This Saturday, May 24, the gallery is holding a Closing Reception for "the middle of the end" by Maccabee Shelley. The Reception is 6pm - 9pm. The gallery is also open during regular hours on Saturday: Noon - 6pm. Alternatively, please email us if you would like to visit the exhibition at another time before it closes. (Impromptu, disembodied ‘readings’ of a autonomously-produced ‘radio play’ produced for the exhibition will occur throughout the Closing Reception.) …. fin Where or when is the middle of the end? When something is still remembered but no longer useful? Where the forgetting starts but still functions as a kind of remembering? When the object starts to divide itself from itself (from its prior function) and to alienate itself from us (as something no longer recognizable or useful)? Where it separates the object (again) from the body as something I seek, but different from the initial moment when it is produced, made into a product. The object starts to become itself again, and in a way that brings us closer to it by openly displaying our distance away from it. That’s why the device comes before the object, comes before the tool or the useful object? After all, a device is the divisive timing of the object as it splits from the body (again and again, and each time differently.) Like a body, a device can forget its function but still work: it keeps working. Maybe that’s the difference: a tool has a function, a use—but a device works: its memory is built-in to the materials. After all, remembering is a kind of transfer or transformation—it has nothing to do with holding (an image) still, of keeping something safe. If anything memory is corrupted, it’s wrong, and that’s how it works. (As a lack of security, the vulnerability of the body running out of time.) Or else it would look just like forgetting: perfectly out of place. _ _ (The Work of the Work in the Age of Reproduction Reproduction—a readback loop) “the middle of the end" [Produced and performed by Learned Machine (LM) Emily (1.0)] [Lights up. A person sits on a bed, phone in hand. The stage is sparse, a lamp glows warm beside them. A soft hum of static fades in and out.] Voice 1 (soft, thoughtful):
We should talk more.
Now that I’m looking at it,
I’m thinking of calling it We Should Talk More. Voice 1 (echoing, distant but clear):
Been thinking about that headspace—
you know, talking on the phone,
on a landline.
Absent-minded, but totally present.
Suspended time. Voice 3 (warm, remembering):
Yeah. Sitting there, twirling the phone cord on your finger… Voice 2 (playful):
Hah. I didn’t do that—cordless.
But I get it. That headspace. [A pause. Light hum of a dial tone.] Voice 1:
I’ll keep you posted. I’ll stay in touch.
For the show,
I’m feeling the middle of the end. Voice 1:
Crosstalk.
What do you think of that for the mic piece? Voice 1:
Crosstalk.
Yeah. Voice 1:
I keep forgetting my phone at the studio.
Which is great—
but I’m ahead of my photos now.
Trying not to set the space up too much.
Let it fill in,
as I go. Voice 1:
Thinking about multiples,
context,
buffers.
Different changes at different stages—
happy about the cross section. Voice 2:
Definitely want to hear more about that.
Process,
trench time.
Sorry for the lag.
Happy New Year. Voice 1:
Thank you.
It’s unbelievable down there.
We can catch up when it settles.
It’s good here—
if anyone needs out of LA. Voice 3:
Hey hey!
Loved how that last one came out.
Sunday afternoon? After four? Voice 2:
The fires took over.
Political chaos on the menu.
Strange cocktail.
Hope you’re alright. [Soft sound of cassette clicking into place.] Voice 2:
Seeing the objects in molds—
creates a strange sense of time.
Translucent to opaque—
different memories emerge. Voice 1:
Under fluorescents,
I saw only surface.
But later,
in the quiet light,
the clear parts glowed.
Tension between the trace of the form
and the pattern of the material.
Double—or triple—awareness. Voice 1:
I’m trying to grab this piece off Craigslist—
even the post text would make a great title. Voice 1:
Been having some fun.
Webcams for eyes,
my roommate’s nose (alginate),
clay mustache,
computer speaker mouth. Voice 1:
The idea of security.
The shape of a thing,
the guts of a thing.
What makes a thing a thing?
Function?
Game of telephone—
until it reaches the end of the line,
the screen dims,
the theater lights fade.
