For the past seven or eight years John Knight’s work has been concerned with design, with the presentation of the image. In a broad sense, that interest is a concern of any visual art, but Knight’s preoccupation is specific. The design he refers to, even aspires to, is “good” design, the sort that follows the words “commercial” or “graphic” or “interior.” And the image he presents is public; opposing itself to the artistic icon, whole and absolute, it packages, masks, and dissembles. Yet the subjects of Knight’s designs, the clients of his campaigns, are situated in the art world, where he forces

The self-assured, soft-spoken style of Richard Tuttle has maintained its identity over the past twenty years, depending more on its casually assertive presence than on any commitment to specific materials, scale, or subject matter. The early works made of paper, wire, and cloth were lean and abstract, vulnerable and self-effacing, yet strangely compelling and intense. As Tuttle remarked some years ago, “To make something which looks like itself is . . . the problem, the solution.” In other words, the work must have its own believable life like that of a natural creature, without resembling one.