There are works of art that burst forth like the sunrise—dazzling, immediate, and unrestrained. And then, there are those that, like a faded daguerreotype found in the recess of an old chest, beckon us to linger, inviting meditation upon the fragility of time, the solemnity of memory, and the silent hum of the artist’s labor. Sheldrick’s “Empire,” released under the Fellowship banner, belongs decidedly to this latter category. Here we find a collection not merely vast in its quantity—though i...

There are works of art that burst forth like the sunrise—dazzling, immediate, and unrestrained. And then, there are those that, like a faded daguerreotype found in the recess of an old chest, beckon us to linger, inviting meditation upon the fragility of time, the solemnity of memory, and the silent hum of the artist’s labor. Sheldrick’s “Empire,” released under the Fellowship banner, belongs decidedly to this latter category. Here we find a collection not merely vast in its quantity—though i...