‘Scenes are empty of people. No eyes are looking back at us, or at least none that we can see. Often, buildings are depicted without doors or windows; they are containers, ostensibly shapes and structures like anything else that appears in the paintings, such as trees or rocks. […] To the subjectivity of the viewer or, presumably, also to Gallace, narratives are here to be invented; nothing is provided other than the trace of a loaded brush over a surface. Even if her paintings are indexical, they are paintings—not postcards. We are left asking, where is this? Who might live here, and is anyone home?’ — (David Rhodes, 'Maureen Gallace: Clear Day', The Brooklyn Rail, September 2017, online.)