A reintroduction to the body, its impulses, its carnal demands, and its holy mysteries. Slumber party: Leigh Cunningham's sleeper The first thing you’ll see upon entering the gallery at Deep Space (77 Cornelison St.) is the shadow-outline of a woman’s leg. There it is, on a chartreuse background, sticking straight up in the air with a curvaceous bare foot inches from the ceiling. That’s all of the subject of “Lemon Lime Toe of God” that the oil painter Delilah Ray Miske is wi

The artist fashions a playground at the end of empire. But wait... which empire? Under the volcano: Digging into Winifred's work Any good cook will tell you that reducing something doesn’t always mean diminishing it. Sometimes it’s the best way to intensify its personality. Size, we’ve learned in the era of streaming entertainment on tiny phone screens, does not determine how clearly a thing communicates. If it fills our senses, it can slip right into our bloodstream. And cer

Friendly, witty, loopy, impish, yes, but don't get him wrong: he isn't trying to throw you. Every rose has its thorn: Steve Datz's "In the Pink" Steve Datz will put you in mind of Jackson Pollock. Maybe he hates that comparison, and maybe he’s happy to own the influence; either way, it’s tough to ignore. Many of his paintings feature multicolored drip-squiggles on long, horizontal canvases. If they never quite achieve the intensity of Pollock’s plasma storms, they feel simil