"Chorus of Corrosion": A Garabaggio Framed Print

Oil on digital canvas, 2026. Post-Consumer Baroque series.

At close range the choir stops being a collection of objects and becomes one body with many mouths. This is the fourth station, and the first in which I abandoned the whole cell as a subject. The canvas holds nine terminals, or ten if you count the one at the top edge that the frame cuts in half, and every one of them has bloomed. Corrosion does not arrive evenly. It starts at the raised ring of the positive terminal, where the seal is, and it comes in that particular blue-green that appears nowhere else in civic life except on the roofs of churches. Copper does this. Bronze does this. The dome of every cathedral I have seen in a book does this. I want to be precise about the claim I am making. I am not saying the battery is holy because it corrodes like a cathedral. I am saying we agreed that this colour was noble when it appeared on a roof and shameful when it appeared in a drawer, and that agreement was made by people, not by the metal. The light comes from the upper left and from nowhere else. Four cells receive it. Five do not. I consider that ratio honest. In any choir most of the voices stand in shadow, and the sound is not thinner for it.

• Premium black frame with white mat and acrylic glazing
• Giclée printed on acid-free, gallery-grade 220 gsm paper
• REACH-certified inks, sustainably sourced woodstock
• Ships worldwide via Printify fulfillment