Alice is a self-portrait done through another character. It reflects a certain moment in my life and the state of mind I was in at the time, based on the notes in my diary: “They say that I need to be in empty space. With empty hands. Every time I touch an object, there are two ways of thinking - how can I destroy it and how can it destroy me? Depending on the fragility of the moment, even the most functional object looks like (absurdity) a weapon or like a threat. Like the very thin line between cure and torture.”
Alice finds herself in a perfectly sterile world, so clean because it used to be dirty. All traces are erased. Alice looks at you because she wants you to look at her. More than look, she wants you to see. The imaginary scar is like a window, a tiny fraction on the surface of glossy skin, which breaks everything apart. The only thing that matters. It opens the door but not outside, the door in.