Svetlana Prigoditch mentions the vegetable, considering it as a place of memory and magic. The voluptuous enchantment wraps itself around its forms, mysterious, disturbing, highly artificial, demonstrating, to an attentive eye, the trace of an outdated, incorporated, melted nature, as if annexed under layers of black tar. The magic of his works lies in the surprises, not very reassuring yet vital, real and imaginative, in which rose petals, bark, acorns and the artist's hand overlap, losing the border and encroaching on the other and the unknown, hollow , eerie, but filled with the insubstantiality of the material. The Dutch artist neither whispers nor suggests: he firmly affirms his own half of the world, the one in which Mon Baudelaire is not just a shape, nor just a colour, nor just a way of reflecting light (all interesting aspects of his work): Svetlana's Baudelaire is her nostalgic malaise, an indecipherable, deep and obscure smell that her pieces spread without even revealing their colour.

Brooch polymer clay , resin, silk, rose petals, metal pins, perfume essence bottle 10ml