“Open Systems: Rethinking Art c. 1970” was the latest installment in a string of exhibitions dealing with the ’60s and ’70s, many focused on Conceptual art: L’Art conceptuel, une perspective” (Musée d’Art Moderne de la Ville de Paris, 1989); “1965–1975: Reconsidering the Object of Art” (Museum of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles, 1995); “Global Conceptualism: Points of Origin, 1950s–1980s” (Walker Art Center, Minneapolis, 1999); and “Live in Your Head: Concept and Experiment in Britain, 1965–75” (Whitechapel Art Gallery, London, 2000). The first two were monumental surveys. “Global Conceptualism”

Anyone who has visited Trinidad and Tobago—as British-born, Jamaica-descended Hurvin Anderson did before commencing the series of paintings he’s produced over the past couple of years—knows about “liming.” This Caribbean colloquialism has two sides: It’s what locals are doing when languidly propping up the beachside rum bars; it’s what travel brochures say moneyed tourists are up to when firing tennis balls around at the islands’ country clubs. On the evidence of his paintings, Anderson finds lime-time tough. His eye twitchily takes in places that semaphore colonialism (Trinidad and Tobago gained

Lucia Nogueira’s quietly confident drawings occupy the twilight in which reality loosens its hold on the everyday. Many appear to be straightforward experiments in color incorporating elements of Nogueira’s sculptures: gray test tubes, a funnel framed by a smooth ocher brushstroke, a row of colored lines, abstract scribbles, or an ink-soaked page with a thick drip of enamel near its top. As a result, the works’ occasional strangeness takes you by surprise. One column of five yellow blobs has a cartoonish helicopter landing at its top (Untitled, 1995); elsewhere, pearly teeth loom out of the