zeke moriarty & jonah dillon

May 15: opening reception


May 22: papermaking workshop @ 1:30pm


May 29: artists talk @ 1:30pm


Project will be on view Sundays from 12-5pm and by appointment

Public school, while not a literal representation of its namesake, is a culmination of language, image, and associations that have a strong relationship with the spaces of state institutions, industrial education, and a specific stage of one’s life. Often, these relationships are mediated by sets of dualisms- violence in pacification, apathy in supposed good intent, sterility and unification in abjection. It is the realization that these exterior spaces, and the ideology applied to them, do not reflect the interior and reality of the circumstances. In this way, “public school” represents a kind of body under duress, a facade that does not reflect its troubled interior, coated in an attempted sterilization that cannot fully wash out its wounds- a band aid on a bullethole. Simultaneously, it is also a space of transitions, of comings and goings- adolescence to adulthood observed under the flicker of fluorescent light.


There is not an inherent commentary in these works and words. Perhaps it is more ephemeral than that, a desire to understand something that cannot be concisely summarized despite the wealth of language surrounding it. In many ways, the set of experiences referenced here are so highly intersectional, individual, and personal that we feel it would be a cheap disservice to try and condense them in a neat, consumable format. I think that we are more interested in eliciting an emotional or visceral response, maybe some kind of cognitive connection, than a feeling of succinct understanding. We hope this work resonates with you in some way or another.

White walls meet popcorn ceilings, water damage pooling like a bloodstain.

It leaks out of the polystyrene veins, and

It lulls in beige, Its violence is in pacification.

Time for a break.

The dirt in the tile cracks matches the dirt under my fingernails,

secrets the cleaning agent couldn’t sterilize.

Your apathy matches my reflection in the clogged drain.

I do whatever you tell me to.

Back in focus,

I have an intimate relationship with the dark cavity of my slightly opened backpack,

metal teeth yawn like a gimp mouth, their glint dull under cast fluorescence.

I know what’s in there.


Jonah Dillon is an artist born in 1999.

it’s been playing in my head all week, my father says, as i watch the video he passes to me, the liveleak thumbnail blaring in the corner. a man, probably european or eastern european, works a metal lathe in a squalid space. a worker's task that feels less like a task but an avenue to afford food and shelter. there’s no waiting and the moving image cuts straight to the point. he gets caught in the lathe, his body flailing off pieces of itself across the purlieu of the event. spinning around with no limbs looking like a sack, treated like chaff. the poor camera quality hides enough of the details, but the lack of clarity somehow makes it feel more real. another distressed coworker turns the machine off. video rewinds. look at where his head falls off, he says. been stuck on repeat in my head all week. the video plays in my head sometimes too.

Ezekiel Moriarty is a sculptor.