The works of Elnaz Javani turn from being feminine to anti-masculine. This is not because of an extreme effort on her part to reflect the patriarchal space in which she has been brought up (or may still be living). She is neither taking photographs, nor making films. Her work does not actually deal with picture at all. It is her ‘manner’ that she frames, although such framing lacks a framework. Seemingly, she is sulking because of something which not only irritates her, but makes her nag. Using sponge and string and cloth, she recreates a rough skin while pushing the skin towards devastating conditions; she burns it, tears it and boldly stitches it up. Some blue and red strings are fixed under a delicate layer of cloth to resemble the vessels and bring more pain to the whole experience of looking at these piles of fabric. She has not injured her very own skin to represent the images in a gallery, and I would have not wished that. But she has taken refuge in ‘isolation’ (based on the artist statement) minding her own sewing and moaning. The works are acts of revenge and catharsis, by means of what is available to her: The man is dead, or gone for ever, and the girl finally has the chance to take his clothes, his second skin, and ‘sew’ whatever word or letter she thinks of on it and cut out any piece she wants to. She probably considers this chance as an aperture in her misfortune.
