There seems to be a lot of conflict in Tamara Muller’s works. I suppose it would be more accurate to say there are a lot of conflicting elements in her work; beautifully rendered skin and faces on enlarged and misshapen heads, frail bodied girls that emanate a sense of power and intensity, soft and translucent colours that speak of innocence used to render scenes of slightly demented sexuality.
The conflict continues outside the canvas, I find myself alternating between a state of wrought fascination and being made to feel as though I’ve become an unwilling voyeur. It’s an impressive trick that Muller pulls off painting after painting.
