The corridor
Doors close to the public and the house lights drop two stops. You walk in on the service side, past the crates that never make it to the label.
A quieter cut of the same collapse — fine grid, warm ink on a dark room. Four rooms open when the building closes, one hour each, no daylight and no crowd.
The collection is lit for the day. After hours it is lit for the eye: lower lux, longer dwell, and a route that never doubles back on itself.




Doors close to the public and the house lights drop two stops. You walk in on the service side, past the crates that never make it to the label.
Eleven metres of a single hanging, read left to right at walking pace. The guide says nothing for the first four minutes.
Glass, and behind it the working drawings — the parts of the collection that were never meant to be finished, let alone shown.
One room, one work, the lamp on a timer. When it goes, the night is over and you leave the way the night staff leave.



Three thresholds. Each one draws itself over the last, bottom to top, at the speed of your own scroll.
Tilt a card: the sheen turns with it, the way a varnished surface turns under a moving lamp. It is the same trick the room plays on you at 23:30.

Ink and splatter over gallery architecture. The only piece that is rehung every night.

A room drawn from memory three weeks after it was demolished.

Working drawings, unsigned, found inside the frame of another work.

Shown for fifty minutes a night. The lamp is part of the work.
Full catalogue · 41 works · night rotation
No group tours, no photography, no return on the same route. The list opens on Monday at noon and closes when it closes.