Quarters (a laundry accessing device, a way of dividing the year) is a seasonal project space that lives in the private quarters of a Los Feliz home (it’s laundry room).

How do we access the cyclical feelings of the seasons in the eternal sunshine of Southern California?

Quarters is a time keeping device, tracking expressions of the personal and universal as it moves through seasonal aspects of the human experience.

Winter, 2022

Wintry Mix
Jan 27-19th, 2022

Show Statement
By Nina Muccia, Edited by Reese Riley

I was born in a cloud

Now I am falling

Wintry Mix: a weather event naming the combined fall of slushy, solid, or icy bits. Air temperatures determine their atmospheric plummet - a snowflake? An ice pellet? Something more formless? Then there are surface conditions. What now - Slush? Something unpleasant?

Receiving an artwork is like an unpredictable weather system. Thought and feeling’s immateriality conspire to a physical form by the artist’s labor, as water particles are morphed by air. Prospective snowflakes hit the surface where conditions are unknown, a work meets the viewer’s eye and is exposed to infinite subjectivities.

Slush-like, flakey, or solid, all melts when met with a greater force - the sun. Particles are sucked back into the water cycle and continue to sustain life. As for artist’s intention versus viewer’s reception, I’m not sure if continuity matters if both parties are moved; a life sustaining force of its own.

I am ice and dust and light

I am sky and here

Kate Bush. “Snowflake.” 50 Words For Snow, 2011.


Madelyn Kellum
Jessica Palermo
Mike Francis

Photos by Paloma Dooley


Fall, 2022

‘every star is a pit‘
Nov 6th-8th, 2022
Show Statement
By David Lisbon, Edited by Lauren Studebaker

With the invocation of a new thought or the distillation of a new concept, new worlds begin to unravel themselves. These worlds, formed by these new experiences, are also unconsciously informed by an individual’s archive of personal memory. Sometimes all that is required to build the future is creating space to distill past experiences.

As a result of the rapid changes in our ability to access information, the way we view the utility of memory has changed. Never before have so many verified archives of our lives existed. In the past, personal memory was the strongest archive. This idea of visiting and revisiting an origin point was a way of survival for both the body and mind, and was often aided by devotional objects, storytelling, or through image-making. In ‘every star is a pit,’ Hannah Murphy embarks on a journey through certain touchpoints and ideas tasked with the care of collective and individual memory.

This is fundamental in Murphy’s exploration of origin and memory—she prioritizes the leaving of space for the unformed or unrealized, giving them the room to become something new. In her mounted lockets, and her wall panels in the patterns of yet-to-be-folded boxes, Murphy creates memory palaces—a long-used spatial mnemonic—for the experiences of both the artist and the viewer. Held close to the heart, a locket is a perfect resting place for a reminder of an origin.

By leaving the inside of a locket bare—instead of filling her vessels with produced memory or stock images—Murphy gives the viewer multiple entry points for finding meaning, perhaps even connecting a starting point found in the work to their own experiences. In her wall works, Murphy tears down the walls of the memory palace, exposing one’s inclination to obfuscate and re-write certain memories. Through these exercises with space and storage, Murphy’s sculptures engage experiences of the viewer by confronting their associations with objects and sentimentality, as well as by comforting them by providing a space for reflection.

Hannah Sage Murphy
Photos by Simon Bermeo-Ehmann

Summer Show, 2022

‘tmto zsn: or a story about the dangers of industrial thought‘ July 8th-10th, 2022
Show Statement
By David Lisbon

Often as I wonder through the constantly stuffed and re-stuffed key food on Myrtle avenue, I wonder if my being there makes me complicit. I stop and pause.

As I stand Comparing the Idaho and Red potatoes under the fluorescents, I wonder. Where did this produce come from? I leave the first fingerprint on a newly placed waxy red apple at the top of the pile, who was the last person to touch this plant before it became a product? Was this person paid? Were they paid a living wage? Where are they now?

The pause is brief, I digress and continue.This work imagines itself as a middleman or intermediary that exists within this pause.

This work is about tomatoes, but it’s also about self reflection.

David Lisbon