Brooke Lanier & Robert Glisson

Is there room for people in Robert Glisson’s neighborhood? How about in Brooke Lanier’s grand, sepulchral ships? 

 

Glisson gives us a perpetual September of high skies, lazy trees on the verge of turning, green expanses toasted around the edges, and hills melting like unattended bowls of ice cream.

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Lanier treats old ships much in the way that an urban explorer treats old factories: as the site of surprise, juxtapositions, and personal and occasionally inscrutable encounters with maritime history.

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