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Little silhouettes that have lost
their way, sucked up by colour, drowned in the void, with no
hint of motif or subject. Barely a rectangle.... a window,
perhaps, yet made up of nothing but colour ... Can painting
be the only possible avocation for Martine Deny, in the face
of that unremitting agitation which gnaws at her soul and
sinks its teeth into her, cutting off all sense? And yet,
here and there, we find a pin-prick of irony-a scintilla of
laughter to lighten the emotive burden. » (Dominique LARRIEU
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