Layers upon layers—Dear Lord! The endless procession, white and sharp as sugar, of Sabina Ott’s work, is practice as jawbreaker. The constant re-contextualization of mediums, concepts and the concepts which are intrinsic to mediums, raise old Marshall McLuhan—she so often works in cream, shades of the Valley of Dry bones—to venerate and destroy. Mediums and messages are playfully expounded upon, cut, draped, carved out, camouflaged and manipulated in such a way as to seem alchemical. It’s nothing less than fucking magic, transmutations physical and mental. Ott’s ability to tease brilliance from mediums banal—and this is the right word, tease, her genius fun—extends even to the conceptual.