Alex Furtado’s (b. Alexander Da Costa-Furtado, 1991) practice lies somewhere between a visual artist and a senile handyman. Error breeds sense, but it’s unknown if this is for him a genuine philosophy or just the doggedness of a failing vocational student with perfect attendance. Half of the time, it looks as if he’s proudly extracting his mistakes from the wall of a home he was paid to work on, trying to cut his blue-collar losses in the art world. The other half of the time, he’s modifying and combining found objects to express some kind of sentiment or anxiety, lived or imagined. At their intersection, he explores themes of failure, care, and a sense of the incomplete both interior and exterior to individuals.