A silent installation of three sombre masses of wood arranged together on a concrete floor. They are like furniture, but bigger, stronger and, seen in the sharp north light of a June day in a gallery in West London, they seem to brood. This sculpture comprises two bent benches, cleanly, obliquely angled in the middle, their sides open, placed on either side of a fully enclosed bent box similarly angled with a pitched-roof lid.
This central object is like a reading desk in an impossible library, a kinked coffin, an impenetrable shelter, a perverted table; something that invites the thought of ...
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