REFLECTIONS IN MOTION: FROM DANIEL ROZIN'S MECHANICAL MIRRORS TO SPIEGEL IM SPIEGEL

I’ve been a little obsessed with Daniel Rozin lately. You know, the artist who builds those hypnotic mechanical mirrors from bits of wood, metal discs, even brushes... anything but actual mirrors. His work flips the script on reflection: instead of passively bouncing back your image, it recreates it using hundreds of moving parts. It’s eerie, playful and deeply satisfying to watch.

In this video, he goes behind the scenes of how he builds these mirrors. Spoiler alert: it involves a lot of servo motors, custom PCBs, clever coding and just enough chaos to keep things interesting.

Watching that video while working on my own motored mirror project, which I’ve named Spiegel im Spiegel, felt like seeing into a parallel universe. Different materials, different context, but the same core fascination: can a machine really see you? And what does it mean when a mirror has agency?

Daniel Rozin: The Puppetmaster of Pixels

Rozin’s pieces aren’t mirrors in the traditional sense. Instead, they respond to your presence in real time using a webcam and a matrix of mechanical “pixels.” Each tile or element tilts, rotates or flips to create variations in light and shadow, collectively forming your image.

What I love about Rozin’s approach is that it’s not just about technology. It’s about materiality. The warm grain of wood, the shimmer of metal, the softness of brushes; these surfaces all feel different. They remind you that what you’re looking at isn’t a trick of the eye. It’s a living, moving sculpture.

My Mirror: Spiegel im Spiegel

So here’s where I come in. Spiegel im Spiegel is my own mechanical mirror project. Unlike Rozin’s wooden matrix, mine uses mirrored or reflective surfaces, probably more in the polished metal or acrylic realm. Each piece is motorised, responding to a camera feed much like Rozin’s mirrors do.

The name is a nod to Arvo Pärt’s hauntingly simple composition, a piece that loops and reflects itself in a way that’s deceptively still. My mirror does something similar: it moves gently, silently, echoing back the world in fragments and motion. It’s not about perfect reflection. It’s about presence.

Lessons I’m Stealing (Ahem, Learning) from Rozin

1. Start small, scale later - Rozin prototypes with 5×5 or 8×8 grids before building out massive mirrors. I’m doing the same, one module at a time.

2. Don’t fight the materialWood flexes. Metal gleams. Mirrors scratch. Whatever you use, lean into its quirks. Rozin picks materials for their personalities. I’m learning to do the same.

3. Lag is real - Getting motors to respond in real time to a camera feed isn’t as smooth as TikTok makes it look. Rozin smooths motion using software, and I’m currently wrestling with similar issues: jittery motors, power dips, and the occasional existential crisis.

4. A mirror is never just a mirror - Rozin’s work forces you to think: Who’s looking? Who’s being looked at? My piece wants to do that too, to ask if you’re watching yourself, or if something else is watching you.

   
   

Where This Is All Going

Honestly, Spiegel im Spiegel still feels a bit like a sketch. It’s part kinetic sculpture, part code experiment, part philosophy class gone rogue. But watching Rozin’s process, seeing his mix of meticulous engineering and poetic intent, has reminded me to embrace that weird in-between.

I’m not trying to copy Rozin (impossible), but I am responding to him. My mirror is colder, maybe more digital in spirit. But it still breathes. It still sees. And hopefully, when it’s done, it’ll give you that same uncanny feeling of seeing yourself, but not quite.

Stay tuned. The motors are still humming.

And if my mirror blinks first… well, don’t be alarmed. It just means it knows you’re there.