Greta Spielrein

Greta Spielrein is a creature savage mountains. Her delicate beauty recalls an androgynous lad, when mischievous playfulness and demonic charm flicker in her elf-like gaze. The most extraordinary thing in the mundane world is naturalness. From our dusty cities, we long for virgin springs and meadow dew. When this lost purity is embodied in the essence of a young woman, the wicked world is seized by an irresistible desire. A desire for healing and destruction in equal measure: just as a grove of trees invites freshly fallen snow to mark its untouched state with tracks. Greta’s delicate modesty is not coquetry. It stems from the dignity of an undisturbed spirit. In a corrupt world, nothing is more appealing than the secret of naturalness. Greta was lured away from the meadows of her childhood to the big cities at an early age. As a muse and model for an avant-garde artistic scene, she was thrown into the world of glamour. Despite all the excesses, something about her remained as unapproachable as crystal cirrus clouds.

Greta Spielrein about herself.

It’s a magical moment when the puppeteer’s puppets come to life. Couldn’t you have sworn as a child that your toys had a secret life of their own? That they only pretended to be dead, lifeless things, while in reality they were alive, had thoughts of their own and looked at us? Maybe I am the only one with this fantasy. After all, I was always one of those pretty toys that were admired and coveted myself. As a model, I allowed my body to be presented as an object. I was the beautiful trophy of geniuses and maniacs. They looked at me incessantly. And I? I was watching them, lurking and hidden in this body they thought was me. Until I gave up modelling to become an artist in my own right.It is a magical moment in a woman’s life when she liberates herself from her passivity. When she transforms from an object of desire into a subject: an artist who loves women even more than men; an artist with her own, quite surprising views – about beauty, for example. Beauty mainly interests me when it comes to the beauty of ugliness; I love the imperfect, the broken. I want to delve beneath the smooth surface to find love, pain and tenderness. As a child, I used to gaze at the mountain lake, reflecting the sun, and wondered what secret depths lay hidden beneath its glistening surface.