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Byline: Dodie Kazanjian
The women in Wangechi Mutu's paintings are a strange and disturbing breed. Beautiful but grotesque, powerful yet maimed, they perch in trees or cavort in the tall grass, their hair erupting in wild shapes and arabesques, their limbs missing or metamorphosed into bird legs with talon feet. The unfinished one I'm looking at right now, in the artist's Brooklyn studio, is an African odalisque with a ferocious expression; her blotchy, pink-and-white skin looks diseased, but the mottled effect could also be from light falling on her through jungle foliage. She's fascinating but scary, someone I wouldn't want to cross. "This one is coming along," ...