At Holly Antrum's Grand Union solo exhibition Alicia Rodriguez observes an archive, not a remote memory of something past, but a moving catalogue of a collaboration still unfolding.
A
pair of travelling eyeholes allow playful glimpses of floorboards, white walls
and a collection of abstract paintings. The gentle and sporadic sound of a jazz
saxophone accompanies little ovals of vision. Later, the same paintings can be
seen in a studio. Back in the gallery, the artist thumbs through a book resting
on her lap. She recites an experimental sound poem from 1964.