In her gaze, I see colors and lines, dots and drops, lots of puddles and water in which her hand or part of her dress is mirrored. In each of her steps, I see the possibility for a new photo in which a purple detail will cover the green setting, and a refined female hand will touch the edge of the table on which there is (close-up) a glass in which the redness of the Aperol syringe is freezing.
Every detail is a big shot and I feel that it is bigger than the format itself, and that’s how it often happens in life, almost every day so many things don’t fit into any of our imaginary pictures.
At Kristina’s place, everything is in its place, set up, arranged, weighted. Everything is somewhat cinematically accidental, but on purpose, the heroine crosses the street at the exact moment when the old timer turns green and accidentally drives the front wheel into the bar, which splashes the camera that Kristina took out by accident.
I somehow accidentally found myself in her frame and I see myself in her notebooks, on trips, in the park, in a cafe, floating in the water, licking pomegranate ice cream, at an exhibition between two framed drawings.
Her notebooks are her diaries, clips from movies, yesterday today tomorrow, maybe sometime by accident somewhere and she doesn’t remember where. The drawings feature random passers-by, a view from the train towards the sun that casts red on the edge of the sea, a lilac flower with a yellow heart inside, shots from a vintage restaurant, cups and glasses with character of the moment.
The girl is mostly herself, always shiny long black hair and a blur where she smiles contentedly.
I told her she reminded me of Modesty Blaze, even though I don’t remember what she looks like.
I know that she is a heroine in some super comic from the 80s, that she has long hair like a mane and pointy nails. The comic must be black and white, but I remembered red lipstick and green dresses.
He makes a drawing out of a photograph, he makes a film out of a drawing, and I proudly spin it in my imagination and here I am, showing it to my neighbors every night in the summer cinema in my yard.
Come to hang out with us.
