You stand before a woman’s face, her visage twisted by emotion. Her attitude—rendered in a kind of trenchant punk expressionism—fixes you in the present moment, in the heat of an emotional confrontation. Gregory Grenon pushes to an extreme the frontality of his images, denying them the distance and homogeneity that a portrait or narrative reading would afford. He starts by painting on the backside of a sheet of Plexiglas: the details are built up first, then the broader areas of oil are layered in behind. Blues, grays, and greens are striated through the whites of the flesh tones, black through