“Twenty Years of Painting: 2001–2021” was the first show of Francesco Clemente’s work in Los Angeles in almost two decades. (The artist’s last outing, an elegiac 2003 Gagosian presentation that spanned New York and LA, offered a selection of then-recent works that conspicuously absented the human figure—a resonant meditation on loss.) Here, in a decommissioned and vacated Depression-era post office in Santa Monica, thirty pieces were spread across some fifteen thousand square feet of exhibition space. The spare Moderne interior, all rose marble and stained wood, supplied a surprisingly pitch-perfect

Susan Cianciolo’s second solo show at Overduin & Co.—“Transmission of energy from celestial alignment with galactic center: Run 13 Collection”—was as sprawling, intricate, and multidimensional as its title indicated. Across three separate spaces, visitors encountered the artist’s new Run 13 clothing collection; a selection of “costumes” (as Cianciolo refers to them) from the archive of Run lines, which viewers could browse on rolling racks; a room hung with mixed-media-on-canvas works, mostly from 2020; several 2D and 3D tapestry pieces that were made last year; a mobile; a healing station; and

Over the considerable course of her career, Canadian artist Lynne Marsh, who is still largely unknown in the United States, has produced just a few projects, all highly ambitious and meticulously realized. Four of these were included in “Who Raised It Up So Many Times,” a tightly executed survey of Marsh’s work, curated by Kimberli Meyer. Everything in this presentation seems to converge around a complex meditation on the nature—or, perhaps better, the character—of our gestures, especially those that we consider to be the most spontaneous, expressive, and free but that on second pass disclose

Helen O’Leary’s painting/sculpture hybrids assert their presence in an ambiguous zone between two and three dimensions, embodying a lyrical yet fierce waste-nothing resourcefulness that appears at first to be the perfect response to pandemic-era isolation. Her bricoleur’s gift for making something out of nothing—for using every tiny scrap available, including bits of older artworks—actually goes back much further. Born and raised in Ireland, O’Leary attended the School of the Art Institute of Chicago in the 1980s and has been teaching at Pennsylvania State University, University Park, since

Helen O’Leary’s painting/sculpture hybrids assert their presence in an ambiguous zone between two and three dimensions, embodying a lyrical yet fierce waste-nothing resourcefulness that appears at first to be the perfect response to pandemic-era isolation. Her bricoleur’s gift for making something out of nothing—for using every tiny scrap available, including bits of older artworks—actually goes back much further. Born and raised in Ireland, O’Leary attended the School of the Art Institute of Chicago in the 1980s and has been teaching at Pennsylvania State University, University Park, since