The Boiler Room Solo

A solo exhibition by invitation at the Boiler Room Gallery, in the fourth year of the sojourn. The ledger keeps the venue, the year, and the invitation; the walls themselves it does not describe.

It came in the year the time came back. The maker had left the agency desks for freelance work, and with the freedom came afternoons around the lakes, nights on the bridges, and the first honest reckoning with what had been neglected. The presses at Highpoint were right there. The copper was affordable. The acid was waiting. An invitation to hang a room alone, in that year of all years, was a door held open at the right moment.

Whatever hung there, it was hung in the turning: after the periphery years, before the circus creatures came up out of the copper.