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Art is like space. We are surrounded by it. In any direction we look, it’s there, though it may be obscured by atmospheric glow, buildings and institutions, the earth itself. And even when you can see it, when it’s dark and quiet out, when the star-strewn sky looms above you like infinity, our minds are but a rounding error on the fabric of spacetime. Our perspectives dictated by the time and place where we exist as we hurdle through the universe on the backs of moldy rocks wildly flailing around, occasionally colliding.


At best we can see with our naked eyes, on a clear night, in a dark and quiet place, are planets, brighter because of their proximity, and the most celebrated stars. Art is a telescope. We cannot make you see, but we can help to magnify the comets, the nebulae, the minor stars in all stages and transitions in their life, the exoplanets, the meteors, the collections of ice that form magnificent rings, the definition in the clouds that you never knew where there to begin with.


We are Art, and this is our task.

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