New York

Amy Sillman

Brent Sikkema

Amy Sillman’s reputation has grown with each new show. Though she simmered in obscurity for (by her reckoning) at least ten years, this was also time to experiment and explore, to adopt and hone a range of techniques. That decade keeps paying off: Her latest exhibition, “I am curious (yellow),” featured apparently tossed-together works of real substance and panache. She’s prolific, too: “I am curious” included six large-scale paintings, a wall full of gouaches, and Letters from Texas, 2003, a chain of sixteen panels forming a loose narrative along two walls.

Sillman’s flavors are her colors: Tasty, unstoppably cheery buttercreams, citrus yellows, saffron oranges, cotton-candy pinks, and mint-ice-cream greens are backed by blues and whites that themselves glow with hues from beneath. Should one swoon over this palette or salivate? Either way, its gastronomic-domestic associations assure a

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