This isn’t to say they’re unworldly. It’s the End of the Evening, for example, with only a little help from its title, brings to mind balloons, melted candles, melted ice cream, a scrap of red and black wrapping paper, a green fish and a molten yellow sun in the corner, setting the detritus on fire. But looking for connections to any concrete specifics beyond the painting’s own is like reading shapes in the surface of a whirlpool: there is a cornucopia of impressions, but each is no sooner perceived than it recedes, because there’s never any solid foothold from which to grasp it.

The texture of the sand even disrupts the perception of brushstrokes. Only now and then, as in one white ganglion on the left side of Dark Hearts and a Rope, when the paint is thick enough to cover the sand entirely, is it possible to feel the sensual exchange of bristle and paint. For that one rare moment, though, artist and viewer communicate intimately instead of standing shoulder to shoulder staring into the same close but alien, hot but impersonal formal nothingness. (Through March 23)

Rendering of Sean Kelly Gallery's new Toshiko Mori-designed space on 36 Street. (Sean Kelly)

“Be careful where you step,” shouted Maureen Bray over a percussion of power tools as she maneuvered past the electricians, sheetrockers and HVAC crew members who have two months to transform a 22,000-square-foot construction zone into the new home of Sean Kelly Gallery, which is about to triple in size. “Obviously this giant hole won’t be here,” said Ms. Bray, a director at the gallery, pointing to what will become a stairwell leading to a black-box theater—just one of three exhibition spaces, alongside expanded offices, a “canyon”-sized library and two private viewing rooms (“back where those toilets are now”).

In the early 1990s, most real-estate-seeking New Yorkers overlooked the gray smudge on Manhattan’s West Side known as Chelsea, then still a wasteland of deserted freight tracks, turpentine fumes and auto-body garages. But for the throngs of art galleries being swiftly priced out of Soho by fashion boutiques and Dean & Delucas, it offered cavernous, column-free architecture at bargain-basement prices.

Matthew Marks pioneered the migration on an abandoned stretch of West 22^nd Street. Soon after, Barbara Gladstone, Metro Pictures, Sean Kelly and hundreds of other galleries followed, and a “new Soho” was born in Chelsea.

Twenty years, two Gagosian Galleries and a Comme des Garçons later, Chelsea art dealers are fretting that the legacy of Soho has come back to haunt them. About a third of the neighborhood’s galleries have been shuttered in the last five years as High Line-inflated real estate prices and an influx of deep-pocketed fashion and design firms have forced out many of the smaller dealers. At its height, Chelsea was home to more than 350 galleries; today only 204 remain, according to Rice & Associates real estate adviser Earl Bateman.

But it would be premature to pronounce the world’s premier gallery district dead. In fact, business appears to be better than ever for a few galleries—and it’s not hard to guess which ones. This fall and the months following, Friedrich Petzel, Sean Kelly, David Zwirner, The Pace Gallery and Hauser & Wirth, are set to engulf the West Side with a wave of new galleramas: stadium-scale exhibition centers with square footage stretching into the tens of thousands and calendars filled with blockbuster exhibitions.

This is the new Chelsea gallery scene—where competition has gone beyond survival of the fittest and evolved into a full-fledged superspecies. Even in the digital age, when business can increasingly be done online—and the art-fair era, when a large proportion of selling is done on a whistle-stop tour of the fairs that have sprung up around the world—an expansionist few insist that not only do brick-and-mortar galleries still matter, but that bigger is better.

“It has to do with some of our artists, and that the nature of what they are doing requires larger spaces,” said Marc Payot, vice president of Hauser & Wirth, which is opening its second New York location in the 23,000-square-foot former Roxy NYC roller disco at 511 West 18th Street.

There, visitors are likely to see more of Roni Horn’s big glass blocks and cylinders, Paul McCarthy’s towering sculptures and Dieter Roth’s “very large” installation-sculpture hybrids, 8 to 10 of which are tentatively slated to christen the new gallery. “This simply could not be shown in a small place,” Mr. Payot said of the show. “We want to be able to show an artist’s full range.”

The new space of Friedrich Petzel Gallery on 18 Street. (Friedrich Petzel)

Friedrich Petzel, who is doubling the size of his current home with a second gallery just down the block from the new Hauser & Wirth, echoed this sentiment. “The artists are the ones in command of this,” he said. Vivid natural lighting and an exclusive location were two concerns that Mr. Petzel had been hearing from his artists, so he signed a 10-year lease on a gallery with a full-roof skylight and a comparatively desolate locale, 456 West 18th Street.

