The semi-abstract paintings that Deborah Remington (1930, Haddonfield, New Jersey – 2010, Moorestown, New Jersey) produced from the mid-1960s, depict expansive, hieratic forms that lie somewhere between the organic and the technological. Collectively they seem to anticipate the aesthetics of personal computing with their hard-edged, machine-like forms and subtle gradations or backlighting effects that now recall screens. Merthyr (1966) is composed of several interlocking elements, like a fictional machine. In contrast to the objective, hopeful nature of Ulla Wiggen’s work, Remington’s machines appear ‘ruined… blasted and spent… opened or cut away’ and imbued with ‘mask-like shapes’ and ‘sexual and fetishistic symbols’, suggesting ‘a machine which is coming to life, or perhaps a life which is becoming a machine’. The artist described her work as follow: ‘I am concerned with expressing an intense and personal vision through an imagery which is particularly my own. While I do not completely understand the sources of this imagery, my work contains elements which, by simultaneously attracting and repelling one another, create a tense balance which has emotional and spiritual meaning for me.’