Aaron Bohrod’s recent small and fetishistic paintings are almost annoying in their unapologetic garishness. Stubborn and overripe, they seem to assault and overcome their viewers. Bohrod’s paintings accrue pictorial elements in near riotous profusion; they skirt the edges of becoming compendia of both observation and mania. But there is authority here despite all of the rococo indulgences, and it rests in Bohrod’s long and remarkable career. He studied with John Sloan in New York in the early ’30s, exhibited work at the Whitney Museum of American Art as early as 1936, and was part of the Carnegie