Mariel Herring on Chuta Kimura

Imagine if de Kooning and Matisse painted a landscape together, and maybe Bonnard was their professor/mentor? That’s ya boi Kimura.

Suzanne Unrein on Henri Rousseau

His mane strangely blows forward on a windless night, while his eye appears as a mesmerizing orb that plays off the moon and mandolin.

Patrick McDonough on Benjamin Edwards

Entering the studio with “Justin” was an unforgettable kind of magic, like passing through a Super Nintendo game portal where the colors and the physics forever change. 

Barry Nemett on Robert Rauschenberg

All looked pleasant enough near the foot but, like a dramatic plot twist, everything closer to the bed’s head looked war-torn, tortured.

Heide Fasnacht on Martin Kippenberger

The gizmo he depicts with slapdash but accurate strokes of orange and red is reasonable, yes, but dissolves into the vagaries of emotional weather; it does not add up to the logical structure it pretends to be.

Ruth Marten on Paul Caranicas

He’s condensed a mall into a theatre set, flattening the rich detail into a sort of Greek chorus to serve the dumb central gun shop.