The wood of an old garage can sometimes give off the scent of skin's loneliness beneath cloth. The general sense is of a housed potential and the halted engine of a possible speed. In a room where objects spend more time than people, windows look in rather than out, and the unaware may find themselves equally fenestrated. What matters for the moment is the fragmented memory of a once and future glimpse. The peek through blinds, the sight through a veil, the peer through darkness, are all here for the taking, but it would be wise to consider that what one wants may be inextricable from wanting itself. Habituated to expecting images from a single direction, transience may be experienced as an all-over glow, and in that light it can be considered that what takes root and is cultivated will never bear fruit, but grows all the same. Habituated to expectation, it’s easy to forget that housing is always temporary, i.e. the limelight hits the stage before any actress enters, but she takes it with her when she leaves. Summarily, but nowhere near the end, she said:light the way spacefor a softened blowand an adequate vice for sittersand an adequate pasttime for lookerscondemn in all reached directionsi saygo for itSplintered, the pieces will never be whole, but must be treated as though they are; peeping-toms get off on the partial view.I say, go for it.-Civil Sunset at Open House5083 Highland View Avenue, Eagle Rock, 90041