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In the first frame, her beauty seduces us: she’s offering herself up in that first frame, a glamorous sunbather on the Riviera, remote and beautiful. But she softens, both in her expression and in her flesh. In the central frame, the glam girl has melted away, her perfect mask dissolved a little now, until in our last glimpse of her, she has broken up into nothingness, consumed by the encroaching blackness, her face dissolving and her left arm writhing in the agony of death. —Nancy Brokaw, referring to Frank Rodick's The vagrant coordinates of a solitary mind (above), in her article "A Ruthless Voyeurism," May 2009. |
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