The walls are abloom with cola red delights, bon-bons of the soul abound. The shapes are unshaped by freedom flowing from the heart-they lilt, they squeak, they scamper, and at times they just sit and jiggle. The colors, light as a breath, clear as a whistle, sassy as a jay, and sometimes ripe, roam the walls. The words—psalms and sayings and parts of poems—file through the colored forests, or duck around the corner just in the nick of time, or glide by with a dignity that is unmindful of all the din. Sister Mary Carita has fielded a team of sprites that say words with pictures that pop questions and each one is an enactment of her own particular, playful celebration. More and more her work defies the usual critical handles, not because it is beyond art in the sense of configuration—she is an enthusiastic borrower of forms—but because her impulse to express soars weightlessly above problems of style. Her mission seems to be to surprise us into awakening to delight, using our eyes like pleasantly greedy children. In these works she does not insist we also use our minds.

—Doug McClellan