Matthew Brannon’s preferred medium is illustration, which he reproduces with techniques derived from the now ancient art of typography—off set print, lithography, silkscreen printing—combining craft and mechanics, the value of the original work of art and the cheapness of mass production. Similarly, the style of his drawings is characterized by a marked retro feel, recalling American 50s graphics, stylized and highly refined, with simple, neat lines, and a limited, harmonious color palette. The images depict everyday objects, frills and furnishings, food and wine glasses, plants and animals, and are often accompanied by texts, apparently used as captions to help understand the image, or as effective advertising slogans. In fact both the texts and the titles of the works operate in the opposite way, amplifying the mystery of representation, emphasizing the dysfunctional potential of language. The words, sentences and short anecdotes associated to the images create as many cadavres exquis, surreal and disquieting riddles that keep their meaning hidden. All this dwells in the empty space that separates the visual and verbal domains, the white of paper which, like an abyss, seems to attract objects and words into it. Communication becomes impossible, maybe because there is nothing to communicate, except the futility of language and of the things it tries to grasp, the ornament that masks nothingness.