A rack at a discount home store is an accidental museum: no wall labels, no hushed guards, and every landscape already imagining the sofa beneath it. SOFA, SO GOOD elevates that humble shuffle into choreography. The paintings pivot politely toward the viewer, rise for one solemn inspection, and then roll away into the middle of nowhere. Beneath each departure waits another meadow, another harbor, another stranger's uncle, and always The Face. Fine art may ask to be contemplated. Sofa art merely asks whether it matches the ottoman.