Angelbert Metoyer has just finished work on his first New York solo show, and his dealer, Paul Rodgers, is at his studio on the Lower East Side to collect 13 drawings. For the past 10 weeks, Metoyer's dizzying drawings of conjoined angelic figures, underscored with indecipherable script, have been dragged around his apartment, pinned to the walls, rearranged in speculative formations, powdered with chalk dust and gold dust. Metoyer prowled around barefoot, crouching to add some lines to one drawing with his right hand while simultaneously doing his automatic writing with his left hand. He'd fall into a reverie for a few minutes before moving on to the next picture. Metoyer wandered around his apartment this way for days, without sleeping. It helped not to think too much about what he was doing, so he could "conjure" more effectively, he said. But now his work is done. After Rodgers leaves, with the bundle of drawings tucked under his arm, Metoyer looks dazed. "I've got nothing!" he only half jokes, looking at the bare walls. "Imagine 13 little pieces of your body being taken away, man. Let's amputate 13 of your little... More >>>