It makes an odd sort of sense that Michael Snow’s career would begin with a pornographic animation about the romance of domestic objects. Done in charcoal on paper, its table, chairs, and ceramics exist as mostly negative space, shaped patches of white against hatched messes of gray. Taking on a life of their own, they move jauntily within their flat realm, coming together as couples and groups in search of not so obscure pleasures. The fetish of commodities has rarely been handled with such a light touch.