WATCHING THE DETECTORS
By James MacDevitt
Chris O’Leary and the Cosmotechnics of Gravitational-Wave Observation
In his well-known treatise on nineteenth-century visual culture, The Techniques of the Observer, the media historian Jonathan Crary pinned the conceptual origin of the modern observer to the moment when natural light lost its prior ontological privilege to be replaced instead by personal sensation, when “physical optics (the study of light and the forms of its propagation) merged with physics and physiological optics (the study of the eye and its sensory capacities) suddenly came to dominate the study of vision.” In prioritizing the embodied, individuated, and, quite often, unreliable nature of human sensation, as Crary goes on to argue, this conceptual shift opened observing bodies to all manner of quantitative measurement, effectively causing them to be increasingly susceptible to evermore powerful institutionalized regimes of surveillance and control. However, as the initial nineteenth-century studies of human sensation, such as Gustav Fechner’s psychophysics, evolved into more nuanced practices in the twentieth century, related developments, like Norbert Weiner’s cybernetics and Marshall McLuhan’s media theory, would demonstrate just how utterly reliant human beings had actually become on the technological extensions that were devised to meet, and then ultimately exceed, the sensory limits of the human observer. Nowhere is this acceleration more apparent than in the complex technologies that now allow for quantum and astrophysical detection well beyond the restricted sense capacity of our fleshy organic bodies.
The number of earthbound observatories, near-earth telescopes, and distant rovers employing sensing technologies that are calibrated outside the range of direct human observation is sizeable and constantly growing. Chandra (CXO) can detect the faintest of X-rays, Hubble (HST) can take in optical light, including ultraviolet signals, while Spitzer (SST), and later James Webb (JWST), were both designed to see in infrared; not to mention all the other terrestrial radio telescopes, gamma-ray detectors, and similar technologies that vastly expand the human detective capability. In fact, for quite some time now, our many cosmotechnic observational surrogates have necessitated our engagement with them as a kind of thought experiment, translating inference into representation. This includes everything from simple diagrammatic visualizations of numeric datasets to nuanced sonifications of electromagnetic signals, from minimal abstractions of basic physical processes to complex visual models of the entire solar system and beyond. Though the casual viewer might be largely unaware of this fact, the most familiar and widely-circulated images depicting far-off distant space, those compelling astrophotographs released by the Hubble Heritage Project, showcasing such awe-inspiring phenomena as the gaseous clouds of the Eagle Nebula, are frequently modified to play into a well-worn aesthetic language of exploration, as inherited from previous generations, which Elizabeth Kessler has dubbed “the astronomical sublime.” However, even the most seemingly dry and unaltered renderings of scientific observational data are, by definition, manipulated mediations since they must inevitably be filtered to fit back into the sensational range detectable to the
human observer (i.e. presented within the spectrum of visible light); their functional use value would simply disappear, were they not.
The LA-based artist Chris O’Leary has built his extensive multimedia art practice by closely examining this gap of ineffability between the cosmotechnical tools of observation, the means and methods of mediation, and the sensory limits constraining human perception. Through an ongoing cross-disciplinary dialogue with some of the most important laboratories working on contemporary issues of astronomy, cosmology, and environmental science, O’Leary strives to refocus our attention to the technical and theoretical ingenuity of the scientists involved, who must grapple daily with the some of the most profound ontological questions and existential concerns imaginable. Many of O’Leary’s most recent projects have specifically set out to examine the extremely complex and highly sensitive instrumentation used in cosmological investigation, as well as the extraordinary megastructures within which they are housed. By combining photographic documentation and videobased recordings taken on location, with thoughtfully crafted procedural manipulations inspired by his extensive and intensive research, O’Leary generates aesthetically stunning imagery capable of conceptually conveying core scientific theories while maintaining a sense of wonder in the miraculous nature of it all. In the process, he also frequently reveals the specific historic, scientific, and technological contexts that have influenced a particular instrument’s design and construction, as well as how that design, in turn, has impacted current scientific knowledge.
The problem of the observer is the field on which vision in history can be said to materialize, to become itself visible. Vision and its effects are always inseparable from the possibilities of an observing subject who is both the historical product and the site of certain practices, techniques, institutions, and procedures of subjectification.