“The artists like the idea of not having too many neighbors. It’s not a shopping mall; it’s about them and their work,” he said.

Indeed, satisfying artists may be a more vital business practice now that elite galleries routinely face off to sign the top earners. In the past two years, Sean Kelly snagged Alec Soth from Gagosian, Pace won Yoshitomo Nara from Marianne Boesky and Friedrich Petzel poached Dana Schutz from Zach Feuer.

Or take this summer’s very public stealing of Thaddeus Ropac’s thunder. The Paris dealer had announced that Anselm Kiefer would inaugurate the opening of his second gallery in that city this October. Six weeks later, he was hit with the news that Gagosian Gallery had decided that it would open its new Paris space, also this fall, with its own exhibition of works by Kiefer. (Adding insult to injury, Kiefer called Gagosian’s space “so inspiring you can envision the artworks in it immediately.”)

“The good galleries are having trouble keeping their artists unless they can offer them a global platform or a space that’s magnificent,” said art adviser Wendy Cromwell.

Over at Pace, communications director Andrea Glimcher has figured out a way to up the gallery’s architectural impact without adding a fifth New York outpost. Instead, Pace is moving its 22nd Street gallery—whose current building will soon become home to the Dia Foundation’s Manhattan branch—into a new 4,000-square-foot building at 508 West 25th Street, directly adjacent to its existing gallery.

“What’s great is that it’s next door and allows us to use it as a single gallery or to connect the two spaces into something larger,” Ms. Glimcher said. Together, the spaces consolidate into a single, 8,000-square-foot gallery. The first show, however, an exhibition of new works by Lucas Samaras opening Sept. 27, is being held in the single new gallery.

Some observers have attributed this fall’s mega-gallery boom to a bifurcation of the market that favors its very highest and lowest ends. “There’s so much money pointing to the very top end, where you have the wealthy looking to hedge against inflation. It’s always risky to expand your business, but I think these are calculated bets that the market will support multiple platforms,” said Ms. Cromwell.  “These are big brands trading on their reputations to a certain degree.”

Indeed, “brand” is at times a better descriptor than “gallery” these days. It used to be that only a global conglomerate like Sotheby’s or Christie’s had the resources for large-scale secondary-market business, such as the liquidation of a major private collection or estate.

But in 2008, Gagosian Gallery challenged this model by purchasing Ileana Sonnabend’s collection of Andy Warhols for $200 million. That same year, David Zwirner, along with Iwan Wirth, purchased 155 postwar works from the collection of Helga and Walther Lauffs. The price was never disclosed, but Sotheby’s reaped $96 million for selling just 33 works from the trove.

It has been suggested that Mr. Zwirner’s success in selling off the Lauffs collection helped him land the coveted Donald Judd estate in 2010. That year, with his secondary-market business booming—and with 40 contemporary artists crowding his roster—he purchased an $8 million parking garage at 537 West 20^th Street to become the site of his fourth gallery in Chelsea. Architect Annabelle Selldorf designed a new five-story, 30,000-square-foot building—the first LEED-certified gallery in New York—expected to open late this November with an exhibition by Judd and Dan Flavin.

“Like so many other galleries, we all need more physical exhibition spaces for our artists,” said Zwirner publicist Julia Joern in an email, adding that the new gallery “exemplifies an ongoing commitment to creating truly beautiful large-scale exhibition spaces for our artists, all with extraordinary natural light.”

Kelly. (Ben Polsky)

But for each new mega-gallery that pops up in Chelsea, a dozen others seem to disappear or move to locales more congenial to their activities. At the high end, there’s Sean Kelly, who is trading in his 6,500-square-foot gallery on West 29th Street, already on the far northern reaches of the neighborhood, for a space even farther north, on 36th Street, formerly home to the nonprofit Exit Art. It will cost him about $50 per square foot, compared to the $100 to $150 price-tags he was finding in central Chelsea. “It seemed like an absolute no-brainer,” he said.

To fill the new Toshiko Mori-designed space, which opens Oct. 27 with an Antony Gormley exhibition, Mr. Kelly has gradually added a half-dozen artists to his roster, including Kehinde Wiley and Terence Koh. “Artists are looking for bigger and better spaces,” he said. “At the end of the day, that’s what they love.”

