Untitled, 2020–21, a canvas by the late Kaari Upson (1970–2021), depicts a huddled mass of frenetic, layered brushstrokes heaped atop a red-gingham-covered picnic table. Looking closely at the swarming field of rainbow-hued marks, a viewer gradually made out various Upson symbols: yellow braided hair, a plaid shirt, a dismembered limb—emblems that also flicker across the other twenty-one paintings and pair of sculptures on view in the gallery’s upstairs space. This body of work, made during the pandemic, examined psychoanalytic themes familiar from the artist’s oeuvre: twinning and repetition,

Throughout his nearly five-decade-long career, James Welling has produced straightforward photographs of architecture, modern dance, and the artist’s (specifically, Andrew Wyeth’s) studio, in addition to creating studies of texture and light and photograms of floral arrangements, among other things. His is a careful and at times safe sort of experimentation that reconsiders the materiality, spatiality, and chromaticism of his chosen medium via tasteful compositions. Rarely, however, has the artist’s aesthetic tinkering generated such refreshingly unexpected and delightfully odd images as those

Myriad specimens grow within the confines of Autumn Ramsey’s pictures, forming tangled networks that coalesce in strange harmony. Among the painter’s cultivars are bizarre blooms of rippling chevrons, foliage of striped ribbons, and vagrant curlicues in lurid colors. She also propagates hybrids of light, transparency, hue, and texture, often allowing such elements to cascade into abstraction. See, for instance, in End Paper, 2022, how the rainbow-haloed starburst of light toward the painting’s upper left corner glints through a hole of pure white, illuminating a nearby twig and making the hazy