Raoul Hausmann_Mechanical Head (The Spirit of Our Times)_1919 1920 Mechanischer Kopf (Der Geist Unserer Zeit) or The Mechanical Head (The Spirit of Our Time) is the only surviving assemblage that Hausmann produced around 1919, 1920. Constructed from a hairdresser’s wig-making dummy, the piece has various measuring devices attached including a ruler, a pocket watch mechanism, a typewriter, some camera segments and a crocodile wallet. This assemblage is made to indicate how contemporary man is becoming a machine. He is controlled and identified by numbers and he is losing his identity to become only a workforce. Centre George Pompidou, Paris
In “Songs of Experience” (6x03) there were quite a few #AriaMoments that were very suspicious to me. First we have Ezra encouraging Aria to WRTIE again for the second consecutive episode. Why are they so strongly referencing Aria’s writing again now? Maybe Aria is “The Writer” as I have said many times before. I would LOVE to read all the “intense journals” of hers and see what secrets are really hiding in there.
Next we see a little bit more of Aria’s photography as she is hanging out at The Brew… There are photos of all kinds of strAnge things…the typewriter, camera, the train, buildings, a photo taken of a building OUTSIDE of a fence…a photo taken of a chair and desk from OUTSIDE the window almost as if she was spying, a photo in a hallway with an “exit” sign, photos of her bedroom. Interestingly, one that seems to zoom in on her “Yellow Wallpaper” which I have previously written a theory about…and one photo that really seemed to resonate with Aria was one in her room of the porcelain doll. Something about all these photos is just odd. These seem more like photos that -A would be taking.
Throughout most of the episode Aria is still eager to find evidence to incriminate Andrew. Was she in some way afraid of what Andrew might reveal? Maybe she should have been. Veronica Hastings did say, “Appearently, when they questioned Andrew he said a few things about you and the other girls…How you all tricked him into helping you?” But, WHO was Andrew MOST mad at? ARIA! Andrew was furious when he yelled at her, “because, I was trying to help YOU.” Did Aria ask for his help? Did she trick him? Andrew did seem to speak very openly and candidly in what seemed to be cryptic -A talk WITH Aria when they were spending all that time together. Remember that one time when Andrew said to Aria, “For such a petite girl, you bring a lot of chaos.”
The funny thing is as soon as Aria finds out that Andrew has actually been released from jail she is suddenly HAPPY to see him, and attempts to plea for his forgiveness and potentially regain his favor.
Also for the second consecutive episode in a row someone has let Aria know just how “smart” she is when Alison says to her, “You’re smart Aria, I would have never thought to look in the button jar.”
One of the final scenes with Aria we see her taking photographs outside through her window in her bedroom. She then turns to the MIRROR and photographs herself which was so eerie. Aria and her mirrors. Pretty Little Liars writer, Norman Buckley posted a photo recently on Twitter of Aria gazing into a mirror with her camera in her hand and this quote: “Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.” –Friedrich Nietzsche. Which may be a clue that Aria has some kind of mental illness. Or that maybe she has allowed herself to become a monster?
After Aria takes her selfie in the mirror she turns to the same doll that seems to stir up some kind of emotion or memory and takes what appears to be an identical photo as we seen her look at earlier. Weird…
SOMETHING is just not right about this little LiAr.
Below I will post links to more theories that could be connected to Aria's strange behavior we seen tonight.
They fill up entire antique shops, all of them touched by hands that lived decades or centuries ago, all of them quietly holding the history of the people who once adored them.
A weathered bronze pocket watch holds a black and white picture of a lovely girl- the first gift a young woman ever gave to her new husband.
An oil painting shows a willow tree overlooking a lake and the silhouette of two people embracing beneath it- the spot they sat together to watch the sunset every evening.
A hat stand holds a faded navy sailor’s cap, worn from salt and wind and sweat- the hat of a man who rescued dozens of fellow soldiers from the dark depths of the ocean.
There are creaky typewriters that have written hundreds of love letters, faded cameras that have captured joy and love and beauty, and rusty pocketknives passed down from father to son for generations.
These old things sit patiently on their shelves, asking for nothing, collecting their blankets of dust, silently carrying the memories of the lives before us.
And how beautiful it is that we can see a past long forgotten simply by looking at them.
Combeferre stumbled around the house. “Are you okay? Do you need anything? How badly are you hurt? Are you missing anything?” he asked repeatedly of everyone he ran across. He had already looked upstairs. Those bastards had taken everything of his. They took his dresses. His typewriter. His camera. His stories.
They had come in right when Combeferre was starting to get together his notes for the meeting. He stood up immediately and tried to get in front of the officers. That was a mistake. One of them seemed to recognize him and laughed. “What are you going to do, Jew?” The pig laughed and cracked him on the side of the head with a baton.
Combeferre yelled back to everyone. “Stop…don’t fight them, let them look for what they want, don’t fight, please…” Although he knew that a lot of people wouldn’t follow his orders. Not many people believed in his brand of non-violence.
Now the police were gone. And Combeferre was wandering from person to person. His head was throbbing and black dots were dancing in his vision. But he couldn’t worry about himself right now. He needed to make sure everyone was okay. He needed to see if his sister was alright. If Enjolras was alright. If everyone was alright. His health be damned, he needed to help his friends, his family. They were all that mattered now.