But perhaps the sweetest part of the deal? Mr. Kelly signed an 18-year lease. “We would never have gotten that in Chelsea,” he said. “This is a lease that will basically see me through my professional career in the city.”

As real-estate adviser Mr. Bateman put it, “A lot of the landlords are hedging on the future with shorter-term leases because they envision the High Line as being the next West Broadway or Madison Avenue.”

The new Hauser & Wirth, for instance, can’t undergo any major renovations because its 10-year lease includes a clause allowing the owner to terminate the agreement in as few as six years if the building finds a buyer. As a result, Mr. Payot said he’s more concerned with just “turning the space into a functional gallery. We’re treating it like a big project space, not a glamorous white cube.”

Of course, it’s the small galleries, particularly those on upper floors, that have been most trampled by the rising rents. Prices tend to be somewhat uneven among Chelsea’s large multifloor buildings, but a few key sites have raised rents upward of 30 percent in recent years. Around two-thirds of the upper-floor galleries have disappeared or fled to cheaper pastures since 2007, according to Rice & Associates.

And apart from early colonizers like Matthew Marks and Paula Cooper (and Larry Gagosian, who reportedly paid just $5.75 million for his 24th Street space when he bought it from the Gambino family in 1999—a steal given how values have since escalated in the neighborhood) very few dealers own property in Chelsea. Mounting office and residential competition makes space even more scarce. Between now and the end of the year, developers are expected to add about 600 new luxury rental units to a 12-block radius in Chelsea.

“Real estate was the biggest factor,” said Michael Foley of his eponymous gallery’s recent move from Chelsea to 97 Delancey Street in the Lower East Side, where he pays about the same price per square foot for a ground-floor space as he did for the second floor on 28th Street. In the cheaper corners of the Lower East Side, around Ludlow and Orchard, galleries can get ground-floor property at about $30 to $50 per square foot.

“As the bigger galleries take up more space, it makes us find space on the outskirts of Chelsea, the upper floors, or on streets that are not that populated by galleries,” Mr. Foley said.

Shifting demographics play a part as well. Chelsea’s Horton Gallery is adding a third space next month in the Lower East Side because, as owner Sean Horton put it in an email, “Increasingly the lack of smaller galleries in Chelsea makes it a less interesting place to be. It’s a great destination for museum-quality exhibitions, but there’s less sense of discovery there now.”

But while there are many similarities between late-stage Soho and Chelsea, there’s still reason to doubt that real estate will win the battle. “There’s a lot of hype, but I wonder how much of a real contribution the High Line is making,” Mr. Bateman said. “Sure, there are two to three million new visitors, but do they get off? Do they really patronize the galleries? It closes before dinner, so the restaurants don’t benefit.”

His solution is for the city to offer tax credits to landlords housing small galleries, like the abatements it gives to the film industry. But, for now, the more humble dealers are rapidly losing faith in Chelsea. The supersizing galleries, on the other hand, might be onto something—in an uncertain market, perhaps the most valuable product of all is confidence.

editorial@observer.com

No install shots: go see the show.

Let's say you're a New Yorker in Europe right now. You've hit Manifesta and Documenta, plus made the requisite trips to Zurich and Basel. You're thinking about hanging around for another week or so to relax after all that art viewing. But wait, you realize in horror: you're going to miss seeing Robert Irwin's show at Pace's East 57th Street location, which ends its run on June 23!

No, you're not.

Pace just released word that the the exhibition has been extended through July 13. (The extension applies to everyone, including those who simply have not yet seen the show because of general procrastination or being very busy.)

It's always sad—and embarrassing—to miss a major exhibition, but this one would be especially tragic to miss because it is the first part in a double-header called "Dotting the i’s & Crossing the t’s." The second part arrives in the fall at Pace.

If you need further inducement, know this: it's a good-looking exhibition. Just a few handsome works—classic Irwin—elegantly arranged. Plus, he's made some subtle alterations to the space that are well worth the trip.

Update, June 20: An earlier version of this post incorrectly stated the extension of the show. It is hopen through July 13.

