Something odd is going on. In one Soho gallery, Bonnie Collura's lumpy sculptures and fragmented works on paper look for all the world like the final meltdown of neo-baroque figuration into an abstract state of molten fusion. In another gallery nearby, Pieter Schoolwerth's psyched-out Pop-gothic-hipster paintings do the opposite: Their mannered choreography of people, pets, headphone cords, olives, and other pseudorealistic minutiae seems spooked by an invisible process of fission—as if the artist, attempting to split the atoms of abstraction, had released a slick new... More >>>