Made up of seventy small black-and-white images of unnervingly familiar (and disturbing) filmic characters, as if trapped under a dominant gaze of a male director, Sherman plays the blonde pin-up, the perfect housewife and the secretarial graduate about to take on the big city. At other times she is stranded alone on a wide-open road, or bruised, beaten, emotionally tense and in tears. Although we know Sherman’s works are imaginary constructs, I find they present us with versions of the truth.
