Turbomeca appears nonchalant in an abandoned industrial space, but reveals a considered installation utilizing architectural flukes. The requisite row of “paintings” is anything but, a rock meteor shower screwed into the wall, an overwhelmingly sad tar covered mop levitates over a plastic crate, and an Asian figurine faces the wall atop a ziggurat of boxes moping beneath a charred ejector seat photo. A cutout child figure, spilled gold paint dinosaur, and neon splat intentionally unlit offer whimsical counterbalance. This description is unfairly literal, whereas the experience is alchemical: it shouldn’t add up but does, packing conflicting emotions: pain, loss, promise.
~ Karen Weiner