For I Left My Grandmother’s House, Victoria Hely-Hutchinson turns not only her eye, but her ear as well to her extended family in Austria, merging fragments of family lore with keenly observed photographs. The work neither provides a tidy critique of the extant aristocracy, nor does it blithely venerate the decor, saying “ooooh,” while rolling the brocade curtains between its fingers. Instead, it simply shows and tells, through the disembodied perspective of familial subjectivity. It interrogates history but receives only demure shrugs in response.