Knitting—which the artist has practiced since childhood—moonlights as fiber paintings in Rusty Scruby’s new body of work. This one picks up where his knitted series stretched over wooden armatures left off. To both, he brings a mind trained in engineering and music composition, allowing new lexicons to emerge. He achieves tonal range by commissioning a local dyer or employs yarn gathered from across the state; all bow to memory, as familiar photographs dwell behind the patterns. Pixelation knots the past into new constellations, and the slippages between imagination and reality are like dropped stitches retrieved again. Scruby is interested in seeing how far he can delve into abstraction—information loss—while retaining figurative sense, leaving room for nostalgia. His patterned, hexagonal compositions—which employ the organic building blocks that echo honeycomb or wasps’ nests—deceive: heterogeneity of color and homogeneity of pattern creates a tension (also a code). As intimate as they are objective, his fiber paintings exist between the supple loop of memory and the hard needle of fact.