Louise Fishman aptly describes herself as a “third generation Abstract Expressionist.” Her new work certainly evinces a thorough assimilation of those aesthetic forebears: the paintings are dynamic, all-over compositions in oil on linen, punctuated by gestural marks and enlivened by an acute sense of color. Both in the catalogue essay, by John Yau, and in the reviews of her work, much is made of Fishman’s roughness, but the artist invariably arrives at a wrought, entirely cohesive final product. The roughness comes from the visible remains of the effort she puts into each canvas, the scraped or sanded proof that these works are re-thought time and again until Fishman settles on the ultimate composition.

In parts of A Stranger (2000), one can discern underpainting beneath the largely pink ground, and these scorings and bits of color add variety to what would otherwise be a static backdrop. They also harmonize effectively w ...

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