winter portrait Painting

My girls….are made from the work of photographers in fashion shows and editorials, from fashion houses and magazines, from the “notion” about the contemporary woman, from both feminism and anti-feminism and finally from my own existentialism. And now in these frames of reality, there occurs a story with endless narrative gaps. A rolling flow that comes back to the beginning, a sweet melancholic rupture with the unknown past. Animals, flowers, basic accessory, the ice skate, the apple…eyes looking at you so cold. A byzantine hand is touching with tenderness a symbol of unclarified intentions, in a no real space, without a geographical identity. Place without time and home.