Despite Californian I tires and Pontiac Grand Am brand name; despite engine parts, damaged gas tank cover, and crushed grille; despite muffler and exhaust pipe, chassis and axle, glove compartment and cup holders; despite four doors, four wheels, and decal announcing “Jesus is Lord”—Unpainted Sculpture, 1997, is not a car. Somehow casting in fiberglass all the elements of a totaled car removes them from car-ness just enough to raise questions about what it is, how it works, and how meaning attaches to it. The wreck is an accidental intersection of time, space, and material, which might make it

It is possible to like sound so much that you’d want to inhabit or somehow make yourself into a speaker, to crawl into the space and be reduced to the absence of everything but the sounds you make. Something akin to such an urge is behind Evan Holloway’s austere and groovy music box, Black Cabinet, 1997. Large, prepossessing, and reminiscent of a Richard Artschwager crate, the wood structure of the cabinet is covered in black vinyl. Walking around its somewhat rhomboid exterior sides, one encounters a black velvet curtain, an entrance to the cabinet’s dark interior and slightly raked linoleum