As a manufacturer of prosthetic legs, Christina Reitzel was said as an apprentice to treat her craft for the art of professionals.
But like there are many ways to lose your eyes, such as cancer and falls. On a broom attacking the wrong part of the brow – Reitzel wants to show that there are many ways to get it.
On a damp afternoon in Portland, Oregon, a man in his 30s recently lost his eyes to a BB gun and left her office with a smile. His eyes matched the green beanie of his forest. But to his left, a glittering vortex of gold swirled in the students.
Leitzel, also known on Tiktok and Instagram, also known as “Christina Oculara,” creates what she calls “fun eyes.” Her designs include diamond slits of students and beloved cats painted in the form of sunflowers. She met as strange demands as they were moved by. A man arrives with a box of ashes, hoping to his late wife, “see everything he did.” Why are women decorated with earrings not iris earrings?
It turned out to be her favorite, Leitzel said. The resulting tiktok was so popular that it felt compelled to ophthalmologists to post warnings about actual eye stabs.
Social media has helped transform Leitzel practice into a mecca for the one-eyed community. Perhaps she suggests that blending is for the comfort of those who have been fully witnessed, not those who are often not. Some people like to see the difference – and then start a conversation.
“We just want to make our patients happy,” Leitzel said. “At the end of the day, they have to feel satisfied with themselves.”
It wasn't always that easy. Her profession, Ocularistry, requires at least five years of training in how to properly design, manufacture and maintain prostheses. Leitzel hears from a colleague who is worried that her “fun” eyes confuse medical equipment with props and outfits. A few years ago, her professional association denounced her for one of her designs. (It had something to do with the cartoon penis.)
In case of regret, Leitzel requires new patients to receive a standard prosthesis first. After that, she will create something fun for $500 if they want. She and her friend and patient, Rachel Yi raise money to cover the costs through a nonprofit called The Fun Eye Fund.
Reitzel had no idea what he was looking at until a classmate from the Philadelphia School of Art ran out and handed it over to her. She was surprised that it wasn't a glass orb like in the movie, but it was perfectly hand-drawn. Classmates sent Reitzel around the corner and with her eyes.
There she learned the art of making eyes. A method of casting mold with an organic putty called alginate. A way to carefully layer light and dark pigments to create an illusion of expansion.
The red thread chains embedded in the resin give the appearance of the vein. To reach within the eyes of stimulation at the true level of life, Reitzel asks questions. Are there any recreational substances? (“It's Portland after all,” she said.
She also hears stories of accidents and operations. For some patients, she carries a mirror inside the fitting and knows that the sight of the raw socket is unbearable.
In 2021, Leitzel met Yi, who had lost his eyes to cancer as an infant. Yee was 31 years old and always wanted a student with gold and sparkling eyes. However, the ophthalmologist refused her and told her that it wasn't what they did. Reitzel didn't do it.
Yee was the first time she remembered that she was happy with her new prosthesis. But she initially wore it only among friends. She continued to wear realistic prosthetic legs instead.
When she later saw a hateful comment about her eyes on Tiktok, she realized that hiding would make no sense. “It's human nature to find differences in people's faces,” Yee said. “If they were going to see, I wanted to see something from them.”
Today, she has dozens of fun designs by Leitzel, and has a realistic eye on rare occasions, such as renewing her driver's license. “It depends on my mood and my clothes,” Yee said. Jet black for gyms. For her wedding, pearly white with gold and gold underneath Swarovski crystals and protective acrylic layers.
Not all of Leitzel's experiments are pan-out. An attempt to embed insects – bees, scorpions – brought the mass crushed, but the latter surprised her when it glowed under a black light.
Leitzel's latest tracking was the effect of snow ashes, including glitter dancing with diluted glycerin. It wasn't working as she wanted it to. “Liquid is not an object,” she said, scrutinizing the semi-transparent plastic between her fingers. “At least until I understand that.”
