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Every gallery has that painter, the stylistically performative running the permutations of their look. They’re fun, fine, you could do far worse than Schoolwerth and the PR which, turgid, aptly describes the loss of your viewer-self within, metaphor for the free floating body that everyone everywhere is at pains to describe but not touch. So we’ll say it here, it hurts to touch nothing. So when looking at the coldness and feeling the stylistic chrome they contain know it’s a real possibility.