Walking into Matt Morris’ solo exhibition at Semantics, I Will Never Recover from this Macaroon, is like walking into a house the morning after a decadent, frenetic party. Candles, just snuffed out, drip wax onto satin sleeves and wood floors. Vanity mirrors made of tin foil and encaustic have whited-out faces, as if someone’s having trouble looking at himself. Tissues, damp with tears and lipstick, tossed away. A mirror belies the decadence of cocaine — a lot of it, spilled irreverently onto the floor.here.