Often using his trademark capitals, Weiner takes fragments of stories, slogans and poems and presents them as cryptic clues. These have been written in charcoal on gallery walls, printed on beer mats and even painted onto a chocolate factory. The results are romantic, words of hope lingering in places of desolation, words of intimacy written on the walls of an institution. Here he takes an old sea shanty that tells of freedom on the high seas. Passed through generations, it has never been written down, and Weiner's attempt to document the correct words is an impossible endeavour.Jessica Lack