Walking along 11th Avenue against the wind last Thursday night, I could feel the hopes and dreams of New York blowing by me, leaving the specters of my fellow New Yorkers in their wake. I was heading from David Zwirner to Sperone Westwater, drifting amidst the new work of two veteran painters from two more hopeful down eras, Susan Rothenberg of the 1970s and Lisa Yuskavage of the ‘90s. Their new work offers up two kinds of decay appropriate for this anxious moment, a wasting pleasure versus dry dessication.
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