The deceptive corporeality of the female images captured by the artist seems to drown in a thirst to express all the strength of the experiences from the carnal pleasures. The intimate has ceased to be intimate, as if purposely exposed to the public, and the female sensory is self-objectified. Invisible loneliness twists as the red line penetrates inside, even in those moments when there are someone with the heroines. There is no possibility, in part, to see the whole, to penetrate the bends of the body in the thoughts of faceless maidens.
The motif of intimacy in the series is one, but how many variations it gave rise to: from almost poster drawings, like the world of comic books and manga, to almost easel prints, picturesque tides of personality and mood of the remnant.
The exhibition space is constructed as a puzzle game, where each object has its own function and a semantic cloud, and by going a little further and comparing them together the viewer can probably understand how to leave the room (and make a mistake). The capsule of the sincerity of this insomnia is like an office, a receptionist of an artist and a fantastic house of tolerance, lost somewhere in the Asian metropolis.
The author of the text is Katya Mikhatov