Staring hard at their own upheld palm is one of the more uncanny things infants do. Mid-play, mid-bath, mid-meal, a baby will come upon her hand as another of the world’s objects to be scrutinized, only this one is attached to her. An adult behaving the same way we’d say was in an altered state, tripping. What could be more familiar than one’s own hand? Lacking this familiarity, babies easily perceive what the rest of us rarely can—that a hand seems to have a life of its own. Those appendages, such trouble for figurative artists, act on our behalf all waking hours without our consciously directing them: turning pages or scrolling, gripping a cup, gesturing while we talk.
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