This is my last NYC dispatch. Off to Chicago, the city of big shoulders, the second city, the windy city, the art world’s weird cousin. But as I mentioned the last column, future columns will indeed focus on Chicago’s splintered art scene, and I promise, I’ll try, try to make nice. When I hit the road again for work in the fall, I’ll report on the underground and independent art scenes in the Midwest. My new territory will cover Ohio, Indiana, Wisconsin, Minnesota and Iowa and I’ll ferret out the good shit in the heartland in a way that Larry Rinder and his Whitney cronies never seem able to do. Meanwhile, I’ve digested a crap load of art recently and will try to regurgitate it for you. But before I do that, I must indulge in a little self-promotion: I’ve organized a show, Sensitized Shopping, at the Silicon Gallery in DUMBO that opens on May 22. It features Heidi Cody, Adriane Herman and Jennifer Schmidt. Click here for more info. In addition to seeing the kick-ass art, it’ll be your last chance to hock a loogie at me before I move to fly-over land.

There are a number of themes running through these reviews - were I a better writer I might have found a way to better contextualize these ideas. Instead, I’ll just list the themes and let you find them as they occur: digital art once removed, art-about-art, xeroxes, art and the everyday, interior decorating and painting as form and structure. Well, after reviewing the column I did make a limpid attempt at organizing some of these themes, but they overlap within separate shows. And there is some weird semi-tirade about digital art down there. I apologize in advance. It makes no sense (Yet…I’m leaving it in there. Strange. And lame) And I apologize again - some of these reviews are too damn long. Not that I'm actually improving my writing style nor am I'm using nuance and actual consideration for artist intentions - I'm just too damn wordy this week and too lazy to parse and snip.

And I must apologize to Zak Smith: a couple columns ago I doubted the veracity of his galleries claims. Zak assured me (and I'm doing a studio visit this week to confirm) that he can draw and paint and doesn't need to paint over the top of photos (not that there is anything wrong with that in my book).

The Drawing Center, Soho
Ellsworth Kelly - Tablet
Sarah Oppenhiemer - Hallway
The Drawing Center may be the best space in NYC. From exposing kick-ass unknown, er, emerging artists in their Selections shows to giving established artists like Ellen Gallagher the opportunity to investigate a new medium (all the while maintaining an expanded view of drawing) to illuminating historical shows like the knock-out James Ensor, the Center continues to delight. Ellsworth Kelly’s seemingly simplistic minimalism is difficult for lots of folks, from laypeople who say "My kid can do that" to grad students who feel his brand of minimalism is boring and passé. Me, I love the guy. His art is joyous and generous, yes simple, but with subtly sexy shapes and a passion for pure, democratic color. This show of doodles, er, sketches on scraps of paper, envelopes, napkins, newsprint and magazines show his working process, shows how he finds his enigmatic shapes. The most interesting of these scraps are his interventions with media images - how he finds essential shapes and form in images of bridges, people, sailboats, advertisements, what have you. These drawings were doubtfully not created with the viewer in mind but were produced much like, if not outright, doodles. They fascinate as documents of process but also work as "finished" drawings as well as they demonstrate Kelly's remarkable, almost insouciant draftsmanship. I can imagine folks saying "this dude can really draw, why don’t he do it all the time." He does occasionally. Try to check out his sexily minimal flower drawings if you get the chance.

Oppenheimer's "Hallway" across the street in the Drawing Room was a cool intervention in its own right. She (almost) seamlessly inserted a layer of cardboard into the wall, then folds it at perforations so that the wall becomes a series of modular physical panels that be folded into a variety of combinations. Besides relating to architecture, modernism, the Bauhaus and Ikea, it's also a great way to fuck with the white cube.

The Passions of the Good Citizen at Apex Art, Soho
A critical and politically motivated show that’s surprising visual. Curator Heather Felty aims to investigate how we represent ourselves by identifying with material objects, brands and other commercially derived ideas and detritus. Well, at least one piece was visually exciting - amid the ubiquitous videos and dreary photos rests a dynamite Michael Bevilacqua painting. While still representing with commercial signifiers like Gucci logos and band and celebrity names, he introduces some expressionistic looseness. Not brushy expressionism - still superflat - but the lines are liquid and wavy and funky and they make a nice contrast to his trademark sleekness.

