of femininity are here created for the female or nonbinary gaze of potential buyers.
Ditz’s artist book extends this phenomenon further, using images in which the faces of the women are disguised to disrupt the power dynamic of the gaze. The methods by which this is achieved are similar but specific, and range from scribbled-over paint in an assortment of colors, to emojis, flowers and the use of blurring tools to render faces unrecognizable. Here, the quickening of anonymity becomes visible. Besides their own faces, in rare cases other people in the photos are crossed out in black ink. In one image, a woman posed in front of the Eiffel Tower covers her face with a pink bow and another person with a big heart.
In this way, the time taken not only to pose but also to edit these images renders the level of engagement, computer and internet skills as well as intent comprehensible to the viewer. The decisions driving image-selection range from hyper-intentional to random, rendering the women the independent authors of their own making – tracing the inheritance of the invisible. Furthermore, the scribbling out or choice of Emoji can be read as depictions of various attitudes and emotions towards each woman’s own body. With the self removed, then, the act of disguising one’s face counteracts the urge to become famous or recognizable – an inversion of the creation of a desirable online identity or influencer model. In most of the selected images, the backgrounds remain untouched or edited by the users, giving a view into an individual’s social context and private lives – staged in scenes from changing rooms to bedrooms and driveways. The spectator is invited into the immediate realities of the women – their homes, weddings or even fetishes are shared. At the same time, some women even create more extraordinary surroundings, to show off their items and their bodies in a more attractive light. A dress is presented in the front seat of an expensive car, a decorated staircase and a glass of champagne are turned into the backdrop for a wedding dress, or furniture or props are used to support a specific fantasy.
The title, I don’t need a cloak to become invisible is taken from a scene in the first Harry Potter book. Whilst roaming the corridors of Hogwarts late at night – thanks to a coat that makes him invisible – Harry Potter discovers a miraculous mirror. Gazing into the depths of the Mirror of Erised, as it is known, its glass surface makes visible what you most desire. By the mirror’s own special charms, one may only see their own longing – and yet the headmaster Dumbledore, who suddenly appears, seems to know all those portrayed desires, stating: “I don’t need a cloak to become invisible.”3
Even though the women shown by Ditz disguise their faces, in some images their desires seem to become visible through staged imagery and representative scenography. The women often use mediatized and gendered conventions to portray publicly available versions of themselves.
Ditz’s survey attests to a paradox: through the act of anonymization, an individual’s desires and attitudes become more visible. In this way, I don’t need a cloak to become invisible offers a counterimage of women online, who utilize the act of quickened anonymity as a reappropriation of the self.
Paula Kommoss
1 Marianne Wex, „Weibliche“ und „männliche“ Körpersprache als Folge patriarchalischer Machtverhältnisse, Hamburg 1980.
2 Mary McGill, ‘How the Light Gets In: Notes on the female gaze and selfie culture’, MAI: Feminism & Visual Culture, published 1 May 2018, https://maifeminism.com/how-the-light-gets-in-notes-on-the-female-gaze-and-selfie-culture/ accessed 22 July 2022.
3 J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, London 1997, ch. The Mirror of Erised.
published in
Spector Books
2022
I DON’T NEED A CLOAK TO BECOME INVISIBLE
The exhibition I DON'T NEED A CLOAK TO BECOME INVISIBLE is a multi-layered reflection of identity, visibility, desire, and the commodification of self-presentation. Accompanied by an artist's book published by Spector, the exhibition brings together visual art, sculptural elements, sound, and performative experiences to create a multisensory environment. It interrogates the ways in which objects, images, and gestures construct social values and shape personal identity, particularly in the digital age.
Upon entering the exhibition, visitors were immersed in an environment that immediately challenged their perceptions of reality and self-reflection. A wall of distorted mirror panels reflected the visitors' images back to them in a surreal, fragmented manner reminiscent of a funhouse. Mounted on these mirrors were large photographic prints taken from the accompanying artist's book, inviting viewers to see themselves not only in their reflections, but also intertwined with the images. This interplay blurred the boundaries between observer and observed, reinforcing themes of mediated self-representation and the paradoxes of anonymity and visibility.
