Opening Reception: Saturday, May 17, 6pm - 8pm

Curated by Olivian Cha and Eli Diner

Little Messages for Modern Shut-Ins is an exhibition of indecorum, with works by
Joan Bankemper
Than Hussein Clark
Phyllis Green
Nancy Lupo
Patrizio di Massimo
Joshua Nathanson
Nathalie du Pasquier

Once I thought the lot of the "shut-in" most unhappy, but that was because I did not understand. I thought only of the limitations and deprivations, not at all of the inclusions. I had not considered the loves that glow upon home altars all the more brightly because there are those who can no longer walk abroad.

Little Messages for Shut-In Folk
Charles Wesley McCormick

Why is a pale white not paler than blue, why is a connection made by a stove, why is the example which is mentioned not shown to be the same, why is there no adjustment between the place and the separate attention. Why is there a choice in gamboling. Why is there no necessary dull stable, why is there a single piece of any color, why is there that sensible silence. Why is there the resistance in a mixture, why is there no poster, why is there that in the window, why is there no suggester, why is there no window, why is there no oyster closer. Why is there a circular diminisher, why is there a bather, why is there no scraper, why is there a dinner, why is there a bell ringer, why is there a duster, why is there a section of a similar resemblance, why is there that scissor.

Tender Buttons
Gertrude Stein

I open the blinds as he moves away, I invent croakings, awkward groans, I don the mask with a snout and yellow hairs (cardboard tubes, painted nails), I belch a spray of gravely, erudite insults, some of which are as heavy as sedimented rocks, some pale, pointed and fine, others thick as props that serve to contain furious bulls, dry as the sex of old women, drenched as the sex of young bitches, fulgurating with cataracts in a wealth of draperies, I make myself hoarse, and all the neighbors move away from the window, I grumble, I bark, I wail like a child, and then shut myself in with a crash.

The Obscene Madame D
Hilda Hilst