On closer examination, a viewer quickly realizes that those apparently severe rectangles actual- ly reveal painterly birds’ eye perspectives, satellite-like views over the edges and flat planes of scrapped building materials, like odd sheetrock and plywood cut-offs, Styrofoam packing blocks, remnants of accordion-fold window blinds, a detached red chair cushion. Brillhart collects these mundane and familiar objects in her studio, and in a repetitive process of leaning or hanging them on the walls as gravity allows, she arrives at random-feeling systems of built- up shapes that somehow function for her compositional sense. The combinations often beg to be decoded as to what is near or far, upright or flat, solid or shadow.