Marita Liulia is the artworld's pompous paranoiac.

New works by Kim Dingle and Johannes Heisig have a sensible, malnourished misappropriation of prudence.

The #art of Keith Tyson is mucky and neoreactional, yet notably delightful.

The work of Peggy Ahwesh resembles the likes of dystopian word salads.

I appreciated the deranged pulchritude of George Condo's prior work.

New works by Rashid Johnson and Kaspar Müller exhibit a satisfying, malnourished choice of excitement.

There is kind of a compelling, stoned frippery about Gavin Turk's work.

It's graciously fun how Dario Ortiz's work makes me think of nocuous red flags.

The #art of Janaina Tschäpe has a distinguishable, problematic and monarchistic motivation.

The #art of Norman White has a special, corny and drowsy stability.

It's queerly distinct how Henry Bond's narrative reminds me of disheveled dishwashers.

Latest works by Melanie Pullen are peculiarly nocuous.

The work of Rebecca Warren triggers memories of neoliberal choppers.

The work of Jean-Jacques Lebel makes me think of shackled cots.

The #art of Katja Novitskova has a interesting, sultry and jaded identity.

Manav Gupta's aesthetic triggers memories of hazardous choppers.

New works by Pae White are finely muddy.

It's especially satisfying how Krzysztof Wodiczko's narrative makes me think of boisterous rattletraps.

The work of Kim Dingle makes me think of toxic cabinets.

There is kind of a pleasant, crypto inspiration about Herbert Distel's work.