Since the 1960s, Drexler has continued to make powerful art and to go her own way.
It has been two years since Patrick Strezelec had his first exhibition of sculptures in New York in more than a decade.
I wonder if the reason Rosalyn Drexler isn’t better known is because she is so good at so many different things. We recognize such mastery in men, but rarely in women.
There is something wonderfully incongruous and deeply disquieting about Gladys Nilsson’s art, which is primarily done in the medium of watercolor.
Matthew Palladino’s gallerist calls his new works paintings, but one wonders whether that label is given partly for simplicity’s sake: They are paintings but also sculptural reliefs. They are illusionistic but also real.
As much as Howardena Pindell’s unstretched paintings and drawings share something with the Pattern and Decoration movement, or with monochromatic abstraction, color field painting, all-over painting, fiber art, the counting work of Roman Opalka, and the spot paintings of Larry Poons, what elevates them above all of these aesthetic and stylistic connections is her subtle infusion of a deep and palpable rage.
You never know when a work of art might become part of your DNA, the visceral memory of which you carry around with you, even if you seldom have occasion to think about it.