In “IT’S OK TO SAY NO!” Bernard Bazile’s position was one of negation colored by paranoia, one meant to place the spectator simultaneously in a state of liberation and uneasy withdrawal. The title and imagery in the show were borrowed from an American manual designed to prevent children from being sexually abused (pictures on carpeting represented the perversity of adult stratagems). Bazile made an effort to place the viewer in a similar atmosphere of insecurity, of diffused stress, finally more familiar than disturbing or provocative. The flashing neon signs, placed outside the museum, evoked

Time in Michel Séméniako’s black and white photographs measures itself not in 60ths of a second but in millennia. “Les Dieux de la Nuit” (The gods of the night), who have lent their name to this exhibition, inhabit the sacred trees of Senegal, the prehistoric menhirs of Brittany, the cliffs of Normandy, the amphitheaters of Naples, the palaces of China, the temples of India. For more than a decade, Séméniako has been seeking out those deities with a large-format camera and an assortment of flashlights. The technique, he points out, could not be more “antitechnological”: he poses the camera on

Formerly a chapel, this gallery was an appropriate venue for Jerzy Kubina’s show, “Ikonostas” ( Iconostasis). An emerging Polish-born artist currently living in New York, Kubina belongs to a group of young artists who fled the political and social turmoil of the ’80s in Eastern Europe to settle in the West.

Kubina’s recent works, usually monumental, three-dimensional paintings—often diptychs or triptychs—on unprimed canvas and tar paper visibly stapled to wooden stretchers, were all entitled Ikonostax and consecutively numbered. In keeping with their titles—an iconostasis is a partition with