museum 3 halls

A tall bronze-framed portal in a pale stone facade, opening onto a long skylit gallery with a barrel vault, gilt pilasters, parquet, and a warm-lit doorway at the far end.

The Museuma small museum, three halls

Enterthe lobby

The walk through the building is film, and film needs JavaScript. All three halls hang on this page: Personal Art, Reading Room, Nolan / 13.

Tactile memory board on warm paper, layering intimate photographs of friendship, travel, meals, coffee, flowers, leather keepsakes, and a couple growing old together — Gathered Light memory board

Gathered Light memory board

Rain-soaked future city at night, where a solitary courier shelters flowers beneath a translucent coat as a tram approaches and one red signal reflects across flooded rails — Rain City a night in the rain

Rain City a night in the rain

Particle bouquet on deep black: a luminous mass of coral and cream ruffled roses over a pale grey-green filler tier, a white lace burst, and a burgundy stem bundle, its edges dissolving into a spray of light — Flower’s Message living particle bouquet Open experience

Flower’s Message living particle bouquet Open experience

Chinese ink-wash landscape on warm xuan paper, with a monumental rain-dark cliff dissolving into mist above a tiny boat, distant roofline, reeds, and two lifting egrets — Splashed Ink ink-wash landscape

Splashed Ink ink-wash landscape

Refractive glass specimens over oversized typography and cobalt orbit lines — Ice Cube typographic exhibition Open experience

Ice Cube typographic exhibition Open experience

The rainbow bridge of the Qing court Qingming scroll: a crowd on the white stone arch, boats on the river beneath it, green trees and shop roofs, in colour on pale silk — Along the River, in the Rain Qing court handscroll, unrolled Open experience

Along the River, in the Rain Qing court handscroll, unrolled Open experience

A riverside teahouse of the Qing court Qingming scroll painted anew: a two-storey balcony over shopfronts, a stone embankment and the river below — Along the River, One Plate painted anew, rain over it Open experience

Along the River, One Plate painted anew, rain over it Open experience

Rain over a Jiangnan canal, tiled roofs, willow branches and a stone bridge — Jiangnan in the Rain rendered canal scene Open experience

Jiangnan in the Rain rendered canal scene Open experience

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A rain-slick city backstreet at night, brick walls and shuttered doorways receding toward a distant lamp, a lime-green bollard in the foreground, and an emptied metal box spilling papers and small objects across the wet ground. — Everybody has a box.

Everybody has a box.

Dozens of torn instant photographs spiralling backward into a vanishing point above a bleached desert highway, the low motel, scrub, telegraph poles and parked car printed in faded cyan and pink. — Now… where was I?

Now… where was I?

A fogbound northern fjord town under a sun that will not set, dark conifer ridges and a salmon-red sky above a river choked with a raft of floating timber. — Don’t lose your way.

Don’t lose your way.

Looking up the throat of a vast limestone cavern, where a column of thousands of small bats spirals from the rubble floor toward a bright opening of daylight beside a pale waterfall. — It’s not who I am underneath, but what I do that defines me.

It’s not who I am underneath, but what I do that defines me.

A mirrored night field where two identical iron lattice towers throw violet lightning across a storm sky above endless planted rows of glowing filament bulbs. — Are you watching closely?

Are you watching closely?

A dense city of towers seen straight down from above at night in bruised violet and slate, split by a jagged diagonal fracture of burning orange with a single scorched coin hanging over its centre. — You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.

You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.

An impossible charcoal-and-white city folded through opposing gravity directions as blocky printed volumes, a pale staircase turning through the middle and a broad red-to-orange band zigzagging down the page. — An idea is like a virus.

An idea is like a virus.

The inside of a deep circular stone pit seen from its floor, ring upon ring of rough masonry rising to a small circle of blue sky, with one knotted rope hanging down the shaft. — A hero can be anyone.

A hero can be anyone.

A black circular void set right of centre, ringed by a lensed disk of fine halftone lines shading from magenta through gold, over a dark star field with ruled furrows dissolving at the lower edge. — Mankind was born on Earth.
It was never meant to die here.

Mankind was born on Earth.
It was never meant to die here.

A long stone breakwater curving out from a wide ochre tidal beach into a grey-green sea, a small red-hulled boat beyond it, and formations of distant aircraft trailing contrails across an overcast sky. — All we did is survive.
That’s enough.

All we did is survive.
That’s enough.

A symmetrical canyon of concrete buildings in steep perspective, cool blue on one side and warm red on the other, with slab arrows running upward on one half and downward on the other toward a narrow seam at the centre. — What’s happened’s happened.

What’s happened’s happened.

A desert plain at dawn beneath a colossal expanding sphere of light drawn as concentric halftone rings of white, yellow and orange, a steel lattice tower standing small and black at its foot. — Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.

Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.