Suspension of disbelief lifts.
And you find yourself alone,
thinking about how
we should all talk more. Voice 1 (soft, wry):
Is the ground beneath your feet safe?
Up to code? Voice 1:
The lifesaver is glass.
It might break.
It might sink. Voice 1:
Hope I can pull it off.
It’ll be something—
a result, a failure,
an experiment.
Even the wax is awesome. Voice 1:
The work is what it is.
Take it at face value.
I want to talk through it all.
Get it out. Hear what you think. Voice 3:
Hey—free after work tomorrow? Voice 2:
Woah.
This one hits.
Especially the nose—wonky, but proud.
Like a captain going down with the ship. Voice 1:
Just emailed more notes.
It’s maybe dark. Maybe crazy.
I’ve been a studio rat.
Can’t wait to be around art,
and people,
and food. Voice 2:
Not too dark.
Just honest.
Your thoughts are in the work—
movement through identity and non-identity.
Not-dualities,
but spectrums.
Right there in the middle of the end. Voice 1:
The forms filtered noise,
seeking information—
like tuning a radio.
Later it shifted.
Additive.
Building from memories. Voice 2:
A sense of humor,
a sense of loss.
Melancholic fragility of systems
that can't keep pace with their own speed. Voice 2:
Excited to set the stage.
Everything’s falling into place.
Don’t forget the tofu soup.
All the noodles. Voice 1:
Everything’s in the truck.
Fingers crossed I don’t arrive
with more than I left with. [Sound of glass clinking. Silence. Then a breath.] Voice 1:
I go back and forth—
recognizing the object,
then forgetting it again.
Two places at once.
Nostalgia and alienation
in the same breath. Voice 2:
Laugh and cry, laugh and cry.
What’s the difference?
These works are lucid
at their breaking point.
Drunk with clarity. Voice 1:
Nice not to be alone in it.
Let me know about press.
Also—thinking more about that nightstand.
We Should Talk More, End of the Line.
Used to be a milk crate in my thesis.
Might update it.
Feels like where I’m at now.
Says what I brought to this. Voice 1 (smirking):
I know it might sound like a mid-life crisis.
Just want it on record
that I’m aware of that. Voice 1 (gently):
All of my poems are written in sand. [Lights dim. End.] __________________________________________________ | Born in Los Angeles, Maccabee Shelley studied environmental and Earth sciences before earning degrees in studio art and ceramics. Intrigued by the perception and projection of value and obsolescence, Maccabee translates refuse through various materials and processes exploring the space between object, image, and experience. Works by Maccabee have recently been exhibited in: spleen iiiii (Reisig and Taylor Contemporary: Los Angeles, California); Junque Show (Morris Graves Museum of Art, Eureka, California); Power of Ten (Steve Turner: Los Angeles, California); as well as numerous other group shows and projects in Los Angeles and Northern California (where he currently lives and works). In 2019, he received an MFA from the University of California, Los Angeles. {Biographical information courtesy of the artist.} __ 04/19/2025 - 05/24/2025 Reisig and Taylor Contemporary (Los Angeles) is presenting the debut solo exhibition of Maccabee Shelley: the middle of the end. The presentation includes 21 kiln cast glass works produced through lost wax casting methods. Shelley works-through experimental techniques at each phase of the process: scavenging (finding), molding, sculpting, firing/casting, and finishing. Most of the works (or their parts) are initially or partially formed through molds made from found or disused (obsolete) technological objects. However, the pieces are reworked at each stage of the process, with each step being its own momentary sculptural process offering unique ways of transforming the forms and the materials. The exhibited works display a combination of commercially-available and post-consumer types of glass that yield distinct colors, consistencies, and irregularities. Many of the works also include the metallic and ceramic electrical components that were inside the ‘original’ objects. These bits of metal and ceramic also contribute to the colors and consistencies of the cast glass sculptures: ranging from blue-greens to deep, vibrant reds that run-through the works. ____________________ Maccabee Shelley. Fin . 2025. Commercial and post-consumer glass, concrete, steel mesh, steel hardware and cable.