broader examination than is possible in the available space, and even then I have to wonder if such a thing would even be possible. Contemplate, for example, the diversity just among the female innovators she championed. They include Ida Applebroog, Deborah Butterfield, Louise Bourgeois, Joan Brown, Sue Coe, Jay DeFeo, Ann Hamilton, Lynn Hershman, Mildred Howard, Judith Linhares, Annette Messager, Joan Mitchell, Alice Neel, Gay Outlaw, Carolee Schneemann, Carrie Mae Weems and Hannah Wilke. Then look at the male contingent. It includes David Ireland, Nayland Blake, Enrique Chagoya, Tom Marioni, Paul Kos, William Allan, Barry McGee, Jess, Jim Melchert, Robert Bechtle and Chris Brown, plus a good many other accomplished artists of both
genders who are today known only to the cognoscenti. Start anywhere and move out in any direction and revelations unfold. Some of the biggest and the best come from the smallest most eccentric works, located in the gallery’s back room. It contains pieces in a variety of media, some of which you could easily miss because they’re situated on the floor. Chief among them are the trio of egg-shaped heads, Man She She (1997) onto which Tony Oursler creepily projects images of talking faces, their voices inaudible unless you cozy up to the pocket-sized projection device. Also at floor-level is the beguiling in which the Pushmi-Pullyu is introduced (1994), a Dadaesque
fabric-and-wood sculpture by Michelle Rollman that posits two sets of animal hindquarters joined at mid-body and facing each other — a visual metaphor for things that can’t or won’t work. (One thinks of the U.S. Congress.) Wedge (2014), a blossom-like wood cone filled with yellow glass and epoxy made by Gay Outlaw, harbors allusions that shift uneasily between organic and kitsch. On a slightly higher pedestal, is Annabeth Rosen’s ceramic sculpture, MAHJAY (2015), a lumpy conical shape with a white confectionary glaze whose associations run to beehives, volcanoes and the early Egyptian tombs known as mastabas. Stranger still is the aorta-shaped plastic sculpture, Untitled #2 (2002) by Jon Paul Villegas that combines fabricated and store-bought hardware. The components, which recall plumbing fixtures, make for a Pop Surrealist take on anatomical models.
stand out. Robert Stone’s untitled work from 2015 is a collision of geometric forms made of glossy pigment; it’s combed in different directions to form a relief painting that looks woven. Joshua Podoll’s, A Welcome End to Knowing #24 (2003), has at its center a large oval shape, abraded to reveal the warp and weft of the canvas. It’s surrounded by blurry leaf images, a contrast that turns the painting into something approaching a symbolist beacon.
Lastly: On the same wall as Hannah, opposite the freestanding one on which Conner’s drawings appear, you’ll find the artist who’s been called the godfather Bad Painting: Charles Garabedian. He’s known mainly for eccentric Neo-Expressionist figurative works. This one, Yellow Temple (2007), is of a rural landscape populated by cinderblock and wood shacks. Painted in Caribbean colors and patched with aluminum foil, it pulls in light and reflects it back at you all at once.