The show brings together artists Nooshin Askari, Juan Larraín González, and Dylan Kerr. Its title draws on a phrase from September, a poem in Maggie Nelson’s 2003 book ‘Something Bright, Then Holes’. As we enter, before we know it, we are sucked into another layered vortex, responding to internal cues otherwise ignored.

Dylan Kerr’s piece ‘Solo for Breath’ opens with a focused, pressurised sibilance. As it slowly expands, it moves through the international phonetic alphabet’s chart of cardinal vowels, in both their tight/nasal and open/oral forms. Subtle shifts in vocal formants accentuate specific harmonics, each breath shaping a unique soundspace.

A similarly systematic precision underpins Nooshin Askari’s cut-out drawings. The two cases and the gutter are components of a book in its binding process. Across its sheets, a grid unfolds into enclosed territories, impressing a restrained order onto evasive objects of desire. Squeezed to the left side remains a bruised heart which, even in its displaced shape, is full of longing.

In Juan Larraín González’s paintings, perforated clusters over-mine their own energy. Surfaces appear carved in, their textures rough, cliff-like folds. The hive we see is a place where the workers have relentlessly pruned their honeycombs year after year. One day, however, as debris, propolis, and cocoons hardened the comb until it turned dark and uninhabitable, they abandoned it and set out to build anew nearby.