ʻO Juno Calypso

Noi hana, hui pū ʻia nā kiʻi ponoʻī a me nā kiʻi i ka hana a Calypso. Hoʻopiʻi kāna mau kiʻi, ʻO nā hoʻomanaʻo like ʻo Tumblr i nā mea a ka hui e hana ai ma luna o nā wahine, kahi e waiho ai ka mea pena i ka melancholic i loko o ka ʻauʻau ʻauʻau, ua pulu kona lauoho ʻulaʻula i ka wai huāhue. Ua ʻike paha nā poʻe ʻē aʻe i ke kua o kahi blonde wigged, me ka pale ʻulaʻula ʻulaʻula a me nā kuʻekuʻe wāwae e hoʻohālikelike. Ke waiho nei ka hanana o Juno Calypso i kāu nūhou, inā paha ʻoe e hahai iā ia a ʻaʻole paha. ʻO kāna papahana i kapa ʻia ʻo Honeymoon i hoʻopaʻa paʻi ʻia, akā, ʻo ke ʻano āna i koho ai e pāʻani ua loaʻa i kona ala ponoʻī.

He haʻawina koʻikoʻi ʻo Joyce i ka 'manaʻo o ka nani,’ where women are pressured into a poignant construction of femininity. Calypso dives into the mystery of beauty routines, filling her scenery with “innovative” versus nostalgic objects. Where one finds the millennial pink imagery romanticized, monitored with a closer look it no longer appears as innocent. The beauty equipment pictured in her work varies from electric masks connected with wire and remote controllers to her body laboriously covered in green mud, her wig triumphantly untouched. Joyce is Calypso’s alter ego, whatever she does, the result will never be as satisfying as of that projected by the general public. Joyce is alone, in her never-ending race to outrun age and meet perfection at the finish line.