Waiting in a darkened, curved room behind ceiling-high velvet curtains are oil paintings on raw linen embodying symbols' past. Liberated from the archive, they relevé in a balancing act atop USSR-era matryoshka. Slipper dust encircles a vinyl dance mat, stoneware hollyhocks that crackle in applause to a ticking metronome, x-stitches thread cross-century regalia, a woven polypropylene royal mail sac overflows with onions and a para-fictional text titled A Call for Recur printed by Sunday's Print is offered beneath a Cyrillic calendar marking 04.24.22 beneath a diffused wax wreath. This bricolage articulates tensions rising since 2014, idle time spent, anxieties that lie in complicity, and the warping of perspectives moments before the curtains rise…