Marian Roth at June Bateman, Soho
Groovy pinhole photographs marred by cheesy presentation: Roth converted her van into a pinhole camera and photographed beach scenes and forestscapes and old ramshackle shacks. Like Steven Pippin, but less conceptually pretentious and much more trippy. Unfortunately she hung unframed prints with magnets on ugly slabs of folded aluminum, or printed images of the shacks on rag paper with hokey deckled edges or framed the forest images in banal, frame-shop-at-the-Tri-County-Mall-in-suburban-Cincinnati (I can mock Cincy since that’s where I’m from) frames. I know that back-mounting photos to plexi or front-mounting on aluminum gets a bit tired in show after show in Chelsea, but sometimes, and in this occasion, a photo needs straightforward presentation.

Demonclownmonkey at Artists Space, Soho
Jerry Saltz-hype non-withstanding, this was a pretty cool show, especially Karen Leo’s video “Himrod Now” which I’ve actually watched twice. Twice! Me and a 24 minute video and two times, just doesn’t happen! The protagonist, for no apparent reason, wears a cable knit, head to freaking toe, Bruce Willis costume. He jogs, makes art, dances to classic Kansas songs, kills his cat, yells at the ice cream trucks and has a sock monkey grow from his head. I have no idea what it meant, but it sure was funny and affecting. Also engaging is David Altmeld’s installation: 4 disgusting quartz-encrusted werewolf and a poorly constructed plexiglass structure on a bi-level platform that combines “An American Werewolf in London” with haute-couture department store display with post-post-minimalist sculpture: fascinatingly hideous and beautiful. I’m not as high on Scott Grodesky paintings as Saltz is but they are weird and idiosyncratic and different-looking enough. That is they held my interest for more than 5 seconds, which is more than most representational paintings do.

Carolanna Parlato at OH+T, Boston
Almost too beautiful paintings (like dangerously close to interior decorator or frame store art - a tension that I find riveting in a painting. See my review of Dennis Hollingsworth in HC4) that seem to employ chance operations of pouring paint onto a flat canvas. Puddles, rivers and rivulets of pure, goofy color commingle but rarely mix - she's a painter much like Chicago's amazing David Kaiser (see this months New Art Examiner) who revels in the magic of reticulation. Imagery be damned (they look vaguely like topographic maps), I'm a sucker for process abstractions.

David Burrows at Frederieke Taylor, Chelsea
Burrows employs many of the same color sensibilities of Parlato - pinks, purples, toxic greens and oranges - but in cut foam and rubber. His sculptures (which are really 3-d pop floor paintings) also employ an all-over AbEx structure but his imagery is not abstract. Seemingly humorous, considering the material and color, these piece depict violent scenes like car crashes (the show is titled "Modern Domestic Disasters"), much like Tom Friedman's cut paper self-portrait. Unlike that piece, Burrow's work doesn't seem to be as impressed with itself (if inanimate object can actually have those sorts of feelings). Elegant as abstractions, disturbing as depictions, Burrows mines satisfyingly contradictory impulses.

Danica Phelps at LFL, Chelsea
I wrote a piece in my undergrad art department newsletter in 1990 excoriating fellow students for their conduct in critiques, particularly in the usage of the word “neat.” Back then I felt too many classmates when coerced to speak in class would say about so-and-so’s drawing “I like it, it’s neat.” This I found unacceptable, ridiculous, unintelligent. I was a pompous ass. Now, I’m happy, thrilled, ecstatic to come out of a show saying, “I liked it. It’s neat.” Danica Phelps show was real neat! (“Real” is an adverb I’m having major problems with in today’s world, but I’ll save that rant for later. Who the fuck do I think I am? Bill Safire?) Seriously, it was neato, rad, cool - she went to every damn show in the metro area last season and set up a hypothetical game that we all do in galleries and museums - if you could afford it, which piece would you buy. Phelps set up a NCAA-March-Madness-tournament system where she’d whittle down her pieces of choice. What we viewers see are intricate and delicate documentations on large sheets of rag paper - drawings, I suppose, along with inkjet prints of surreptitious digital photos of the artworks in competition. Phelps also clipped every review, blurb, and listing for the shows that contained the work she was interested in. These clippings are taped to one another and stacked onto a clipboard, which is then mounted to the wall. I wanted one of these pieces. But nooo, I couldn’t buy one even if I could actually afford it. The drawings, photo collages, clippings were all one piece and there were 5+ of these installations, each accounting for that round of shopping. The installation was too crowded. Her process looked laborious and fascinating, but not necessarily fascinating enough to spend the hours needed to figure it all out. It’s a little daunting, and messy with a controlled sort of chaos. One complaint (isn’t there always one) and it’s a usual gripe: This kind of project could not possibly have been executed if one has a job. I hope I’m mistaken. I hope she has a shit job like most of us artists. This project obviously took up so much time - viewing and dissecting every show in NYC - I feel overwhelmed thinking about it. I mean, good for her if she doesn’t have to go to a shit job. I’m just jealous once again. Anyways, it was super neat!

