Letters, whether they are Roman, Cyrillic, or Arabic, represented, at one time, a physical thing: a boat, or a hawk, a house, or the sun. But over time these markings, in many alphabets, have become abstracted. Now letters that line a page are mere keystrokes for what they once were. Process is Life, a show of Blythe Bohnen’s work at A.I.R. Gallery, features an early body of her paintings composed of paintbrush markings that weave within grids, rising and falling in expressive undulations with deceptive ease, the eye trying to form those shapes into letters. And even though these are not alphabetic markings steeped in an evolutionary history of culture, Bohnen’s study beside a series of loose square forms in “Brushstroke Series” (ca. 1970) offers a small key into the deep thought that went into each character appearing in the show. In the same way letters are not random shapes, these marks were well thought out. Bohnen was, above all, scientifically attentive to the motions of the world, so these compositions echo with life.

It takes a subtle hand to map the invisible, to be attuned to whispers, and barely realized thoughts. It takes a particular softness to orchestrate a rest in the din with enough force to open us with its lightness. Gego is a master of narrating the unseen.

It is rare to witness a lifetime of dedication, a slow-burning desire that lasts decades. Arthur Dove’s meticulous study of the natural world lasted his entire life, resulting in less a material perfection than a gestural divine. This month, Alexandre Gallery is featuring Arthur Dove: Sensations of Light, a survey exhibition.

Apocalypses, Fables, and Reveries: New Paintings, is Susan Bee’s tenth solo exhibit at A.I.R. Gallery, where she has long been a member of the legendary co-op. The show features pieces created between 2020–2023, when the apocalypse became all too vivid in a collective imagination that was enduring the COVID-19 pandemic.

An expanse of dark is splattered with white. A figure walks beneath, turning back, as if momentarily, to wave. His reflection is held in a puddle at his feet; above him are large flowers and a vague map. The white spots are not stars, yet they guide us toward the concept of a night sky. C.G. Jung inferred that archetypes exist within each one of us. Our starry nights glimmer with ancient cosmic formations that can be understood, and as they are, we begin to discover our place among them. This painting is titled The Traveler’s Dream (2022).

A total of 12 sculptures soar some 30 feet over Park Avenue and the High Line on the Kasmin Gallery roof. They swoop in the garden medians between iconic modernist and delicate contemporary architecture. When they catch the light, they become silver linings: more ideas than objects.