Watching people walking by Marco Fusinato’s drawings and taking pictures of them with lenses as small as a tooth and as large as a 24 oz can of beer, and then also taking time to take pictures of the wall text, and then stepping back and seeing that the flow of people never stops; unrelenting brigades of tourists and cognoscenti, armed with nikon olympus and iphone snapping click, click, click; it’s hard to hear over the echoes of the chatter and the works–the recordings of jana winderen, and the amplified spinning marble of richard garet–but you can hear quite clearly the snap click click and whir of focus in the sound dampened chamber that is haroon mirza‘s frame for a painting.