Frances Perry knows appearances are false. The history of photography is a history of falsity. One day that will be a platitude. These thousand-image devices prove incidental, a gallery of deceit. Sufficient unto the day are the images thereof, but in the morning a new song will arise. Best be ready for its challenges, put away all appearances and attempts at appearances. Psalms repeat lines for effect: a new city rises from the rich earth. Frances Perry has births to attend to, visitations, counsels, and lectionary. It’s a kind of exile, the beautiful colonies, burning in January, frozen in July.