Much of David Clarkson’s predominantly photographic work has reconstructive overtones. He starts by taking a number of photographs of a building’s facade. Calling these photos “glances,” Clarkson tries to make the camera look as cursorily and intently as the eye would, resting for split seconds on individual features of the facade. He then reconstructs the complete facade as closely as possible from the photographs. The viewer’s natural reaction is to attempt to reconcile the individual images into one focused image. But when this is done, the viewer ceases to be aware of each individual photograph

Viewing Station, the oldest sculpture in Robert Bowers’ recent show, was built a little over a year ago. Constructed to look like the public-service boxes of rock salt which dot Toronto in the winter, Viewing Station was meant to be placed in Clarence Square Park for a few months. Square and green, the box has translucent plexiglass apertures along one side, and a clear plexiglass hole in the top. Inside is a tableau of a room.

This piece embodies concerns which are presented more succinctly in other pieces in the show. In all of these works, paradoxes of shelter and utility are created in order