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In order to get her hair straight and tidy, a young girl acts out the same ritual everyday. Yet, the more she remembers her wavy hair, the less she feels she exists: change has become a kind of magic.
A growing young girl has to act out the same ritual every day for her hair to be straight and tidy: her mother irons her glossy black hair. As she kneels down in the centre of a baroque space, her expressionless face withholds internalized images. The more she remembers her wavy hair, the less she feels she exists. Change has for her has become a kind of magic. She reads the striking image of her “straight hair” as a philosophical text. Which myth is she carrying out through the authority the iron has on her hair? From the theatrical feast of change to the representative poetry of the straight hair, from the paranoia of affectation to the practical critique of a formed rather than natural beauty, hereafter the figure has completed the theoretical framework of its own spectacle.