The show is a self-portrait: an autobiography told in décor and decorum, in setting and sexuality, in frivolity and fetishism. It catalogs a lifetime worth of lessons told to the artist by her mother on how to be the perfect wife, an epitome of womanhood that she both embraced and rejected. Rather than rebelling against the stereotype, she appropriates its established aesthetics to reassert her own peculiar vision of femininity: a dollhouse of domestic bliss wherein the rooms are polished immaculate but the walls are smudged with illicit desires. But with everything is in its right place, it is not a household shared but really only the home of one.
Celebratory yet caustic, the exhibition is a display of defined gender roles and the play of the individual imagination to circumvent its restrictions, even if it enjoys the pull of the restraints on its skin.