Ted Gahl is a painter of moods. Often populated by ethereal figures, who occupy shimmering, ambiguous spaces that appear always on the cusp of dissolving into constellations of abstract pigment, his canvases resemble scenes from fugitive memories, hazily recalled works of fiction or rapidly evanescing dreams. What’s foregrounded here isn’t narrative, or at least not in any straightforward sense, but rather the subtle calibration of atmosphere. This is a difficult quality to point to, located as it is in the interplay of every painterly element and decision—colours, forms, textures, composition—that Gahl brings to a given work. And yet, we should not mistake atmosphere for something insubstantial. In the passing of time, human beings forget the vast majority of their lived experience, and even the most significant events in our personal histories rarely survive within us intact and entire. What linger in our minds, though, what always abide, are feeling tones—particular, suffusing moods.