Jonathan Calm at Caren Golden, Chelsea
So I’m in the gallery, browsing the artist resume info, when the actor and comedian David Alan Grier asked the dunderhead behind the desk who was all-too consumed with licking stamps and affixing them to postcards, if he could see a bio for the artist. The lunk, who didn’t look like your usual stylish and indifferent Chelsea desk jockey, nonetheless indifferently replied, “Uh, if they aren’t up there, I guess we don’t have one.” On one level, this made me very happy, that the rich and powerful are treated just as shabbily as us littles. Alternately it made me angry that a business would treat a potential customer with such indifference - my god, here’s some who could actually afford the art on the wall - kiss his ass. Anyway, Calm makes intriguing video/animations documentation his housing project neighborhood in Brooklyn. They were elliptical, elusive in meaning, and had a weird documentary/Russian constructivist aesthetic and he is an artist to watch. Chairs or those neat rolling stools from Dia’s Nauman installation would’ve been nice. See Charlie Finch’s rant about video installation at artnet.com

Giles Lyons at Feature, Chelsea
Rockin’ and randy abstractions. Cartoony, excrementy, colorful, weird, exuberant and seemingly hand-painted. Seriously one of the best painting shows this reporter has seen in a long. I was even inspired to collaborate with Lyons’ epic radiating ties painting:

photo by Yumi Roth

Oskar Kokoschka at Neue Gallerie, Upper East Side
Portraiture sure ain't my bag, be it in painting or photography but I've got a weak spot for Austrian Expressionists and some of these portraits were quite haunting. The show was also interesting as a historical look at the artistic and intellectual elite in this fertile period of Viennese life at the beginning of the century. And this museum - so fucking elegant! This how show art with class.

Olafur Eliasson at MOMA
A simple gesture that confounds your surroundings - Eliason installed mirror-striped panes of glass on the back wall, which normally looks out into the Sculpture Garden. The stripes were roughly an inch or two apart, so you could see outside and your reflection at the same time. Well you couldn't really - you had to concentrate to see outside and even then you keep seeing your reflection and the reflected interior of MOMA. I found it sweet - seeing inside and outside simultaneously and I love the romantically unadorned title "See Yourself Sensing."

Loopy Painting on 22nd St., Chelsea
Sue Williams at 303
Brice Marden at Matthew Marks
Arturo Herrera at Brent Sikkema
David Reed at MAx Protech
So there's a shitload of painting in Chelsea right now. Fun for me, but maybe not for you video-theory-performance-conceptual-political types out there. Of course, not all of it is good. On 22nd street we get four varieties of painters who use loopy, swirling, sensual lines on flat, often uninflected grounds: 2 are good, one so-so and one sucky.

We start with the so-so, then dip down into the suckpit and pop back for the good stuff:

Since Sue Williams drained the sex from her work I've become much less interested. That said, her paintings are handsome - starting with a gorgeous white ground she uses bright, cheery colors in simple long gestures - cerulean blues, cheery oranges and a myriad of pinks. The pink painting, with its layered swirls of multi-hued pinks, was my fave - I'm a sucker for pink. But I can't help thinking these paintings are vacuous in a bad, late-DeKooning way. In back were some elegant cartoony drawings done in black ink on colored paper (or maybe vellum) that harkens back to her sexual abstractions, which looked like simplified, duo-chrome, Disney-fied Pollocks - the empty skeins of line might elucidate a hose jammed into an asshole or many a naughty bit, male and female.

Brice Marden's problem is not necessarily his imagery, though it's a bit tired, nor is it the surface, which is fine if a bit fussy and romantic, it's his palate, which looks like someone puked up Autumn. Fugly oranges, barky browns, crusty blues and pissy yellows flirt ever-so-tight against the edge of the canvas while looping and twisting and dancing with each other. Made me want to puke. Even worse are the drawings made with a stick in the back room - the ugliest primaries ever flitting over a slate ground. This man used to make the most sensual minimalist paintings ever, that succeeded mostly due to their sublime surfaces but also to his subdued palate. His color sensibilities have now gone to pot.

