Some of reality’s wounds ask only to sit near Anja Niemi’s heroins in a melancholic need to share the sorrow of time passed or to find in their relic masks hidden life. In a satin-smooth form, eroticism becomes a mise en abyme. She achieves this through the early 20th century Italian avant-garde actress Eleonora Duse, who felt that she existed only in front of others.
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