General comment: Slim pickin's this time around-- around downtown, that is. Adding insult to boredom, 49 Geary was a sweatbox; temperatures hovered in the mid-80's, possibly higher, not to mention the humidity. Maybe it was all those artsters fuming about so many galleries flogging so many yawners. Fortunately, the other venues were climatologically benign. But enough about the weather. The art was decent quality; that wasn't the issue. Much of it simply begged the question "Why should I care?" Or more poignantly, "Why should I spend thousands or tens of thousands of dollars on this stuff?"

The semi-bright spots included several hypnotic outer space doodles by Barbara Takenaga, and mixed media works with embedded four-leaf clovers by Leslie Hirst at Gregory Lind Gallery. Imagine abstract expressionism updated to 2004 and you've got Brian Rutenberg paintings at Toomey Tourell, sustained by their textural aerobatics. Rounding out the survivor list was some perplexing inside-the-mind art by Lee Lozano at 871 Fine Arts, for sale at equally perplexing prices; and a weird Felix Gonzalez-Torres survey at Fraenkel Gallery, made amusingly weirder by the artist's posthumous directive granting viewers free-range rights to do what they please with the art, including rearrange it, eat it and/or take it home (in some cases, gratis). Up the block at 77 Geary, clean white ceramic sculptures by Dennis Gallagher transformed Rena Bransten Gallery into a playground of sorts, adding uplift to the evening's overall art-sag. Now for the good news:

111 Minna Gallery: Greymatter 4.0; Doze Green.
Comment: Green's art gets better and better, yet he remains undetected by conventional art world radar. Maybe it's that droning resistance to "graffiti-based" art and artists; maybe it's that not-real-art attitude that mauls the brains of the academically impaired. Well Dorothy, it's wake up time-- we're not just spray painting walls anymore. According to Green, he's seen so much awfulness on TV lately, much of it relating to America's glutton-ridden f-u lust to consume and dominate the world, that to save his head from exploding, he chose to explode some paint instead. His art embodies a new language of discontent, social commentary, social realism, and is executed with skill, complexity, and aesthetic. In other words, it's some good lookin' shit that makes you think.