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. The room echoes with Glenn Close’s tears and an operatic booing from the film Dangerous Liaisons. Watching the small DVD player looping Morris’ favorite scene gives you insight into the life and death of the party. All of us who have experienced morning-after What-did-I-Do?s will appreciate the bedlam and the tears and even the most delicate and the most noxious scents — of a broken atomizer, actually drafting perfume into the gallery and of a glorious wig of feathers, caught on fire. Morris’ work deals with materials and experiences so carefully that even in this small room in Brighton, you will find yourself cast in the roll of a rococo bad girl. The gallery is open noon-4 p.m. on Saturday, and starting at 7 p.m. on Saturday it will host “Sonic in the Parlor,” featuring several local musicians and sound-friendly artists responding to the exhibition. Get gallery details and find nearby bars and restaurants here.