At the heart of the exhibition is an artist's book containing over 400 images collected over five years from the online plat- form eBay. These photographs, curated from an archive of thousands, each depict women posing to sell clothing. In nearly all the images, the women have obscured their faces with emojis, digital blurring, or scribbled markings. The process of collecting, curating, and narrowing this vast archive revealed recurring motifs of objectification, self-presentation, and the contradictions inherent in the construction of identity in digital spaces. While ostensibly erasing their identities, these women inadvertently reveal intimate aspects of their lives through their gestures, their surroundings, and the choices they make in staging their images.
The photographs reveal a wide range of approaches to self-representation. While some images mimic the visual language of fashion photography, others reveal a dissonance between aspiration and execution. Women of various ages strike poses, some graceful and confident, others awkward or stiff, revealing discomfort with the conventions they are attempting to replicate. The absence of faces shifts the viewer's attention to bodies and environments. In some photographs, women stand in meticulously arranged interiors where every object seems staged to project control and sophistication. Others reveal more chaotic or intimate settings: messy bedrooms with unmade beds, cluttered hallways, or even showers. Some photographs feel almost surreal. These contrasts highlight the contradictions of self-presentation in digital spaces, where the aspirational and the mundane often coexist.
The photographs come from a variety of contexts. Some are clearly intentional, created specifically to showcase an item for sale. Others appear to be repurposed personal photographs, borrowed from weddings, proms, family gatherings, or beauty pageants. In these, the inclusion of other people-partners, relatives, or friends-creates additional layers of meaning. In one example, a girl in a bright pink prom dress is held tightly by two hands entering the frame, the grip almost violent in its intensity.
The settings range from chaotic and intimate to meticulously staged and unreal. One woman poses in her bathroom, standing in a shower stall, while another occupies a pristine interior, every detail arranged like a still life. In one particularly striking image, a bride in a voluminous white wedding dress stands on a manicured lawn, her face erased and replaced with the pattern of a tree behind her. The surreal effect recalls the dreamlike sensibility of Magritte, transforming what could have been a trivia photograph into something haunting and enigmatic. This diversity of origin and context underscores the complex interplay between visibility and invisibility, the public and the private.
The absence of faces in these photographs directs the viewer's gaze towards bodies, gestures, and environments. Some poses clearly reference the visual language of fashion photography, while others betray a discomfort with the conventions they attempt to emulate. The methods of obscuring faces vary widely, adding layers of emotional and narrative complexity to the images. Emojis, with their playful yet generic symbolism, contrast sharply with aggressive scribbles that suggest frustration or anger. In one image, a woman has repeatedly crossed out her partner's face in a wedding photo, leaving a fragmented and haunting trace of erased intimacy. In another photograph, a woman poses in front of a wall of family portraits, obscuring not only her own face but also the faces in the images behind her, transforming the act of concealment into a layered metaphor for erasure, self-protection, and absence.
Some images are so ambiguous that it becomes difficult to discern what is being sold - clothes, shoes, or perhaps even identity itself. These decisions invite questions: Why use such personal, revealing images to sell clothes when a simple photo of the item on a hanger would suffice? What compels these women to reveal so much while concealing their identities?
This interplay between visibility and concealment is at the heart of the exhibition, reflecting a tension deeply rooted in the history of portraiture. Marianne Wex's LET'S TAKE BACK OUR SPACE (1977) systematically examined body language as a reflection of social power structures, revealing how gendered expectations shape self-presentation. Cindy Sherman's staged self-portraits similarly deconstructed notions of identity, using costume and pose to reveal the constructed nature of the self. In I DON'T NEED A CLOAK TO BECOME INVISIBLE, these ideas are recontextualized in the digital age, where platforms like eBay transform self-presentation into both a personal and commercial act.
The exhibition also invites reflection on the dynamics of the gaze: how the female gaze might disrupt the dominance of the male gaze. John Berger's assertion in WAYS OF SEEING that "every image embodies a way of seeing" resonates here, as the photographs complicate the viewer's relationship to both the subject and the act of seeing itself. The female subjects in the archive create their own images, choosing how to present themselves, yet they remain subject to the gaze of the viewer, creating a complex interplay between agency, desire, and objectification.
