Last fall at Eyewash Gallery, during the Elsewhere weekend, Ward Shelley exhibited a penciled map networking the Williamsburg art community. With inherent humor, the normally hushed politics were set down on paper with neither apology nor judgment. It was a magnification of our reality; a print, a photograph.

It has been the contemporary painters lot after Pollock and Rothko to find paths which lead to places not destined for despair.

Pittsburgh is a city blessed with a physical and historical foundation for a commitment to the arts.

An exclusive vocabulary of stylized floral and calligraphic figures on a static ground recall Batu’s Turkish roots.

Together with Susan Joyce of Los Angeles, Williamsburg’s Mery Lynn McCorkle, a sometime gardener in more fertile environs, conceived of Cross Pollination after a discussion of flora indigenous to each coast.

SoHo was like an old friend on the balmy, springlike evening of David Kapp’s opening. Kapp held court at Beitzel in a bright true blue shirt over a lively crowd of onlookers who could have been walking down his esplanades, or passing under the streetlamps in his paintings.

Meredith Allen employs depth of field comparable to Da Vinci’s atmospheric perspective in his portrait of the Mona Lisa. The dreamy backgrounds are instead the beautiful beach vistas of Eastern Long Island.

The 21st century will be the century in which we redefine ourselves as the first country in world history which is literally made up of every part of the world.

“Bushwick is just like Greenpoint except the people are, you know, of color instead of Polish,” says a Greenpoint artist cheerfully, after a sunny midday trip to look at a raw loft space with a friend who was evicted from his Chelsea loft, given 60 days to clear out.