A single ancient oared ship with a square sail riding a great spiral swell of wine-dark sea, a sheer cliff island ahead and a low gold sun marked with an eye above the horizon. — Don’t look for gods in men; you’ll always be disappointed.

Don’t look for gods in men; you’ll always be disappointed.

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Screen-print of a classical Chinese garden at dusk: a red-pillared lakeside pavilion with upturned eaves, a tall pierced scholar's stone, a flowering crabapple dropping pink petals over still water, and a round moon-gate in a white wall, all reflected under a pale moon; no one is present. — When the false is taken for true, the true becomes false; where nothing is made something, something turns to nothing.

When the false is taken for true, the true becomes false; where nothing is made something, something turns to nothing.

Screen-print of three tattered war banners in red, yellow and dark blue planted on a rocky bluff above the Yangtze at sunset, a line of small junks under sail on the orange water below, and layered hills fading into haze. — The empire, long divided, must unite; long united, must divide.

The empire, long divided, must unite; long united, must divide.

Screen-print of a worn footpath crossing a bare winter field toward a small walled town under a full golden moon, a leafless tree at the left, deep blue night sky. — The earth had no roads to begin with; when many people walk one way, a road is made.

The earth had no roads to begin with; when many people walk one way, a road is made.

Screen-print of an ox pulling a wooden plough alone across a bare yellow loess field, dark furrows in the foreground, a low mud-walled village and dry hills under a wide sky of scattered clouds. — In youth you roam, in middle age you dig for treasure, in old age you turn monk.

In youth you roam, in middle age you dig for treasure, in old age you turn monk.

Screen-print of a grey city wall at dusk with one small arched gate standing open, warm lamplight and a red lantern inside, a straight paved road leading in and a dusty road curving away, a bare tree against a rose sky. — Those outside the city want to charge in; those inside want to escape.

Those outside the city want to charge in; those inside want to escape.

Screen-print of a quiet study at night: three empty wooden chairs around a small table under one warm reading lamp, stacked books, a bookshelf, and through an open window a dark moonlit river with a single small boat. — From now on, only death will part us; there will be no more parting in life.

From now on, only death will part us; there will be no more parting in life.

Screen-print of flooded terraced rice fields stepping down a green Yunnan valley in bright noon sun, one water buffalo standing in a terrace, big white clouds over blue mountains. — That day I was twenty-one, in the golden age of my life.

That day I was twenty-one, in the golden age of my life.

Screen-print of two great eagles wheeling over the golden Mongolian steppe, a camp of round felt yurts and grazing horses below, a segment of the Great Wall along a distant blue ridge, and a bow and quiver of arrows leaning against a rock in the foreground. — As I see it, killing many people does not make a man a hero.

As I see it, killing many people does not make a man a hero.

Screen-print of a cloud of yellow butterflies rising over a small tropical town of adobe houses with a church tower and a stone bridge, banana and palm trees, and a clear river running over enormous smooth white stones in the foreground. — Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendía was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice.

Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendía was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice.

Screen-print of a small wooden skiff with a patched sail alone on a deep blue sea at dawn, the bare skeleton of a huge marlin lashed along its side, the sun rising on the horizon. — A man can be destroyed but not defeated.

A man can be destroyed but not defeated.

Screen-print of a snow-covered monastery with onion domes behind a stone wall and gate under a red moon, a log cottage with one lit window among snowy birches, and a line of footprints crossing the snow to the gate. — Above all, don’t lie to yourself.

Above all, don’t lie to yourself.

Screen-print of the great comet of 1812 blazing across a starry night over a frozen field, a distant city burning orange on the horizon, a wrecked gun carriage and a bare birch in the snow. — Seize the moments of happiness, love and be loved! That is the only reality in the world, all else is folly.

Seize the moments of happiness, love and be loved! That is the only reality in the world, all else is folly.

Screen-print of a barricade of overturned carts, chairs, barrels and paving stones filling a narrow Paris street at dawn, a plain red flag above it, tall shuttered stone houses, a blank hanging sign, and wet cobbles reflecting the sky. — To love, or to have loved,—this suffices. Demand nothing more.

To love, or to have loved,—this suffices. Demand nothing more.

Screen-print of white windmills on the dry La Mancha plain under an orange sky and a large sun, one windmill sail splintered, a broken lance and a dented basin-shaped helmet lying in the dry grass in the foreground. — Each of us is as God made him, aye, and often worse.

Each of us is as God made him, aye, and often worse.

Screen-print looking out of a dark mountain cave mouth at sunrise: an eagle with a serpent coiled around its neck circles above a sea of golden clouds and violet peaks as the sun breaks over the horizon. — One must still have chaos in one, to give birth to a dancing star.

One must still have chaos in one, to give birth to a dancing star.

Screen-print of a pale stone country house across a wide still lake with a stone bridge, park lawns and old oaks reflected in the water on a soft summer morning, a folded blank letter lying on the grass in the foreground. — It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.

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