Epigraph
All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players.
I don't often write art reviews. Once I was called by my inner voice to go see an opening at the new gallery of Ms. Asya Geisberg. My viewing of the show was random, without any hint from a press release. I spoke to the artist, Julie Schenkelberg impressed by her "true artist" sincerious and magnetic persona. Later in a comfort of my home, I reviewed the videos and pictures. This was when my "aha moment" happened. I no longer looked at the installation show that was not entirely unconventional, rather mainstream of postmodern deconstruction that plays out similar response on encounter. Was the installation a correction of real or it was the real correction of surreal... Each piece Cowered, In the Supper Rooms, Streetcar showed a point of breakage, obscured composition but held it together in a fragmented mode. I had a feeling that flatness was in fact the desired effect with the artistic striving, crave to bring as much life as possible out of the flat picture space, have the images literally jump off the canvas. If it wasn't for what Julie explained Julie tells me about her art http://www.facebook.com/?sk=messages#!/video/video.php?v=170188899666724
to me I probably would of walked I dare not say that from the conceptual installations this one was my favorite. The art about fragmented, distorted nature of perception. How far could one go to create a coherent concept of memory, a story of memory, or illustrate what hardly could be put in shape and form, fleeting unstable process of remembering. 
