Rather than reconstructing the past, Michael Koliner's "Shredder" disrupts one's perception of a singular present. A paper shredder reduces a strip of digital prints (presumably video stills, "animated" as a sort of proto-cinema) to a pile of linguini-like detritus. Gomez describes the work as "a reminder that every moment in time is a climax, built-up from every moment before it." The narrative, however, is as anticlimactic as they come. A figure stands in a median as cars pass by. I watched for several minutes, expecting a car crash, leap into traffic, or some other dramatic twist. Instead, the man awkwardly shifts his weight as more cars speed by, into the shredder. I have seldom been so captivated by being so bored. That paradox is the alchemy of the show: artists elevating mundane images by manipulating the materials that house them.