My Notes on a "Parallel World" were assembled in the back rooms of a working mannequin factory. They are comments not on the generic artifice of a shop window display, but on its dismantled, fragmented and invariably human invisible backdrop. Working in a mannequin factory for four years, I became intimately familiar with the reality behind those perfect bodies with the plastic smiles. Sharing their private backyard, I recognized their frailty, their disjointedness, their contradiction of a presence. In this accidental motionless universe, a byproduct of that which was created to seduce and beckon, human sensation is laid bare.