In this self portrait, Kiki Smith tumbles like a newborn out of a little book titled Free Fall. Here we are, she seems to say, soft and tender, and we don’t get a script or a chance to rehearse. We just unfold from the book of our lives and we must make the best of it, encased in these vulnerable bodies. I don’t know whether Smith is interested in the nature of the soul, but it seems so, looking at this exquisite print on delicate Japanese paper. And when the exhibition ends, it folds back up neatly into its binding.

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