In Katarina Löfström’s third solo exhibition at Andréhn-Schiptjenko, one is cajoled by both the comfort of repetition and sensory parameters related to any given reality. Perception, after all, is adaptable and even, at times, restrained. Human beings are able to train themselves to hone attractive skills and master talents through trial and error. Yet we are limited by the physical vessels we inherit, and hindered as our bodies deteriorate over time. As if in response to these constraints, Löfström focuses inward, embracing less circumscribed states—to begin the dialogue between “me” and “myself,” which Plato saw as the essence of thought. When moving through the space, I found my breathing slowing down—I felt myself slowing down—as if the artist was inviting me to feel no shame in taking refuge in what is provided. Low, ambient sounds drone from the video A Void (2013), reminiscent of Robert Fripp & Brian Eno collaborations or soundtracks from sci-fi films such as Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), minus the paranoia. When viewing Löfström’s consciousness-expanding collage works (on view alongside the video), no text is displayed in association or clarification and no parameters are defined, persuading one to develop a language based solely upon images. …