It’s appropriate, then, that his drawings resemble the reaction of the eye when faced with a blank space. The tiny hairs and specks of dust recall floaters, the shadows of red blood cells that bob across one’s vision when the eye is still, as when one looks closely at a work of art in a white-walled gallery space. In this sense, Mosettig’s work lives in the gap between the eye and the brain, between a thing seen and a thing understood. Its power lies in its unwillingness to close that gap.