Abstractions a la Disney could be the title of Arturo Hererra's show - he fragments and recombines early-era Disney film stills and comic books, especially Snow White and the Seven Dwarves in his looping drawings and collages. There's a ton of work in this show - 5 or 6 large graphite drawing, an intoxicating grid of smaller drawings that ripely investigate positive and negative space (and would make a nice template for a coloring book) and a ton of 8x10 collages hung in a row limning the west wall of the space and yet, it doesn’t feel crowded or suffocating like the Danica Phelps show did. The collages, like Kelly's show at the Drawing Center could read as a glimpse into the working process but that might sell them short. They are glorious little treasures that they are. He often starts with a page (or scan) from a comic book and obscures the imagery with a splash of paint, or piece of collage from another comic. The best pieces are the obscurest - sure it's cool to spot Daffy or Scrooge McDuck here and there but I feel his work is best when it's investigating negative and empty spaces. Which is what his drawings do - at a glance, they depict a mass or web of lines that get denser towards the center - closer examination reveals the second hand nature of the lines - if they weren't lifted from a comic source, they sure look like it. They are drawing with a capital D, with grand gesture, romantic erasing and searching which makes it all the more fun that they reproduce Disney mass-produced lines. It's fun to spot a dwarves bootie every now and again.

Maybe the curator at Max Protech planned this, but I liked the serendipitous placing of David Reed's primarily pink #483 paralleled Sue Williams pink painting next door at 303. Reed's up to his same old tricks, but what glorious tricks - splashing swirls of rapturous paint mimicking waves, river rapids, AbEx paintings. His color combos for the most part were right on except for one mostly purple painting that was quite bold in it's hideousness. The pinks, browns, whites, and blues generally danced in perfect harmony.

Digital Art, once removed
D-L Alvarez at Derek Eller, Chelsea
Jerry Phillips at Feature, Chelsea
Carl Fudge at Ronald Feldman, Soho

Idealistically, I'd like to divorce medium from idea and concentrate on the ideas at play. You might say that I'd be a hypocrite in that I discuss a whole of ton of painting. I might retort that I'm interested in process-based abstraction as an idea, not a medium. I'm not interested in digital art as an idea or a medium. I am interested in it's possibilities. But I am a hypocrite. I do find navel-gazing painting about painting appropriate. I often find myself all dismissing all kinds of genres and types of art - video stinks, photography sucks, computer art ugh, landscape painting, portraiture, political art - it's all dreadful. In those kinds of works, I do look for the ideas at play - the current show I've organized is all digital printmaking and I'm doing a photo show later this year - so I'm trying to reconcile my bias against these things. Again, I have no idea where I'm going with this. Major digression aside, these three artists (may or may not) use the computer as part of the process, yet they still use their hands in creating the work. The work's look and structure makes comments on the digital process but the hand-drawn or painted output negates any techno-hipness associated with a lot of digital. And dis is gud.

D-L Alvarez’ wall drawing, rendered in duct tape reminded me of Missile Command, the ancient video game in its depiction of a pixelized explosion. An adjacent graphite drawing explosively spells out “Heavy Metal” in a Gothic font in a low resolution, heavily pixilated manner. It’s totally rockin’ dude!

Jerry Phillips evocative drawings mimic the blurring and softening effects of Photoshop filters and also of crappy copiers. The imagery is all over the place - train wrecks, birds, head shots, a dense web that could either be a pile of antlers or a bowl of noodles that - yet they all have a wistful, somewhat otherworldly quality

Carl Fudge has finally dropped all pretense of romantic oil painting in his computer generated imagery. I’ve always dug his sleek screenprints. He puts his images (here Transformers, the toys and cartoon heroes, not the electrical devices) through some fractalating computer manipulations, then realizes the final work in sublime colors with solid black outlines into what could be best described as anime stained glass. In past paintings, the brushiness and semi-lush oil colors were ham-fisted and incongruous especially considering the process and imagery. In this show, the paintings look like his screen prints and if they aren’t screen prints on canvas then he’s wielding a mad exacto knife with some intricate masking tape. And to differentiate them from the lurid screenprints, he keeps the canvases mostly duo-chrome, the image one color, with black outlines on a flat colored ground.

