Dick pic. Swollen. Pulsating. Vulnerable. Wistful.

Result #1

Her dress is made of thin-brushed lead; her skin has been treated with graphite, her hair is dyed, and her clothing is made of ragged, plaster-and-cement fabric. Still alive. Yet theres no time. Her eyes are closed.The cast-off pieces are in a different mood. The figures look like theyre walking on water. They are either dead or recovering from some horrible trauma, like a zombie. Yet theres a permanence to the figures. Theres no time. No trace of the past. And Im not sure theres any other way to describe these horrible transformations. This is a moment of revelation.

Result #2

Dick pic. Swollen. Pulsating. Vulnerable. Wistful. Residual. And for a man who consistently claims to be able to make it anywhere, he is very much stuck in the past. His painting has been through the wringer of the past decade and a half, and he has yet to recover from the shock of the past decade.Sterling and his work have often been linked to the contemporary artists of the 60s and 70s, but the relationship isnt nearly as clear-cut as one might initially think. A few years back, for example, Sterling exhibited a series of paintings on the floor of the gallery that heavily influenced the work of the Abstract Expressionists. But why the affinity? It could be a response to the current resurgence of interest in contemporary painting, a revival of sorts that is fueled by a revival of interest in the 60s. But then the answer to that question becomes more opaque. By the time he painted the paintings in the 60s, Sterling had already painted a lot of abstract art, which he also had to contend with. He had to wrestle with the impact of Abstract Expressionism and to confront the ideas of abstraction and representation that he felt were implicit in his work. The emphasis on abstraction in the early 60s and early 70s was one of the first signs of the depth of his own artistic thinking, which he carried to the painting. But the abstract work, as he called it, had nothing to do with what he had seen in the 60s. It had nothing to do with the image-objects he had seen in the 60s. Nor was it the real world at all. Sterling, however, knew that painting was all about illusion. He was fully aware of the way in which painting illusions the world. He understood that the illusions were real—that the illusion was what made the world appear real. The illusions were made by the people who make them, not by the illusionists. He did all this to himself. He painted illusions and found them to be beautiful.

Result #3

Delicate. Part of the charm of this works restraint is its total lack of (or lack of) explanatory power. It is as though the artists mind had been made up of these moments, in which the natural and the artificial become a matter of the same kind of logic. The artist is left to his own devices, to his own needs, to his own sensibility. And yet it is precisely these very fears that make one wary of the artist, since they have always been at the root of the artistic process, and they are what give his work its power.

Result #4

You might even say it sounds like a song from the film of the same name. And yet, as in the film, theres a queer sensibility to the work. Deftly witty, slyly funny, and occasionally heartbreakingly poetic, the work in this show continues to surprise and bring to mind the queer and queer-friendly world around it. With their suggestive, allegorical titles and provocative imagery, these paintings are reprises of the cinematic strategies and mediums that have shaped contemporary art. They are in the process of transforming the familiar into the unexpected, and, in the process, at times, the queer into straight.

Result #5

Dick pic. Swollen. Pulsating. Vulnerable. Wistful. Baffled. Schrodinger. This is the art of the last thirty years, to use a phrase used in an article in Artforum in May 1968 that serves as a kind of introduction to this exhibition. Here, too, are works that are, in their own way, as sentimental as they are clear: women's dress, a few paintings by Kenneth Noland, a few small pieces by John-Paul LeCarre. In short, an amazing collection.In the room with the shows most fascinating piece, a work by Noland, the tension between the inarticulate and the formal is not only clear, but palpable. The artist, on the whole, is very much an artist of the 20s, who knows the trick of making the formal feel like the unconscious. The piece in the show, by LeCarre, is an elegantly abstract piece, an abstract, almost abstract painting, of a women dressed in a suit. The expressionist contours and accent are like those of an innocent, naive painting teacher. But he does not attempt to seduce the spectator into feeling as a child, as a naïve child should. Instead, he assumes the role of an artist with a firm, concrete sense of the world.The ambiguity of the Noland work is reflected in the design of the work, which seems to be a bit too abstract, but also in the rich, beautiful colors and the light and dark hues that distinguish the works. In LeCarre, the abstractness of the design is more explicit; the color is more conscious of its intention. LeCarre seems to be saying that the simple patterns he uses to divide the surface of a surface, to make it look like wood, are not so simple after all. In this way, he may be saying that the abstract pattern is a real abstraction—that he can give the surface the formal significance it needs. The color, too, is very deliberate, a skillful control.