Alan Saret is usually associated with the so-called post-Minimalist generation of sculptors that emerged in the mid to late ’60s and included Lynda Benglis, Richard Serra, Robert Smithson, Keith Sonnier, Eva Hesse, and Richard Tuttle. Whereas the Minimalists explored the contingent relationship of fixed objects to surrounding space, this younger group tended to eschew objecthood in favor of ephemerality. Instead of permanent objects in gestaltlike relationships to fixed spaces, they produced transient works that could be set up according to written instructions, taken down, packed away, and

Twenty small photographs and paintings—some of clouds and some of an old California mission—presented in identical tasteful walnut frames, resurrect a conversation between painting and photography that in any sense but a historical one is decidedly tired. To point out that photography is no less a dispassionate register of objective truth than painting, hardly constitutes a revelation at this juncture.

Jim Morris’ photographs of the mission are astonishingly beautiful. Some of them boast painterly effects that result from layering several negatives on top of each other; corrosive streaks, stormy

Nancy Andrews, Emma Elizabeth Downing, and Michael Willis, recently joined by Jonathan Gorrie, are the eccentric, decidedly unsheeplike minds behind Lambs Eat Ivy. In a quasi-backwoods style, the Lambs perform foot-stomping nouveau folk songs, with lyrics chock full of pancultural transcendentalism. Self-described as “Appalachian Zen” or “Mystic Hillbilly Theater,” they draw on sources that include the Tibetan Book of the Dead, Baptist sermons, and Native American folklore. The Lambs’ slightly warped, hoedown sound is heightened by vocalist Downing, whose otherworldly warbling weds a Dolly Parton