Explicitly religious, overtly narrative, even the lighting/photography doesn't have the contemporary virtuality. And this little fear that these, unfit, are scrolled through as "inclusion" - as the logic that explains it. The indiscriminate napalm of explanation. This while every NYC gallery attempts to revise its roster with 20 somethings that "fit the program." Which is the paradox of visibility. The things that don't fit the program, don't fit the program. Because the program of scatalogic seminal male nappies is prestigious. Instead a great pair of tits called Nurture.