To say the stairs are steep at the James Oliver Gallery is to say Mt. Everest is high. I have a mind to petition for a rest stop two flights up. The payoff, though, is a few calories lost and a big white cube. A strip of room as long as a bowling lane ends with a spacious bar and a plum view of downtown. Paintings, drawings, sculptures, and assemblage pieces fill most of the wall space. It’s the tenth anniversary show—JOG10, and there’s an installation of wooden birds—a flock in, um, flight.
Read MoreA deep blue sky melts into a silvery fluorescence at the horizon, permeated with the crisp black silhouettes of branches shattering across the frame.
Read MoreNoreen appreciates a different view of Americana offered by several contemporary photographers. The show is often colorful, and just as often vaguely unsettling.
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