She’s ephemeral. Delicate. Her heavy-lidded eyes are seductive, or maybe sleepy. Coy. She is at once inviting and unattainable.
These are Audrey Kawasaki’s girls –and they are girls, with their slim, boyish frames and just-budding breasts. Lying entwined in Sapphic embraces or staring at (through?) the viewer, Kawasaki’s girls ooze sensuality.
“It’s all the same girl,” Kawasaki once said: “It’s one person.” Countless renderings of the same nymphet (oh Humbert, is that you?); demanding your attention with her gaze whilst simultaneously fading, impossibly, into the ether.
Dreamy and doe-eyed, languid and enigmatic, Kawasaki’s girls are sweet erotica for the Virgin Suicides set.
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