On one doll’s midsection, the artist transparent nylon to encase disparate bunched textiles. The resulting image is a see-through torso, the material contents of which take the shape of human innards and intestines.

A mid-sized figure (about five feet tall) rests his hands on his hips, cocks his head slightly to the left, and dons a helmet and cape made from blue rain tarp. His pouting disposition and playful costume project a boyish naivete. At the same time, the hundreds of of colored threads that comprise the figure’s face read as veins, wrinkles, and scars, making a once youthful countenance appear weathered, like the newborn Brad Pitt in Benjamin Button. With hundreds of fabrics aggressively sewn together, the characters become weirdly familiar. It’s hard to distinguish whether the puppet’s arm reminds you of your Poppy’s smoking jacket or Winnie Cooper’s sofa on the Wonder Years.  In either case, the material has taken on an entirely novel and riveting form, as if Victor Frankenstein used your visual memories, rather than spare parts, to construct his monster.

O’Connor’s works apparently strike a nerve with all kinds of viewers; Salow explained that he has seen local esidents peering into the windows of the gallery for the first time, if only for a second or two. Unfortunately, many passers-by that