Jonathan Crary, Techniques of the Observer (1990)
You think you’re alone until you realize you’re in it Now, fear is here to stay, love is here for a visit
They call it instant justice when it’s past the legal limit Someone’s scratching at the window, I wonder who is it?
Elvis Costello, Watching the Detectives (1977)
In his series Observers, for example, O’Leary catalogues as many earthbound astronomical observatories as he can, including optical, radio, and spectrographic telescopes and arrays located in some of the most extreme environments on the planet, as well as a number of incredibly-precise instruments, capable of observing the most minuscule phenomena currently possible, often tucked away in nondescript scientific laboratories, research facilities, and university basements. In every case, these sensing machines put our human bodies in touch with a universe that we could never fully perceive unaided. In Meeting the Universe Halfway, philosopher Karen Barad highlights the significance of focusing discursively on these kinds of instruments of knowledge production:
There is an important sense in which practices of knowing cannot fully be claimed as human practices, not simply because we use nonhuman elements in our practices but because knowing is a matter of one part of the world making itself intelligible to another part. Practices of knowing and being are not isolatable; they are mutually implicated.
This perpetual entanglement of cosmological knowing with the specific and historicized tools of cosmic observation is woven, or rather knotted, throughout O’Leary’s oeuvre, from Comic Cosmology, which restages seventeenth-century etchings by the occult cosmologist Robert Fludd, to Spectra, which computationally parses the spectrographic data produced by the Magellan Telescope of the Carnegie Observatories in Chile, to Cygnus, which visualizes the singular directional flow of dark matter emanating from the eponymous constellation, as identified by the Drift II Dark Matter Detector.
The most recent subject of focus in O’Leary’s ongoing artistic practice exploring the unique architectures and observational instrumentation of various earthbound observatories has been the two super-massive L-shaped detector sites (located in Hanford, Washington, and Livingston, Louisiana, respectively) known collectively as LIGO (Laser Interferometer Gravitational-Wave Observatory), which is operated under the auspices of the United States National Science Foundation by scientific and engineering teams from Caltech and MIT. LIGO was designed and built - along with somewhat smaller, though functionally similar, structures in Italy (VIRGO) and Japan (KAGRA) - to detect the previously undetectable signatures of gravitational waves, as theorized over
a century ago by Albert Einstein. Akin to the better-known Large Hadron Collider, operated by CERN along the Franco-Swiss border, the massive scale of these LIGO enclosures are in direct contrast to the utterly minuscule phenomena they were designed to observe and, yet, are still dwarfed by the near-infinite capacity of the cosmos they purport to describe. Within its otherwise non-descript concrete tunnels sit, quite literally, the most sensitive observational instruments ever devised by human beings.
In a cycle of continuous observation, a powerful laser is generated at the instrument’s origin, only to be split into two and simultaneously projected down one of the 4km (2.5 mile) long vacuum-sealed cavities encased by the concrete arms of the observatory. Both halves of the split lasers are then reflected back and forth along each arm, hundreds of times, between two precisely-milled mirrors intricately suspended from a series of interconnected pendulums designed to minimize exterior vibrational noise, before returning to the initial point of origin to be recombined and measured. On reconstitution, they either cancel each other out (which is the normative and expected state), or, on rare occasions, they do not (revealing a spatial-temporal distortion that is then mathematically interpreted as a passing gravitational wave). While these disruptions in space-time had been previously predicted by Albert Einstein’s general theory of relativity, it wasn’t until September 14 of 2015 that the LIGO detectors first confirmed their actual existence. In the last nine years since that initial confirmation, LIGO has observed dozens of unique events, each of which, though all based on the same theories and following expected waveform patterns, leaves a distinct signature, featuring subtle differences in strength, shape, and direction of origin. The ongoing detection and recording of these extraordinary events will continue to refine our collective comprehension of the underlying structures of gravitational waves, which will no doubt raise additional questions that, in turn, will generate future scientific research. Notably, the Nicholas and Lee Begovich Center for Gravitational-Wave Physics and Astronomy, located on the campus of Cal State Fullerton, has since been established to further investigate LIGO’s observational data, as well as to educate and conduct outreach based on the new gravitationalwave science that LIGO now makes possible.
