Buñuel: Master Of Dreams ; Vesna Jovanovic: Carnival

The red ink looks like skin, or intestines, or pimpled plastic. Above, across, and through it, the white spaces and clean lines of her illustrations shine sharp as a knife. The effect is a claustrophobic distance, a comforting squirm—perverse and clean, gross and satisfying, fun and filthy. Like Buñuel, she is interested in when the body breaks. There’s a version of this combination that could be nauseating, but with Jovanovic’s mastery of contrast, instead the effect is jubilant. All the potential for revulsion in the pocks and pulls of flesh is turned to energy, not despite the irrepressible feeling of your body (exhaling and fidgeting and oozing as usual) seen in strange echo on the wall, but through it.