The Soul of Amy Sol?
i am not sure i get Amy Sol. technically i cannot argue, precise, stylised to within an inch of its chic chic life, pallets to die for, but her bodies hold nothing for me. They are not flat enough to enjoy the superflat glory of their blatant influence, but they are emotionally matt and flat. There is nothing in the eyes, not even vacancy or the holding of a cadavar stare. Where there should be grace there is stiffness, they have no movement. There is nothing seductive in the pose nor anything adoring in the face. For the future i would prefer to see a ‘floating world’ concentration, in which she already excels.