Gravity Well, O’Leary’s current solo exhibition at Cal State Fullerton’s Begovich Gallery, curated by its director, Jennifer Frias, features the most recent video installations and photographic works by the artist, inspired by LIGO’s dual detector sites and the unique instruments
Observers (Radio Telescopes, SETEI, Hat Creek, California), 2015, Digital inkjet print, 26 x 40 inches
within them used to sense ripples in space-time caused by the collision of super-massive black holes thousands of light years away. Central to the exhibition’s presentation is documentary footage of the megastructures that form both LIGO detectors, and archival research materials compiled and arranged directly by the artist. Importantly, all the pieces in the show either emit their own light or have prominent lighted elements. In the primary video installation, also titled Gravity Well, O’Leary employs custom software to combine video, sound, and images with generative effects, produced in real time, to exemplify the distortional vibrations of the gravitational waves LIGO was designed to detect. O’Leary further develops his artistic and conceptual investigation into the cosmotechnics of gravitational waves through a large-scale photographic triptych, Time Space Line, cataloguing the history and theory of the field, a series of photo-sculptures, Intersecting Planes, which mimic the interlocking arms of the two LIGO detectors, and, viewable online via a QR code, a series of animated three-dimensional illusions, Scales and Aspects, presenting the dissected anatomy of a collapsing black hole and its attendant gravitational wave. In many ways, this important exhibition is the culmination of O’Leary many previous projects, bringing together the disparate elements of his artistic practice, including close engagement with significant observatories, documentary footage of the large structures and precise instrumentation used at those sites, and code-generated conceptual visualizations representing datasets collected by those sites, as well as the often-weird scientific theories underlying that data.
Spectra (MAGE Observer Spectra #0007), 2019, Digital inkjet print, custom software, 40 x 80 inches
Lending its name to the title of this entire exhibition, Chris O’Leary’s large-scale video projection, Gravity Well (2024), assembles snippets of documentary footage, recorded on location by the artist, featuring the extraordinary megastructures of the dual detector sites that together form the Laser Interferometer Gravitational-Wave Observatory (LIGO). For the most part, the video footage consists of a series of extreme wide shots taken from fixed angles, variously framing a single arm of the two massive intersecting barrel-vaulted tunnels at each site. With their elongated functional linearity, they are visually pitted against the vast flat landscapes and broad open skies within which they are situated, alternately depicted as either running in parallel to the straight line of the horizon or receding into the distance along angular orthogonals. Against these stunning and expansive vistas, these tunnels, LIGO’s primary architectural feature, are shown to be as ornamentally lackluster as they are monumentally impressive. Implied, of course, but never actually depicted in the video, is something far greater than the sum of these parts for, protected within these concrete tunnels, though certainly not apparent from the exteriors alone, are some of the most complex and sensitive instruments of quantum observation and celestial detection ever devised.
Any real sense of the regular flow of time within each languidly shot sequence is primarily illustrated by the sweeping shadows that are cast on the ground from clouds passing overhead. Computationally superimposed directly into the center of each video segment, however, is an animated spatial-temporal distortion field closely resembling the diagrammatic forms uniquely produced by passing gravitational waves, the very phenomena LIGO was designed to detect. These waveform
View Scales and Aspects
Scales And Aspects, 2024
Video monitors, custom software, mylar, glass cloche Dimensions variable
patterns are generated here using O’Leary’s custom-scripted software that parses and interprets large numeric datasets taken directly from LIGO’s observational recordings and since the software is constantly running in the background in real-time, the video loops are forever modulating and never repeating. In a nod to the indirect and apophatic nature of quantum measurement, as well as the cosmotechnical surrogacy required of nearly all modern extraplanetary observation, O’Leary brilliantly resists here the simplistic impulse to present just another straight-forward visualization of scientific data. Instead, the viewer is poetically confronted in the video, not by the actual form of the gravitational wave itself but, in keeping with its conceptual warping of space-time, by the visual displacement produced by that form.
For the audio elements, O’Leary collaborated with composer and sound designer Estevan Carlos Benson to produce a specially-designed ambient soundscape, likewise generated in real-time to match the constantly evolving visual script. Importantly, however, O’Leary and Benson chose to avoid deploying the familiar, and therefore expected, synthesized sounds (such as oscillators, filters, and envelops), which by now are so commonly associated with science fiction soundtracks and astronomical sonifications. Instead, the instrumentation here is distinctly human, including hand-held instruments and body-generated rhythmic elements. This is obviously in deference to the plethora of religious rituals and meditative ceremonies linked to humanity’s long journey through ontological contemplation (i.e., any attempt to understand the nature of the universe and our place within it). The emphasis on humangenerated sounds, however, could also be an acknowledgment that our limited embodied sensorium is the only means through which we, as human beings, can ever engage with any of the quantum and celestial phenomena LIGO was designed to observe on our behalf.
