Something's Missing in This Museum

When texts about paintings try to reach each other across space, pages that query how we experience art become poetic experiments in seeing/reading. What clings to what on these page walls? And do paintings from other centuries (older materialities, differently-moving) themselves re-make each other through their almost touch? Are we momentarily part of a painting when we consider such things? And what's the changing position of the museum which poses us by country, by technique, by year and by foot pattern? In Something's Missing in This Museum, the subjects are love, torture, transaction and time.