The light portrayed in Arnaud De Gramont’s Light Show are those of the city’s evening, humming, electric and soothing jewels poised as environment, enveloping us in a lonesome urban landscape. The artificiality of these images is belied by poignancy; the void of human presence hinting at the inherent isolation of city inhabitants. Gramont manages Midnight Cowboy meets Bladerunner. Spare, masterful compositions are cooled by sleek blacks and velvet stains of color. The artist’s untitled images have their origins in the iconic cities; New York, London, Chicago, Paris but the portraits are calm and inaudible, an intimation of frenzy and garishness only. Often we see a partial message, but the electric letters’ meaning is washed away in a sensual façade, cascading into an abstraction. We find a hidden naturalism amongst the mechanization. Gramont pictures the seclusion of the city and simultaneously creates its comforting antidote. This contradiction is achieved through a quiet theatricality. These may be the lights Tony Smith saw at the end of his journey, careening down a desolate unfinished stretch of the NJ turnpike, when he was headed home.