Richard Hull’s recent paintings suggest dreamy divertissements; indeed they seem informed by a sense of childlike wonder and candidness that overwhelms their mysterious brooding quality and tendency toward obfuscation. These pictures have their eerie moments, but their fundamental amiability remains unchecked.

Like children’s fables, Hull’s works frequently revolve around themes of collapsing structure and authority, suggesting that order is simply a thin veneer repressing not only fantasy and wonder but darkness and anarchy as well. For several years Hull has represented structure as images of

Joe Scanlan’s hypothetically useful objects suggest inventions conceived to fulfill certain functions around the home, and their construction implies a thrifty economy based on resourcefulness and recycling. For example, Potting Soil, 1990, is made from a mixture of sawdust, which is a construction by-product of Bookshelves, 1990; egg-shells are a by-product of the whites used to form Starter Pots, 1989–91, and coffee grounds, in this self-referential context, must refer to the fuel that keeps the artist working into the night. Similarly, Kitchen Table Dropcloth, 1990, a neatly tailored canvas