We went yesterday to see Margaret Kilgallen’s works on paper and canvas — some never before exhibited — in the tiny, reverent space of Ratio 3 on Stevenson Street in San Francisco. Down an alley littered with bright hot flowers and discarded couch cushions, the door to Ratio 3 sits hidden behind a wild climbing plant, and inside is a church-like homage to Kilgallen’s intricate, intimate paintings. On torn book backs and stitched-together canvases, her obsessive, perfect leaf teeth, small monsoons of tiny white tears and gentle smirking red lips line the walls — walking past them is an unforgettable conversation with a genius, and each mark looks ordained from above. This work is a rare, private gem that reveals not only the moments of Kilgallen’s days but also the workings of a mind that influenced painting, print art and cultural, emotional aesthetics well beyond the temporal and earthly reach of her short life. The show is up through August 5 here. After you’ve seen it, walk around the corner to Four Barrel, say hi to Brett, and get a cornmeal blueberry donut and a macchiato as you let it all sink in. Something we noticed is that everyone’s face looks like a Kilgallen painting for the next hour or so.