The title of the exhibition, I DON'T NEED A CLOAK TO BECOME INVISIBLE, refers to the Mirror of Erised in the first Harry Potter book. This magical mirror reveals a person's deepest desires, reflecting not their true selves but their unspoken longings. Many are captivated by the mirror's illusions, wasting their lives chasing unattainable fantasies or becoming consumed by what they see. Dumbledore's remark, "I don't need a cloak to become invisible," underscores a central paradox: by hiding parts of ourselves, we often reveal truths that are otherwise invisible. This idea resonates throughout the exhibition, where photographs, sculptures, and mirrors explore the fragility of identity and the desires that drive self-presentation.
The exhibition also included a sound work, THE INVISIBILITY CLOAK, which invited visitors to lie down on the carpet and participate in a guided meditation. This meditative piece began with breathing exercises to relax the body and mind before taking participants on an imaginative journey. They were asked to envision a mirror so large that it obscured their own reflection, and to don a black cloak that made them invisible. This sound work invited visitors to contemplate the relationship between invisibility, identity and freedom, offering a moment of introspection within the immersive environment.
This interplay between revelation and concealment extends to the sculptural works in the exhibition, particularly a series of animatronic sculptures of fake Hermès Birkin bags. The Birkin, an icon of unattainable luxury, contrasts sharply with the demo- cratic vastness of eBay. Often compared to gold as an investment, the Birkin embodies aspirational desire and exclusivity. In the exhibition, however, these bags are transformed into uncanny objects that disrupt their associations with power and status.
A black Birkin bag contained a motion-activated hand with polished nails that slowly emerged from its depths, ghostly and unsettling. A pink Birkin bag contained a similar animatronic mechanism, while a blue reptile leather Birkin revealed animated digital eyes that tracked the viewer's movements, turning the act of looking back on itself. The only closed bag, a yellow Birkin Cargo, emitted loud screams and erratic movements, startling visitors and disrupting the polished aesthetic of the space. These sculptures reframed the Birkin bag as a site of tension between desire, absurdity, and excess, undermining its mythic status as a luxury object.
A curtain titled UNTITLED (DUSTY PINK PARTY SATIN) added another layer of theatricality to the exhibition. Its shimmering texture evoked opulence, while its name revealed its association with cheap, mass-produced party dresses, complicating its symbolic resonance. Curtains, as seen in the work of filmmakers such as David Lynch, often symbolize portals to hidden or surreal realities. Here, the curtain's placement near the mirrors and sculptures reinforced themes of concealment, transformation, and mystery, inviting viewers to reflect on what lies behind the veils of societal expectations and commodified identity.
Adding a playful yet melancholy touch, a heart-shaped foil balloon titled UNTITLED (TRUST) floated gently through the space. Over the course of the exhibition, the balloon slowly deflated, its gradual collapse serving as a quiet metaphor for the imperma- nence of desire and the fragility of aspiration.
Through its layered curation, I DON'T NEED A CLOAK TO BECOME INVISIBLE interrogates how identity, desire, and commod- ification intersect in contemporary culture. Bridging the history of photographic portraiture with the dynamics of digital platforms, the exhibition forces viewers to consider the invisible forces that shape self-presentation. In a world where visibility and anonymity collide, it challenges us to consider how much we reveal, often inadvertently, when we seek to remain unseen.
More than a critique of the commodification of identity, the exhibition invites us to think deeply about the fragile structures we build to define ourselves. Whether it's the digital masks we wear, the objects we covet, or the mirrors we confront, these tools of self-presentation reveal the tensions between aspiration and authenticity, performance and truth. The interplay of sound, sculp- ture, and imagery within the space evokes a sense of both playfulness and unease, compelling us to confront not only how we are seen, but also how we choose to see ourselves.
Ultimately, I DON'T NEED A CLOAK TO BECOME INVISIBLE speaks to the universality of the human longing for connection, recognition, and agency-and the paradoxes inherent in the ways we pursue these desires. It offers a space for reflection and trans- formation, encouraging visitors to reconsider the narratives they construct about themselves and others. As the mirrors fragment and distort, the sculptures unsettle, and the meditation invites stillness, the exhibition reminds us that identity is not static, but a constantly shifting construct shaped by forces both internal and external.