Lee Friedlander, 'Nude,' 1979. One of the nude portraits Mr. Friedlander took of Madonna. © Lee Friedlander. (Courtesy Fraenkel Gallery, San Francisco)

Lee Friedlander is now represented in New York by Pace/MacGill and Pace, it has just been announced. The American photographer known for his black and white urban social landscapes taken with a hand-held 35-mm camera as well as for his nudes, in particular his nude photographs of a young Madonna (see left) taken in 1978 for Playboy, will kick off his representation by Pace/MacGill and Pace with a two-venue exhibition this fall.

Mr. Friedlander was formerly represented by Janet Borden Gallery in New York. The photographer will continue to be represented in San Francisco by Fraenkel Gallery, a gallery the artist has been with for over 33 years.

For his exhibition, which opens simultaneously at their two 57th Street locations on October 25 and will run through December 22, Mr. Friedlander will present his newest series, "Mannequin," as well as his renowned nudes from the '70s. Will these include some of the Madonna photos? "Highly likely," said a gallerist at Pace. "But it's not confirmed." One of his Madonna nudes sold for $77,240 at Christie's Paris in November 2011, the second highest price paid at auction for one of his single photographs, according to Artnet.

“The Pace Gallery and Pace/MacGill are honored to represent one of the very great photographers in the medium’s history," said Peter MacGill, president of Pace/MacGill Gallery, in a statement. " For over 50 years, Lee has overturned the possibilities of what a photograph could be by inventing radical, intelligent and witty new ways of seeing traditional subjects.”

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 25

Gala: White Box
With all the galas we've got going around these days, you've really got to distinguish yourself somehow. The gala at White Box offers not only DJ Spooky and an auction fronted by Phillips de Pury & Company Celebrity Auctioneer CK Swett, but as if that weren't enough they're also Skype-ing in Ai Weiwei. Sounds like a party to us. —Dan Duray
White Box, 329 Broome Street, New York, 6–10 p.m., from $50

Opening: Robert Irwin, "Dotting the i’s & Crossing the t’s: Part 1," at Pace
The title of Robert Irwin's latest exhibition suggests that the great California artist is in a retrospective mood, revisiting work and ideas from throughout his career—which is wonderful since, over the past 60 years, he's charted one of the most remarkable, action-packed journeys of any contemporary artist. This show includes a new installation involving the gallery's windows and a light work. Part two arrives in September. —A.R.
The Pace Gallery, 32 East 57th Street, New York, 6–8 p.m.

Lecture: Lorraine O’Grady "Portrait of the Artist" presented by the Performa
The Performa Institute presents the first installment of a new lecture series, called Portrait of the Artist, featuring Lorraine O'Grady. Art historian Kellie Jones will present a look at Ms. O'Grady's work, followed by a conversation with the artist. —Michael H. Miller
NYU Einstein Auditorium, 34 Stuyvesant Street, New York, 6:30 p.m., free with reservation: rsvp@performa-arts.org.

Screening: "Found" at Eyebeam
Short films made by Fred Wilson, Christian Marclay, Rashaad Newsome and Jacob Ciocci comprise the first installment in a screening series curated from the Eyebeam archives by James O’Shea. This screening involves artists who work with found and appropriated images, a practice that is connected to Eyebeam’s philosophy of free and open culture. After the opening, the films will screen daily, beginning April 26, from 12-6 p.m. —Rozalia Jovanovic
Eyebeam, 540 West 21 Street, New York, 8:30 p.m.

THURSDAY, APRIL 26

Opening: David Benjamin Sherry, "Astral Desert" at Salon 94
David Benjamin Sherry went off the grid for a while to travel the National Parks of Utah, Nevada, New Mexico, Arizona and California. For his first solo show in New York, he presents a series of photographs, sand prints and photograms that he made while in the desert, using traditional medium and large format film cameras. This series of vivid portraits of desert sandscapes questions the dominance of digital imagery and honors the American West in wild colors.
Salon 94, 243 Bowery, New York, 6–8 p.m.

SATURDAY, APRIL 28

Opening: Sherrie Levine, "A Dazzle of Zebra" at Paula Cooper Gallery
Paula Cooper presents an exhibition of new work by Sherrie Levine. We're not sure what exactly to expect, but Ms. Levine is always enthralling. There's this little bit of info from the gallery as well: "Much like the exhibition’s title, Levine’s installation sets in motion an alliterative principle: the works rhyme with each other and with their counterparts in the 'real world.'" --M.H.M.
Paula Cooper Gallery, 534 West 21st Street, New York, 6–8 p.m.

