The Land of the Dolls is where we belong. But I want to grow up. There are a million things I want to do. People to meet, worlds to explore. I’ve always wanted to dance. I do love you, but I can’t stay in the Land of the dolls forever.

wo mysterious bodies in the forest in Mexico. They live in a cave. Nobody knows their names or where they come from. Seems they‘ve met a very long time ago in the forest, so they have some arms with them. Some residents living nearby said a lot of people saw two ghosts wandering in the forest.

A vision of us vividly echoing in the anterior chamber. Brief glances on the run. Mirroring movements through the loupe. Vitreous bodies as frequent travellers. A look through my eyes.

Body parts as Petri dishes of unspoiled expression. Microscopic changes in us seemingly enlarged. Patiently observing them growing on us. Moonmilk dripping in our shadows, slowly regaining physical form. Impulsively melting together with us into new utopian desires.

Through the translucent, under the veil. Constant longing and filtered emotion. Memories of touch and pressure. Friction of skin on skin. Abstract recollections of a future embrace.

In this portrayal of artist Regina Demina, Mastrandréas aims to ”talk about the violence that the woman’s body has integrated. To reappropriate violence in a deliberate way to overcome it.”.