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You
draw back a curtain in a Turkish diplomat’s dressing-room… Or
accidentally spring a secret panel in Lacan’s workroom… And find:
splayed thighs, hairy cunt, slack happy belly and the grandiloquent
title ‘The Origin of the World’. Fontenoy takes us further. Courbet’s
composition is recreated in the mirror – the photographer reflecting on
‘realist’ art – but of course, there’s a woman behind the painting. She
is laid out here. Texture: a fluffy mound of pubic hair, the dying
flowers, covers on the bed, smooth stocking and elbow-length gloves.
The shadow of her dangling arm falls across her face, a mask that has
slipped. One eye fixes us. Is this how it all begins?
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