Why do we feel the need to jot down dates, names, notes; to trace marks, drawings, texts; to record events and grocery lists in notebooks, on sheets of paper and in pocket diaries? Perhaps it’s simply a method of self-knowledge? A not-so-veiled request to be heard? A practice tied to managing memory? Or is it merely the clumsy attempt to leave a trace—the need to face an unkempt, rude everyday life we’ve come to dread? “DISASSEMBLED REPERTOIRE” by Marcello Mantegazza makes no claim to provide answers; at best, it can generate questions—and it does so with the brazen indifference of someone disillusioned with life. On view are cycles of works such as “Sleep Stories,” presented in a version specially re-edited for the occasion, along with other distorted visions left as rough drafts, drawn from the artist’s notebooks—the scaffolding that, according to him, supports his entire work. If one is to believe him.