Amy Yoes’ recent paintings celebrate the mesmerizing language of the Western decorative tradition. Sometimes surprisingly suggestive of the rhythmic tempos of Jackson Pollock’s drip paintings, her canvases churn with visual incidents that overflow the picture plane. But, in a manner completely unlike Pollock’s, Yoes’ images remain firmly entrenched in history, a labor-intensive acquiescence to ornamental pictorial traditions usually overlooked or considered bankrupt. Carefully delineated ruffles and flourishes are at the heart of Yoes’ work: her paintings become labyrinthine mazes of painted