Each of John Virtue’s “Landscapes,” 1981–85, consists of a set of black-ink drawings, mounted in grid formation with no gaps between them. If the grid is a dissipating force, promoting loss of focus and dispelling any prospect of narrative, it also serves to unify; constituent parts are equal in size, and enough landmarks recur in the drawings to convey the impression that this is a single region, crossed and recrossed continually. Houses—sometimes terraced, but more frequently in isolation—are pictured as entire pictorial units, complete with gates, fences, and paths. The viewpoint is never