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To the audience it may have seemed like Arthur Dodd was watching angels—at least that's how his mother used to describe Arthur's long preoccupations staring at things no one else could see. But that was sixty years ago, when he was a child and such imaginative explanations were necessary. Now... →

I know all about the last painting in Irene Burgman’s last show: Number 22, “Nicholas,” a beautiful painting of the artist’s dog against a background of deep blue and purple velvets that look real enough to grasp. I know all about it because I was there when she painted it, and for this... →