“Thought Cloud Shrines,” some resembling a multiplex of cuckoo clocks, a tower of tiny chairs stacked on each others’ laps, or a Mardi Gras mask on steroids, reach moon-ward from the tops of human heads or from the backs of men dressed for space travel in Theo Ellsworth’s booklet of meticulously-drawn fantasies, and the simple composition of black ink on tan paper can occupy the careful viewer for hours.
