Catalogue essayist Sylvère Lotringer describes the curatorial concept as "unfolding in its complex spirals the very space of thought." I'd go further: this exhibition has the structure of a double helix. Wreaking havoc with American presumptions about French art, it rearranges the genetic material of recent art history. And despite a good deal of theorizing about Deleuze, Debord, Virilio, and Godard in several catalogue essays, the exhibition presents its radical and comprehensive thesis with a certain funky je ne sais quoi that's not only lucid but ludique. I suspect that Jacques Tati, bumbling through a perplexing material world, is the true presiding spirit of "Premises."