Hollis Sigler is an unapologetic romantic. Her paintings are openhanded gestures of emotion, pictographs of the dramas played out in the recesses of our hearts. Like some duenna of despair, Sigler squires these over-determined episodes into being. She captures the small moments when the awful and wondrous enormity of what it means to live and to love reveals itself in a flash, when the alienation and disillusionment that are our necessary lot become suddenly palpable. There are no human figures in the 12 small paintings that make up the series entitled “The Angry Heart,” (all works 1989), yet

Chema Cobo’s recent exhibition indicates that he is nervous and uncertain about the future. From his home in southern Spain, he is counting; 1989 marked the bicentennial of the French Revolution, and 1992 will mark both five centuries since Columbus’s voyage to the New World, and the legislated implementation of a United Europe. Cobo is fascinated with the significance of these dates, and his work examines the meanings of history and the forces set loose in its wake. While the next few years should indicate whether Cobo has been prescient or paranoid, particularly as to his fears and apprehensions