In ancient Greece the female body, considered as  the bearer of darkness and impurity, was placed in opposition to the male body, worthy of respect as with the meaning of a “political body”.

Women were therefore relegated to a hidden part of the house, exclusively reserved for them and the children. The number of women who shared the days inside it was considered as a body itself, called gynecea.

I’ve imagined this sequence of shoots inside an apartment as a representation a modern gynaeceum of women that talk to each other and to themselves during a long day spent together. The memories, the absences, the fears and the expectations of each merge in unison in the nudity of a single body, a gynecea , to which it is difficult to assign an identity, if not the same unique one deriving from their communion and fusion.