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    Summary

    There's a turquoise awning over the gold-trimmed doorway and before San Niang even walks her through, Xie Lian is trying to straighten her back into proper posture. San Niang lightly squeezes her hand.

    There is a small crowd milling around inside; waiters in matching uniforms carrying trays of champagne, and people standing in front of some of the displays talking quietly to each other. San Niang's work occupies a whole room, the wing to the right of the doorway. The brick walls are decorated mostly with her largest oil paintings— massive abstract and lurid scenes that are at once sinister and inviting.

    At the center, there is a sculpture of a plum branch, frozen in bloom, the flowers made of blown glass rather than steel like the rest. The branch is twice San Niang's height and each of the dozen flowers is a unique one.

    "This came out incredible," Xie Lian says, stopping a few feet away from the centerpiece to take the whole thing in. San Niang snorts, her eye darting the other way.

    Series
    Language:
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