It wasn’t that I was comparing myself to Carita: she was so beautiful that there was no point. Immediately I understood this girl was from another planet, and there was no way I would have anything in common with her: just the sight of her made me feel awkward in my skin. I’d seen pretty girls before, but Carita was something else: high-cheekboned, perfectly proportioned to my sixteen-year-old eyes, ridiculously graceful in her carriage and gestures. This chapter will, in time, be dedicated to the survivors.Īs I walked across the violently striped carpet from the flight of stairs I’d just ascended and up to the candy bar, I found it necessary to tell myself not to stare.Ĭarita was standing to one side of the freezers in which the teeth-breaking choc bombs were stored after we made them out the back. I am glad, now, that Grace Tame has been so determined to show survivors that silence is part of shaming, among other things.
Pretty ghetto hecta trial#
I am proud that the evidence I gave in those trials contributed to keeping a former child and adolescent psychiatrist, Ian Stuart McAlpine, from practicing again after the first trial in 1997 and then to his imprisonment in 2018. Writing the chapter has also required me to think about the continuum of abuse and exploitation, particularly from people in positions of power and authority, that was a constant feature of Carita’s life from when I first met her to her death at 21.įor several decades I have been reticent to speak about what happened to me, to us, at the child and adolescent hospital which no longer exists, although I have given evidence to one inquiry, three criminal trials and one royal commission. The chapter title reflects the gallows humour necessary for living with what even after all this time seems unreal, something which never should have happened.
I completed a draft some time ago but needed to go back and fill it in. Polina Karpova is a pseudonym and her name is actually Polina Polikarpova from Ukraine.Dear Reader, despite what could be seen as the flippant heading, this has been the hardest chapter of my memoir to write. we missed Polina´s better quality photography for this show at the moment. Karpova herself prefers to “hold the mirror” instead of being constantly reflected in it. The author creates her unique visual vocabulary by playing with contemporary fashion photography tricks and clichés and ignoring viewer’s expectations.Īll author’s photographs are autobiographical in a way. Appearance and plastics of her characters are infantile, erotic and extravagant.Ĭompositions created “here and now” are also distinctive in Karpova’s style instead of the artificial environment of studio she prefers interiors of the actual living spaces and city landscapes. She focuses on the local provincial poetics and author’s place in it. Influenced by her father-photographer and mother-stylist, Polina analyses her life experience through photography by creating compositions, which might look plotless at the first glance.īeing both photographer and stylist, Karpova constructs scenes and characters at her hometown - Kharkiv. Polina Polikarpova represents Ukrainian New Sincerity. And then go and come back again, the next time they’re frustrated by the greyness of life or the dullness of shattered dreams. Although Pretty Ghetto is a beautiful utopia, everyone from the Real city will be able to go there.
Whether it’s a toy, sculpture, drawing or a live puppy, they share with them the joy of life. They are like chameleons colored to match the native landscape, praising themselves for being at one with it. Their weakness is bright and extravagant taste for clothes and cheerful, almost useless pastime. Sometimes they want to be an object of desire, but they are not as available as it seems. They read glossy magazines in childhood and imagined themselves their main images. But their residents are younger in soul and body and stay children in their hearts forever. In my city, living blocks became a big and depressing organism that has grown for So I created my own city on the edge of the real city, taking as my point of view all the best I could snap, anything that could help the real city find a harmony. Superficiality dominates everything related to true beauty.
When it wakes, it resumes its rough everyday rhythm and doesn’t care about joy.
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