An approximation, not a mastery, of a taxonomy for contemporary art, The Second Sentence of Everything I Read Is You: The Queen Mary, 1979-2006, marks a return, of sorts, to the presentation of a sound component in the gallery site for Prina. Since 1982, he has produced work with sound, and sometimes music, for such locations, but not since 1995 has he included such an element in installation, having preferred the circulation of CDs and 16mm film. Now, in an attempt to confront the recent tendency toward the nondescript video installation which results in the misappropriation of public space – you know, paint the gallery black, lay industrial carpet, project the image floor-to-ceiling, place inadequate speakers in the upper reaches of the space, far from the discerning ears of spectators – this work takes over the gallery as the support for this work, making spatial overture part of the spectator sport. This is not a particularly novel idea in the arts in and of itself, but the historical amnesia experienced in this arena suggests a response could be helpful.

Conceived as a traveling spectacle – a mini-Broadway-musical-on-the-road or circus – the crates for the work remain in the exhibition space, transformed into padded benches, providing a modicum of comfort to the viewer. A nine- and an eight-track musical composition sound though an incomplete grid of speakers, complemented by a lone, spotlighted one. As if to resonate in sympathy, one lone image of The Queen Mary docked in Long Beach Harbor glows at a distance. Unpacked, the work then lays claim to the walls, floor, and interior space by use of varying strategies, ”...aspiring to the condition of light industry…” indeed.