Because the theoretical framework of O’Leary’s ongoing visual art practice is so intricately and intimately intertwined with what are incredibly complicated scientific theories, histories, and technologies, it is quite natural, and probably even somewhat desirable, for viewers to overly-fixate on just trying to comprehend the very dense science involved. This aspect of O’Leary’s practice, of course, puts pressure on the art itself to navigate between and around the sometimes oppositional polarities of the aesthetic, the poetic, and the didactic. As with any sincere attempt at translation, the questions are always “how much information is too much” and “how much is not enough.” The brilliantly meta-discursive and selfreferential triptych, Time Space Line, is O’Leary’s response to that perpetual dilemma.
The playful title is an obvious mashup of the relativistic conception of space-time with the graphic visual device of the time line. It also happens to be a fairly accurate description of the work itself, which loosely narrates developments in the theoretical science of relativity and gravitational waves, the engineering design behind LIGO’s laser interferometer detectors, and the observational data eventually recorded by those same LIGO instruments, all presented through a careful arrangement of historical documents, archival photographs, illustrations, and diagrams, including relevant labels, citations, and commentary. This entire collage is displayed across three 40 x 50 inch lightboxes as high-resolution photographic images, presented without any digital manipulation, with each lightbox roughly corresponding to a tripartite division of the documents into respective categories associated with theory, instrumentation, and observation.
On one level, this triptych of images could functionally serve as its own educational didactic. But, of course, in application, it is so much more. O’Leary’s masterful lighting, camerawork, and framing transform the piece into a brilliant aesthetic spectacle and a conceptual tour de force. The layout of the photographed documents is compositionally compelling and dynamic, combining an underlying gridded scaffolding with well-placed offset counterpoint accents and contrasting strong linear geometries with both graceful arcs and seemingly emergent clusters. The documents themselves are pristinely pinned, as if entomological specimens, at various proximate distances from the wall, creating slight overlaps and cast shadows that amplify their three-dimensionality and add a lively tension between figure and ground. Illuminated with cross-colored gels combined to light the foregrounded documents in white light, they also cast shadows that color and discolor the other documents, as well as the background, over which they are stacked. A chromatic spectrum is projected across the entire scene, alluding to the prismatic refraction of visible light and the shared origins of art historical color theory and astronomical spectroscopy.
In the immediate foreground, superimposed in front of everything else, a single glowing laser beam bounces diagonally in sweeping right angles between a series of well-placed mirrored reflectors, appearing to perfectly transition from one image to the next, further visually unifying all three lightboxes. The actual 100-watt green laser O’Leary used here is a reference to the similar laser apparatuses at the core of the LIGO detectors. The laser’s three right-angled trajectory mirrors the distinctive perpendicular shape of gravitational-wave observatories. The L-shapes that form the broken line of the laser beam itself could be seen as a reference to the general notion of triangulation, which allows for directional detection, including of gravitational waves - such as when the two LIGO detectors, along with VIRGO in Italy, triangulated the first evidence of gravitational waves from the distant collapse of a binary neutron star. However, the superimposed and linear character of the laser beam in relationship to the orderly nature of the underlying documents also deepens the already suspicious similarity of
Estevan Carlos Benson
O’Leary’s arrangement to a so-called murder board or conspiracy wall, with the bouncing laser akin to the networked segments of string or yarn. Here again, O’Leary reminds us of his utter fascination with the inductive power and brilliant ingenuity of the scientists and engineers who first theorized and then confirmed the rules of quantum physics by variously piecing together a wide range of seemingly disparate concepts and data points into a meticulously-composed system that provides us, at the very least, a modicum of access to the awe-inspiring mysteries of the universe.
