Visitors, the new collection of work by artist Theo Ellsworth, falls somewhere between claustrophobia and futurism, its astronauts hiding inner selves peering out from between the lines as they plummet through outer space, modern marvels consumed by the depth of their own intricacies. The detail in this new work belies a focus that would put a computer god to shame; mediums of wood and paper highlight the fallibility of the future man, as though the finest trees in the world were used to build a robot before the realization that it cannot bend its knees. Ellsworth admits the subjects of this series are “beings from far away, living in locations too small to see.” Living in Portland — with all the rainy-day drawing that that implies — probably does wonders for the execution of the work. Ellsworth's art exists in the world as something very dry, very insular and constitutionally fascinating on all fronts.

Sat., Nov. 6, 2010

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