So when those lumps
of fuel are pulled from deep below the
surface in northern China or exposed by a
blast of dynamite on an Appalachian mountaintop, invisible plumes
of methane gas seep
out, as well.
I'm thinking, for example,
of the
blasted - looking abstract paintings
of Lucy Dodd; the scorching color and rash repeating orders
of Katherine Bernhardt; the erratic organization and Eros
of Keltie Ferris; the maybe - too - pretty but hobbled Modernism
of Patricia Treib; the all -
out discontentedness and retinal attack
of Bjarne Melgaard; the insane glutted flat
surfaces of Borna Sammak.