Abstract but with glancing references to new technology ad modular design, Bart Exposito’s paintings demonstrate that the hard-edge vernacular has always resonated with the concept of futurity, even the futuristic (which despite its promise of what-has-not-yet-been paradoxically conveys a groovy sci-fi anachronism—Lost in Space meets Esquivel, as in Tracy Morgan’s brilliant Saturday Night Live Astronaut Jones skit). When Exposito’s works succeed, they create dynamic virtual movement and interrogate all aspects of the picture plane, especially the edges. When they fail—as almost all the drawings

There is much to admire about Jennifer Bornstein’s Celestial Spectacular, 2002, a sequence, barely four minutes in length, of seven short silent films, each introduced by a descriptive title in cursive font. Her homemade effects and affect and her poetic deployment of the scientific and pseudoscientific (astronomy, cosmology, botany, parapsychology) refresh, particularly these days, when too many artists ape the lamest aspects of Hollywood (Spielbergian theatricalization) and MTV (ever more speedy editing). The first bit, Meteor Shower, shows the corner of a spare apartment with a large open

The enigmatic scenes in Kelly McLane’s new paint-and-graphite works seem to be forever emerging or disappearing, fading in or out. Like bleached visual parables, recollections, or revelations, the paintings nudge you into a conflicted position, tempted to slip into mellowness but anxious not to miss important clues. In the larger works the atmosphere is subtly broken into rectilinear fragments, as if the image were literally unfolding or falling away in sections before your eyes.

The centerpiece of the show was a massive triptych that pits broad expanses of whitewashed landscape and overcast