SUNDAY, APRIL 29

Event: Columbia Visual Arts MFA Thesis Show
The second year Columbia MFA students show off their stuff before they go out into the world to get famous. Should be a blast. —D.D.
38-27 30th Street, Queens, 2-5 p.m.

"17 Nov '62" (1962) by Anne Truitt. (Courtesy Matthew Marks Gallery)

The late Anne Truitt, whose work is often associated with Minimalism, is best known for her freestanding, assertively self-effacing, brightly painted wooden pillars. Confronting and repossessing the history of sculpture and the nature of artistic ambition at a 90-degree angle, formally simple but psychologically complex to the point of opacity, they’re documents of a kind of transcendental sublimation. But the same quality illuminates the best of the several dozen drawings—pale graphite grids, saturated color fields, minimally figurative angles and lines—currently on view at Matthew Marks Gallery.

28 Dec ’62, named, like several other of these works on paper, for the date of its execution, is just under two by three feet but dominates a large room. A clean-edged black shape, painted in acrylic with impossible-to-discern brushstrokes, fills a sheet of white Bristol paper. It’s not quite a rectangle because its upper edge stoops down at an angle. From a certain distance, your view of the sheer, dropping emptiness may be disrupted by reflections in the glass protecting the piece, but if you step closer, you can make out pale indigo shadows flickering across the surface of the paint. What is the mark and what is the ground seem clear enough, and so does the way the expansive shape puts emphasis on the negative space; but no sooner does the white border leap out than it seems to push forward the black again. Foreground and background—and with them, free will and inherited language; surface and depth; expressing and obscuring; and making and erasing—switch places again and again until they become an infinite recursion. There’s hardly space for the viewer to enter, but the movement is hard to look away from. The effect is something like sci-fi novelist Philip K. Dick’s “Zebra,” the massive intelligence that he hypothesized could camouflage itself by looking not just like something else, but like the whole environment.

Shear No. 5 and Shear No. 16, on the other hand, both made in 1976, bring to mind an older book: Like the imperial court ladies of The Tale of Genji, who expressed their esthetic elliptically, by trailing overlapping silk sleeves in different colors from the windows of their palanquins, these drawings work by means of static juxtaposition. In Shear No. 5, the near-rectangle is a deep Japanese plum color and has an asymmetrical peaked roof. The background is royal blue. The shape is painted thickly enough to be discernibly raised from its ground, but despite its density is translucent enough to let through long, narrow lines of blue and to reveal its own grainy, vertical brushstrokes. It’s impossible, again, to see into the depths, but in this case not because they’re hidden, but because all the artist’s energy has been poured into the surface.

9 Jan ’63 shows two long, horizontal rectangles, outlined precisely in ink over graphite, joined by six irregularly spaced vertical lines. Floating between drawing and diagram, it’s gentle but withholding. Several other grids and houselike shapes of distinctly but faintly drawn graphite lines, sometimes filled in with light applications of white acrylic, test the boundary between declaration and hypothesis by being literally difficult to see: from the other side of the room, they look like blank pieces of paper. The long, narrow, pointy black shape of Sable XIV, on the other hand, like a low rise just over the horizon, has such a minimal figurative efficiency that it seems to pull the room in, like a vacuum, rather than giving its image out.

Other Minimalist work chooses easily generalized and abstracted colors and psychologically potent forms to suggest the purity of disembodiment: It uses its materials to transcend the material. But even Truitt’s blacks, blues and reds clearly remain paint. And most of the drawings in this show don’t use such loaded, argumentative colors at all. Instead, their streaks, dashes, spatters and stripes are rendered in and on bright floral yellow, pale peach, powder blue, orange and green, or light plum. The self-effacement of formal Minimalism becomes a gesture of respect to the concrete particularity of any given work. One untitled drawing from 1967 could be the flag of some quiet island kingdom where the prime minister writes poetry and the standing army consists of a single policeman. Two wide vertical stripes in the middle, one a thick orange-yellow, the other dense pink, are bounded on the sides by slightly different shades of peach. It’s completely self-possessed, but looking too closely feels something like interrupting.

