new-york

Jane Dickson

Brooke Alexander

Beyond the valley of the Stalinist haute-couture philosophical object manufacturers, securely this side of the luxuriously lined abyss and well out of reach of the solipsist documentary tag-team matches sadly engulfing our earnest referees, there is still, undiminished, painting. Not to mention rhythm, melody, soul food, and business as usual.

Beauty is a necessity of life and it always finds its own venues, in art and elsewhere. Sometimes things get too hot for beauty so it has to keep moving before it gets run out of town or the art world. A very popular hair product ad pleads, “Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.” Maybe things are getting hot for beauty in the beauty world now, and that’s why we see a beauty revival in art, where it’s no longer an issue and the heat is off.

But Jane Dickson’s beautiful paintings don’t come out and smack you over the head with it. They present beauty as

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