"I long, as does every human being, to be at home wherever I find myself." - Maya Angelou

The deer occupies a unique space in my imagination—he’s elusive, gentle, and alert—on the edge of the forest, half-seen, half-gone. His liminality makes him a powerful metaphor for otherness: a state of being present but not fully accepted, visible but not fully seen. 

He exists in mythologies and ecosystems across the globe. From the white stag of Celtic lore to the sacred deer of Shinto shrines in Japan, from Native American spirit guides to the reindeer of the Arctic, from high art to kitsch, he’s a shared symbol. In choosing him, I choose an animal that transcends borders, continents, and cultures.

His ironic duality as both respected and hunted, mirrors the experience of many who live as “other” in society—admired for their uniqueness, yet targeted or marginalized for the same reason. Society both romanticizes difference, while also fearing and exploiting it.

In becoming him, I succumb to my own human instinct, the powerful allure of belonging. Embodying him, I seek acceptance. My aim, not to pretend to be someone else—but to become something else, fully conscious of the fact that he allows me to embody “otherness,” without claiming any specific human identity. 

The common ritual of posing for a picture becomes a paradox: am I hiding, or revealing? It gives me license to explore the porous boundary between self and other, human and animal, real and imagined, and invites—but resists—decoding. I want viewers to linger in this ambiguity, at least for a moment, and consider the invisible lines we draw between each other. 

As a bi-coastal, Judeo-Christian, dual citizen—I feel that an act of deception is not necessarily unethical, when intended with ironic sincerity: to build trust and belonging in a fractured world. 

-Mitch Kern, July 1, 2025