Linda Besemer at Cohan Leslie Browne, Chelsea
My friend Emily said this show reminded her she needed to buy new towels. I usually think it’s good when art makes one think of something so prosaic, something outside of “art.” And I like her work, but I don’t dig her usual presentation system - the towel rack. She makes a rare innovation in the world of stripe painting - she paints on both sides. Day-glo, super-slick-finish-fetish, high key thin bands of color painted on glass, peeled off and then folded over the sleekest towel rack ever so you can see both sides of the painting. While the towel rack enables the paintings to exist in both a 2-d and 3-d realm and they do, as evidenced by Emily’s comment bring painting into the everyday, but for me, it’s too high-end everyday. Not Ikea everyday, but my-interior-decorator-went-with-the-Phillippe-Stark-bathroom-fixtures style of everyday. Too stylish. My fave in this show was one that looked like a large beach towel, mounted directly to the wall. It’s too big for the wall so it piles up on the floor and it curls up ever so slightly from the wall so we only get a glimpse of the back-side painting. A bold move, considering the time these dimensional stripe paintings take, to only show a smidgen of that labor. And it’s a crime that this is her first New York show - this Californian been investigating the structure of paint for years - she was in the Whitney two years ago. Why are NYC galleries so reticent to show LA painters?

Walter Andersons at Ten-in-One, Chelsea
Andersons’ facility with the brush is so awe-inspiring that I imagine many viewers wishing he’d put his talents to greater use than to mimic ages-old Xeroxes and mimeographs, but I don’t. I love that grittiness of smudged toner. But then again, I loved that grittiness in Warhol prints of Elvis and electric chairs and in old conceptualists text pieces - so what exactly is Andersons doing new aside from some nifty paint handling? Anderson’s subject matter is art history, particularly how most of us interact with art, via reproduction. I go back and forth about art-about-art: is it ok in that art is such a rarified and specialized field, a field that one need years of training to understand, so that navel-gazing explorations in the history and development of art are a valid form of research? OR is it just boring navel gazing and a symptom of all that is wrong with art, art that needs years of specialized training and reams of explanatory text to possibly understand it? I dunno. That said - the vertical bands of primary and secondary colors in these paintings are real ugly. And I’m using the word “ugly” was too often.

Peter Halley at Mary Boone, Chelsea
Halley’s paintings have never looked better; although they are the same damn painting he’s been doing for 20 years. He and his assistants have finally found the perfect formula. That said, some of them get lost in the garish wallpaper he’s plastered all over the walls - each wall has a different design, some better than others. In fact, the wallpaper would’ve looked better without the paintings and vice-versa.

Pat Steir at Cheim & Reid, Chelsea
“Hi, my name is Pat Steir and I’ve been painting the same painting for 40 years. Thank you.”

Pedro Velez at Bronx River Art Center, the Bronx
Velez mines a delicious contradiction - difficult but endearingly generous conceptual art, that is not art-about-art but about wishful thinking, hope and imagination. It’s visually difficult too - I can imagine a layperson walking in and saying, “What the hell is this?” but hopefully one will give the work a second look as generously as Pedro makes it. The first piece is a cassette tape L-hooked to the wall with “Heavy Metal Mix” scrawled on the label paired with an 8x10 flier with a gritty, poorly xeroxed image of a boom box and a listing of the bands on the tape: Pantera, Deftones, Megadeth, Slayer. Sounds rockin’! And Pedro will tape this mix for you if you send him a cassette. Gawd I love this piece. I love mix tapes, heavy metal, bad xeroxes and pumping up everyday acts into art. And sharing. Making a tape is interacting with culture on a personal level, a fun, often carefully considered act of curating that anyone can do. And curating is best when it's an act of sharing. At least that’s how I view it when I organize a show - I’m all like, “Hey dude, check out these cool artists.” Not, “Aren’t I a visionary thinker?” I don’t think Pedro is saying here “My mix tape is the best, I’m really cool” I think he’s saying, “Hey man, check these bands out. Don’t they fucking rock?!” And, “You can do (and do do this) this too!” Other pieces include a series of postcards, like show invitations, with curious grouping names like David Robbins, Damien Hirst, Julia Child and/or the McLaughlin Group. More of this personal intersection of culture, Pedro utilizes wishful thinking to dream that art, TV, politics and day-to-day life can all commingle, outside of their niche audiences. On the opposite wall is a series called “Cute Girls,” photos not taken by Pedro of his friends who happen to be, yes, cute girls. Another wishful thinking piece - I mean what hetero guy wouldn’t want to associate himself with cute girls - that is also slyly subversive, pinpricking the role of the curator, who has the “power” to pick one beautiful object over another. It’s a slippery piece, alternately hopeful, chiding, sexy and piggish. Another difficult piece is a floor sculpture - a shoddily constructed ramped platform made from Styrofoam (like a retarded Richard Rezac sculpture) supporting a large blow-up of a publicity still of Milton Berle complete with an autograph. It’s difficult visually because it’s so shoddy and seemingly intentionless and it’s title is difficult too, but damn funny if you don’t take such things too seriously: “Untitled Jewish Sculpture.”

