Bambi Kramer uses art to send pictures from the parallel world she actually lives in: a post-Bosch desolated landscape that mutants form of life starts populating like after a storm. Along this path, her work moves from static representations, some kind of portraits or still life images, to the processual form of rolls: a sort of automatic writing where drawings just flow without break nor borders, like a stream of consciousness of juxtaposed visions, along meters of uninterrupted paper. Original rolls usually never survive, as Bambi Kramer destroy them, by cutting slices that could be sold centimeter by centimeter or recomposed by the artist herself. Wasted parts could find any new representation coming out from the cut itself and the recombinant work of connecting together unmatching elements. It’s a metaphor of an intimate state of being and a more wide crisis in which mixed up mutants, tender losers at the border of a falling society are involved into an unarrestable, auto-reproducing critical and re-generating process.

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