Sam Samore literally refuses to identify himself. (“For reasons of privacy,” he concludes his statement in a recent group-show catalogue, “the artist has chosen not to disclose any personal biographical information”). Talk about coy: Samore presented (more like hid) eight snapshots, each cropped to postage-stamp size, on the three walls of the gallery’s huge main room. On the floor-to-ceiling window that constitutes the room’s fourth wall, he printed six panels of text. One must snoop around to discover Samore’s art (all the checklist discloses about the photographs is “no title, no date”), and

In their compositional dynamics, Roy Dowell’s paintings and collages recall the work of the Futurists, yet the pieces in this sprawling exhibit transcend pastiche, utilizing a retinue of Modernist pictorial devices to create an art with a sensibility all its own.

Dowell’s work has long been distinguished by its idiosyncratic incorporation of abstracted figurative details within complicated patternings of color and line. But where his earlier paintings tended to be cautious, both in terms of scale and palette, here one finds an expansive and sophisticated melding of fragments from found magazines,

Tony Greene died of AIDS late last year, and the works in this thoughtfully installed show of more than forty paintings and two sculptural pieces date from 1987 to 1990. Greene’s distinctive palette features florid colors that give the appearance of having been darkened by time—weird hothouse tints that throb beneath multiple layers of colored varnish. Two areas in the exhibition space were painted quintessential “Greene” shades: one a brooding olive, another a gorgeous sore-throat magenta.

Greene’s paintings are square, heavy-looking plywood constructions, with moats between their central image