Reified as the officially sanctioned face of modern Korean art in the late 1970s and ’80s, tansaekhwa, which literally translates as “monochrome painting,” recently received a much-needed reassessment. Having run concurrently with “The Art of Dansaekhwa” at Kukje Gallery in Seoul (dansaekhwa is the revised-romanization spelling of the term) and on the heels of a modestly sized show on the same subject at Alexander Gray Associates in New York last spring, “From All Sides” constituted the first large-scale overview devoted to tansaekhwa in the United States. Included were more than forty sizable

I can see you. Perched near a window, looking down on the heat and honk of the sun-bright street or out to the night windows beaming like magic lanterns, you are easily observed. Looking out from their windows, Michel Auder and Józef Robakowski, who record private lives unwittingly played out in public, can see you, too. Close in age but shaped by dramatically different social and political contexts, these artists, perfectly paired by Fahrenheit director Martha Kirszenbaum, keenly observe others with a speculative, subjective eye. Under another’s lingering gaze, your most mundane acts acquire

Last spring, Rachelle Sawatsky mounted five pastel-hued unglazed ceramics and one large, aqueous cerulean canvas to the walls of the Finley Gallery in the Los Feliz neighborhood of Los Angeles. Glimpsed through the street-level windows, the wall sculptures gave an effect of unprepossessing smallness that nevertheless betrayed an abundance of care, perhaps disproportionate to their modest size. The afterimage of these humble objects lingered in “Stone Gloves,” Sawatsky’s first show at Harmony Murphy Gallery. Here, she framed sixteen twenty-one-by-twenty-seven-inch drawings between two larger

The most coherent moments in Frances Scholz’s Trailer I and II, both 2014, ostensibly promo shorts for her as-yet-unmade film Amboy, are recurring snippets of writer (and friend of the gallery) Chris Kraus (re)delivering a lecture she once gave on Jason Rhoades. For Scholz’s project, Kraus has swapped Rhoades’s name for “Amboy,” the documentary’s doubtful subject, a fictional painter “you haven’t heard of”—resulting in phrases intended for Rhoades’s practice but here projected onto Scholz’s prolific every-artist. For example: “It was mostly just a bunch of people hanging around eating and