There is this kind of charm in viewing Fiskin's work that is not easily explained with words but rather some kind of knowing kinship either in terms of attentions/intentions or else similar cultural overtones, the similar way in which my my grandmother might arrange the buffet or the china hutch for herself, or the party or the bazaar booth.
I had taken this photo in passing just days before viewing this show (see how it relates to the photo directly above). Again, it is a curious kinship of attentions, especially when viewing a stream of fascinating images in such a context, a flatscreen inside an art gallery and also along the way in the world at large.
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