There are prints of Bruce Conner’s that become gently graphed onto one’s visual cortex if given enough viewing time. The effect is fleeting, but unmistakable, and it’s what gives this exhibition its title, “Afterimage.” It is uncommon to anchor a body of offset lithographs in the viewer’s sensual experience, but that is precisely what Conner’s early efforts were meant to do. Without intent, one’s gaze deepens to a stare, tracing tightly wound, jet-black, labyrinthine lines across a creamy white page. It is hypnotic and mildly disorienting. Because these abstract images refer primarily to themselves, to their own mitochondrial patterns and the process required to produce them, they permit few external associations. They are not so much moving as stilling, and in this way the experience of the prints becomes incredibly personal. Peter Boswell acknowledges this in a thoughtful essay accompanying the exhibition when he quotes the artist, who remarked, “this work is for the private eye, not the public.”