It is like she is finally speaking to me and I am able to see what could happen to my insides if I gave myself away to him. Her palette is black, mauve, washed-out blues and greys, like having an old colour television on—the less vibrant options are the ones she chooses. She combines photographs with paint and presents amorphous, lonely, disembodied figures from the back so there is no emotion to connect to, no context around them, the imagery sits on the surface avoids pulling you in or under. I am reassured when I look at them but I am desperately sad.