In contrast to the technological complexity and/or informational density presented in the three other installations in O’Leary’s exhibition, Intersecting Planes delivers exactly what its title promises in about as simple and straightforward a fashion as it possibly could. Three separate photo-sculptures, each illuminated from below by a light table, are formed from the stark perpendicular intersection of two semi-transparent rectangular planes of 8 x 10 film, up to and including the film’s actual registration mark. Each film panel depicts a vast open and flat landscape, within which is embedded one of the terrestrially-bound concrete arms of a LIGO detector facility stretching off towards the horizon. Attentive viewers will immediately recognize the visual similarity between these photographs and the documentary footage used in the nearby Gravity Well video installation. The three-dimensional nature and specific materiality of these photo sculptures, however, alters that viewing experience entirely. Recorded by the photographer from vantage points either directly atop the tunnels or just to their side, the compositional lines formed by the receding vaulted structures, along with the attendant surroundings, appear to intersect and overlap at the horizon along the central vertical joint formed from the two intersecting planes. Aided by the translucent quality of the film, along with the partial bounce of light off their semi-reflective surfaces, the nominally divergent X and Y arms of the individual detectors seem to converge instead and even coalesce, warping and confusing their expected spatial relationships. Sculpturally, the L-shaped angularity produced by the right-angled joining of the two
planes is once again reminiscent of the LIGO detectors themselves. And in fact, one of the photo sculptures is made specifically from images taken at the Livingston site in Louisiana, while another merges images from the Hanford site in Washington state. The third photo-sculpture combines one shot from each site, forming a hybridized location that doesn’t technically exist but instead nods to LIGO’s inherently distributed nature (as both detectors operate collaboratively). The three photo sculptures also mirror the three lightboxes used in Time Space Line and the three video fragments of Scales and Aspects. In each installation, the triadic repetition is conceptually relevant, with three unique spatial points required to form the two crossing arms of each detector and, more generally, as a technical requirement for triangulating direction in three-dimensional space, including detecting the directional origin of gravitational waves themselves.
Scales and Aspects, presented online as a reference piece via QR code, revisits O’Leary’s previously animated simulation of a black hole, now updated to sit within a specially-designed tripartite interface. The earlier video was originally produced as part of the collaborative installation, Black (W)Hole, created with artist Sara Mast, physicist Nico Yunes, and composer Jason Bolte, as a commission for the Celebrating Einstein conference at Montana State University, held to mark the centennial publication of Einstein’s essay on general relativity and just a few years before the first LIGO observations officially confirmed his theory of gravitational waves. Coded using the programming language Processing, O’Leary’s dynamically generated model is sub-divided into three looping videos. The first portrays a distant black hole, with its extensive accretion disk of gas and dust, and the second depicts the so-called Zoom Whirl Orbit of a second black hole, the accelerating spiral motion specific to the generation of gravitational waves, while the third diagrammatically renders the unique spatial-temporal distortion field of the gravitational waveforms themselves.
Taken all together, the works in Gravity Well combine an equal investment in both ontology and epistemology. Throughout the exhibition, O’Leary highlights how far, and how rapidly, scientific knowledge has advanced in just the last one hundred years, but also how much of the human experience of phenomena like black holes and gravitational waves is still profoundly mediated, and must forever be so; a fantastic illusion that
we show to ourselves, of the stuff that we’ll never actually see. In O’Leary’s work, there is nearly always a conscious desire to celebrate, and quite exuberantly, the absolutely magnificent achievements in human effort, deduction, and engineering that have allowed us to see and understand so far beyond our limited means. How completely extraordinary is it that a species of evolved monkeys can build such massive and precise tools that they can detect what would otherwise be a completely imperceptible modulation in something as minute as a single proton here on earth and then comprehend that ever-soslight totally imperceptible photonic shift as the trace of a massive celestial event involving black holes hundreds of light years away, confirming a prediction made over a hundred years ago by a theorist who, at the time, had absolutely none of these tools? There is also, however, hiding just under the surface of O’Leary’s work, a kind of wistful melancholy, a recognition that humanity will never be able to experience any of this directly, only ever in translation, and, somehow, that has to be enough.
ABOUT CHRIS O’LEARY
Christopher O’Leary is an artist, photographer and researcher. His work in photography expands from still images to video, animation, custom software, and other experimental processes. O’Leary’s projects are generated in dialogue with scientists and laboratories working on contemporary issues in astronomy, cosmology, environmental science, and other fields, across the globe. He was the first artist in residence at the Carnegie Observatories in Las Campanas Chile, and has worked with researchers at Caltech, LIGO Labs, the Smithsonian, UCLA, Cal State Fullerton, and more. He has been awarded a number of artist residencies including the Ucross Residency, the Playa Residency, and the Rockland Residency. His current research is about the science and observation of gravitational waves, which culminates in this solo exhibition at the Begovich Gallery at Cal State Fullerton in 2024. He is also in a group show highlighting the research archive at Caltech, in conjunction with the Getty’s Pacific Standard Time Artand-Science Collide initiative. O’Leary’s work has been shown in museums and galleries around the globe, in both art and science contexts. Chris lives and works in Los Angeles, California, and is an Assistant Professor of Photography at Pasadena City College.
