“I am out with lanterns, looking for myself” ((Emily Dickinson (The Complete Poems, 1955)).

Light pencil strokes , and in other places dark ones. Strokes that reveal human figures. Dancing figures. Or maybe figures that fight. That hug each other. Or push you away. Figures that have faith. That have lost their faith. That love. That cry. That are like children. That are getting old. That are constantly moving. So many figures , just like the lines that live on our skins. They become free, they escape from the paper. They become bodies. They appear in front of our eyes, just like ghosts. You can't be sure that you've actually seen them. They exist between the pencil that touches them and the white surface they are part of.

Maybe they are your shadows. Or a memory. Or an experience. Or maybe a feeling? They could be someone's diary. Or they might be a group of people passing by at a distance.

Panagiota Altanopoulou’ s Shapes of Identity is all of the above. It is a mirror. Your mirror and others' too. It is that place where we become one with the magnificent stranger, but mainly with our unknown self, our own ghost. It is a diary, a personal path, a unique space/dance, the stories of our bodies, a modern allegory of the cave. Panagiota dares to go out and look for her own ghost. What about you? Are you going to do the same?