The Stenographer’s Discretion

This piece explores the complex and often contradictory role of the stenographer—a silent observer whose primary function is to create a flawless record, yet who remains a discretionary filter of reality. The central figure is rendered with a painterly, almost classical warmth, but her skin is overlaid with the very text she is tasked to transcribe. Her identity is literally inscribed by the words of others. Her mouth is sealed by a mandala, a symbol of wholeness and the universe, which here represents the silent, sacred trust placed in her. It is both a decorative gag and a mark of inner complexity, signifying the universe of unspoken observations and the immense pressure to remain impartial. She hears everything, but speaks nothing of her own accord. The collage elements drawn from modern magazines—“It’s Work,” “Sale!,” “Oscar-Special”—clash with the timeless quality of her portrait. They represent the trivial, commercialized world she documents, reducing significant and insignificant events alike to mere commodities. The barcode, stamped with the year 1985, suggests that this dynamic is not new; she is a product, a numbered entry in a system that values her function over her humanity. The whimsical birds and folk-art patterns that surround her hint at the vibrant inner life and personal voice that are carefully kept out of the official record. The work is a meditation on the tension between the recorded word and the unrecorded truth, and the silent burden carried by those who are its keepers.