In his historical novel Salammbô (1862), set in ancient Carthage, Gustave Flaubert describes the bombardment of the city by catapults. The stone missiles are inscribed with words and phrases: insults aimed at the targets (“pig,” “vermin”) and the odd, ironic pleasantry, including, “I have thoroughly earned it.” In Caleb Considine’s Painting for Salammbo (2015), the latter sentence appears written backward on a spherical object—a stone, perhaps—resting on a vintage-looking couch adjacent to a slightly frayed parka that is speckled with paint. The alien rock thus joins a vignette one might find in a Brooklyn artist’s studio. In a text accompanying the exhibition, Considine discusses the work in a way that suggests it is integral to the genesis of this show, which includes a small selection of smallish paintings. Some are careful renderings of corners of the artist’s studio, one depicts a group of figures, and others approach abstraction. All are more ambitious than their size would suggest, the outcome of what Considine describes as a long, historically aware process of “communing” with images and objects.