The whole point of a “happening,” you’d think, is that you had to be there, but the comprehensive new documentary show at Pace, “Happenings: New York, 1958-1963,” which includes numerous photographs and informative, endearingly enthusiastic wall labels, as well as videos, recreations of sets, and a pile of fake Danishes and pair of giant shoes made by Claes Oldenburg, gets the flavor across. The offset, unbalancing overlap of different forms of documentation works particularly well for Red Grooms, who put on his first one-man show, “A Play Called Fire,” in Provincetown in 1958. In that performance, he painted Painting From “A Play Called Fire”; in 1970, he made a diorama commemorating another performance, The Burning Building (1959) Remembered; and in 1984 he recreated The Burning Building for a video, which, transferred to DVD and playing on a small screen set in the wall beside the diorama and facing the painting, has the artist in white jeans and white face makeup showily giving a hotfoot to a broom-wielding, wordless fireman in a red union suit.

editorial@observer.com

"Untitled" (2011) by Bosco Sodi. Mixed media on canvas, 8 ft. 3 in. x 13 ft. 2.25 in. (Kerry Ryan McFate/The Pace Gallery)

The Pace Gallery certainly knows how to throw a party. Though most Chelsea dealers have jettisoned alcohol from their openings in recent years, the Glimchers have flouted that trend lately, and last night they were dishing out Brooklyn-brand beer and white wine at their reception for Mexican artist Bosco Sodi's first show with their gallery, at its West 22nd Street location.

The space was packed with people, and every few seconds a cry of "Bosco!" could be heard through the rabble. A dozen works by Mr. Sodi were on the walls--large rectangles and circles colored deep fuchsia or dark aquamarine or black. They have craggy, cracked, barnacle-covered surfaces, like jumbo-sized knock-off Yves Kleins, or spray-painted Styrofoam.

In the show's news release, Mr. Sodi declares, “When I am making a painting, I don’t stop. I don’t eat, I don’t sleep after the preparations are made and the first layer is put down. It’s a continuous action, like a performance.” The release mentions Pollock, Rothko and de Kooning. The whole package made him sound intense, aggressive, insatiable.

It was a surprise, then, to find--when introduced to Bosco (everyone calls him Bosco) by a colleague--that he was actually laid-back and low key, a nice guy who seemed almost perplexed by his good fortune. He is tall with slightly long scruffy hair, and was wearing a tight sweater over a collared shirt.

Someone had told us that another New York gallery had been competing to show his work, and so we asked him about that, but he demurred. "Marc Glimcher is my kind of guy," Bosco said with a smile. "We got along right away when he visited me."

We asked him about how he makes his work, and he explained that he layers on sawdust, pigment and other materials--"layer on layer on layer on layer," he said, placing his hands one on top of another--in his Red Hook studio, and then leaves it to dry and crack. "It involves chance," he told us.

"Bosco!" someone called out from behind us, reaching toward him for a hug. "Congratulations!"

Yoshitomo Nara, "After the Acid Rain (Night Version)," 2010, Japanese woodcut, Ukiyo-e style, 21 7/8 x 17-1/2 in. (Courtesy the Pace Gallery)

The Observer has learned that Japanese artist Yoshitomo Nara is now represented in New York by the Pace Gallery. Mr. Nara, 52, emerged in the 1990s in a wave of Pop art coming out of Japan; his paintings and sculptures, often depicting children, are influenced by comics and punk rock music. His work was the subject of a major exhibition at New York’s Asia Society Museum last year.

"He has great interest in the classical contemporary painters like de Kooning and Rothko," Pace's president, Marc Glimcher, told The Observer; Pace works with the estates of both artists. "I think he wants more of a connection to that." Mr. Nara’s work has performed solidly at auction; in June a 1999 painting made $1.5 million at Christie's, London.

Mr. Nara had been represented in New York by the Marianne Boesky Gallery. A representative from Boesky confirmed to The Observer that the gallery will collaborate with Pace next May on a joint exhibition by Italian artist Pier Paolo Calzolari.

Pace has been busy adding artists recently, with Japanese photographer Hiroshi Sugimoto and the estate of Abstract-Expressionist Willem de Kooning both moving over from Gagosian. Pace also runs galleries in Beijing and London.

Mr. Nara will continue to work with other galleries outside of New York. He shows at Tomio Koyama in Tokyo, Stephen Friedman in London and Blum & Poe in Los Angeles.