ABOUT JAMES MACDEVITT
James MacDevitt is Associate Professor of Art History and Visual & Cultural Studies at Cerritos College, as well as the Director/ Curator of the Cerritos College Art Gallery. In addition to cofounding the multi-institutional SUR:biennial, initiating the
interdisciplinary Art+Tech Artist-in-Residence Program, and overseeing the rotating Window Dressing public art displays, MacDevitt has curated numerous exhibitions for the Cerritos College Art Gallery, including OVER/FLOW: Horror Vacui in an Age of Information Abundance, Object-Orientation: Bodies and/ as Things, Architectural Deinforcement: Constructing Disaster and Decay, Abstracted Visions: Information Mapping from Mystic Diagrams to Data Visualization, Geo-Ontological: Artists Contemplating Deep Time, and Stock Footage and Outtakes: A Selection of Works by Gronk. He has contributed essays to the exhibition catalogues for MetaDataPhile: The Collapse of Visual Information at Cal State Fullerton’s Begovich Gallery, Marsia Alexander-Clarke: A Journey Through Time at the Lancaster Museum of Art and History, and SINKS: Places We Call Home at Cal State LA’s Luckman Gallery. His essay “The User-Archivist and Collective (In)Voluntary Memory: Read/Writing the Networked Digital Archive” was included in Revisualizing Visual Culture and his chapter “Generative Adversarial Networks: Contemporary Art and/as Algorithm” appears in Algorithmic Culture: How Big Data and Artificial Intelligence Are Transforming Everyday Life. MacDevitt holds a Masters in the History of Art from UC Riverside, where he previously served as Digital Media Associate at the UCR/California Museum of Photography and Assistant Director of the UCR/Sweeney Art Gallery.
ABOUT THE EXHIBITION
Gravity Well, an exhibition of recent multimedia video installations and photographic works by artist Chris O’Leary, explores the historical developments and technological mechanisms that have granted humans the ability to perceive the otherwise imperceptible cosmic phenomena of gravitational waves. O’Leary’s research-based art practice frequently toggles between the application of sophisticated scientific knowledge and the philosophical enigmas and existential dilemmas that such formulations produce, with a particular fascination for the advanced instrumentation required to perceive these mysterious underpinnings of the universe. While previous projects by O’Leary have explored various earthbound observatories and labs designed to detect everything from light particles to dark matter, his latest body of work focuses on the unique instruments used to sense the ripples in space-time caused by the collision of massive black holes thousands of light years away. Central to the exhibition’s presentation is documentary footage of the Laser Interferometer Gravitational-Wave Observatory (LIGO) and its dual detectors in Hanford, Washington, and Livingston, Louisiana. Through custom software, O’Leary combines video, sound, and images with generative effects in real time to exemplify the distortional vibrations of these gravitational waves. O’Leary further develops his artistic investigation of these themes through related large-scale photographic works cataloging the history and theory of the field, a series of 3D animated illusions presenting the anatomy of a gravitational wave, and a photographic film sculpture gathered from his extensive research at both LIGO facilities.
The exhibition is presented in partnership with the programs in Creative Photography & Experimental Media, Game Art, Animation, & Immersive Media, and the Nicholas and Lee Begovich Gravitational Wave Physics and Astronomy Center (GWPAC) at CSUF. Curated by Jennifer Frias, Gallery Director/Curator, with an extended essay by James MacDevitt, Associate Professor of Visual and Cultural Studies at Cerritos College. Support is provided by the Art Alliance, CSUF’s Instructional Related Activities Grant, the College of the Arts, and the Department of Visual Arts.
Exhibition Dates
November 2, 2024 - May 17, 2025
Artist Lecture
April 21, 1:00 PM | Location: Visual Arts – Bldg. G (College of the Arts Galleries)
Artist’s website: https://oleary.studio