Reuben Beren James’ surfaces gently flicker like an old Hollywood film noir, with such visual particulation serving to both arrest and test. Executing his works in ink suspended between layers of encaustic wax, he depicts abbreviations of the face and body or reveal an embrace between two figures on a bed, captured in various states of detail by the artist. The result are curious, wondrous images that feel as found as they are fabricated, turning viewer into voyeur as we revel in their poetry of silence, in spite of their bawdy yet strangely homogenised ambience.