5x5 at Whitney Museum of American Art at Phillip Morris
Five hipster artists chose five elders in a desultory show. It was my first visit to the Whitney at Phillip Morris and was mostly depressed by the space - a small ugly square. Why would either of these institutions put their name on something so uninspiring? I was also disappointed that Phillip Morris doesn't set out of bowls complementary smokes and mac-n-cheese.

Painting Matter at James Cohan Gallery, 57th St.
I was interested in this show as it purported to investigate process-based painting, a weakness of mine that I confessed to earlier. It's a show that does no one any favors - each artist showed one unsurprising work, and a smallish one at that. Although the roster was impressive (Apfelbaum, Artschwager, Calame, Hirst, Marioni, Paine, Patterson, Richter, Ryman, Stockholder, Warhol and Welling) it'd be nice if they had thrown in a lesser-known name.

Phillip Guston at Susan Sheehan Gallery, 57th St.
I have a torturous relationship with printmaking and am especially leery of big-name artists pimping the print process but Guston got it right. His late-cartoony style is perfect fit for lithography where you draw directly on a stone with a greasy crayon. Handsome, impressive work.

Roberta and Jerry
Does anyone find it hilarious to see Roberta Smith extolling Chelsea’s virtues as a tourist destinatination the NYT Travel section this weekend just after Jerry Saltz’ screaming about Chelsea as the evil of all that’s wrong with the art world?

And Claudine - you're gonna miss the NINJA

More Self-promotion
Hey look, someone wrote about my work for a change:
The Boston Phoenix
retro-rocket.com

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“I was looking a job, then I found a job and heaven knows I'm miserable now”

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Respond to this blather

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HC14
Spring 2002
My big move to the city of Big Shoulders, Jack Featherly, Su-en Wong, Andrew WK, Lists, ShitBeGone and tons more....
HC13
Early Spring 2002
Lots o'Art: Richter, the Armory Show + tons o' gallery shows: Neo-Grunge art, Paul Henry Ramirez, Type A and more on J-HOVA.
HC12
Valentine's Day 2002
Way too much info on my TV watching habits, plus Danielle Tegeder, Brad Tucker and art in Boston and much, much more...
HC11
Best of 2001
Moulin Rouge, Mulholland Drive, Missy Elliot, Jay-Z, James Ensor, Wayne Thiebaud, Radiohead, System of a Down redux
HC10
Thanksgiving from Hawaii
Serra, Pardo, Katz, Coen Brothers all suck. Grabner, Sienna, Prekop, Jay-Z all rock
HC9
Early Fall 2001
The Onion, Rodney Graham, Jim Lambie, Larry King, Music Movie Sundays, sucking up to Jerry Saltz and stuff...
HC8
Early Fall 2001
Skinny actresses, Fall Previews, Hair metal (again), and some other crap...
HC7
Late-Summer 2001
Chicago Art, Radiohead, Tony Kornheiser, another David E. Kelley rip and more...
HC6
Summer 2001
Wane Thiebaud, Printmaking, movies, more summer shows and more...
HC5
Summer 2001
Summer Shows, Paul McCarthy, Me, My Sister and more...
HC4
Spring 2001
James Ensor, Ennui, Journey, New Art Examiner and more...
HC3
Late Winter 2001
Dawson's Creek, Jessica Stockholder, David Salle, Albums of the Year and more...
HC2
Early Winter 2000
riffs on rock-Roll Singles, the West Wing, Bernard Frieze and more...
HC1
Fall 2000
The dirt on Damien Hirst, Jibangus, Cable TV and more...

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