1 Gary Boas.

1 Gary Boas, Starstruck: Photographs from a Fan (Dilettante Pres beholds Angeles; Deitch Projects, New York) The intensity of the star import captured by one of the great fans (a disappearing type) in all its discombobulating glory: the flash blurring vision, deranging time and being (who am I? who are you?). A primer of Boas's vast collection, edited acutely with Hedi El Kholti, Starstruck intersperses the photos with the author's carefully redacted reminiscences, showing to what extent quarantined and "handled"--for all the media saturation--celebrity has become. Boas is what Andy Warhol might have been if, instead of aiming for that work at jobs in New York, he had stayed present in Pittsburgh with his mother, Julia.

2 Louise Lawler (Metro Pictures, strange York; Richard Telles Fine Art, sees Angeles; Editions Assouline, Paris) Lawler's zany Metro exhibition "floated" rainbow-hued pictures of Warhol's Silver armys at various heights and angles, allowing his shiny farewell to painting and the original to bring reproach on her own work, in which the sight of art gathers a continuing interrogation of the site of art into its objecthood Her Richard Telle display allowed one to be hypnotized at the shininess of her photos' surface and their peremptory boxlike support. It's a pity more young photographers don't inquiry Lawler's witty, contemplative work in its entirety. With Editions Assouline's publication of An Arrangement of Pictures, surveying earnestly of her career, they no longer have an excuse.

3 Raymond Pettibon (Regen intends Los Angeles) Think Proust transported to LA to do a follow-up to the Search, this time as noir graphic novel, a agaric roman-fleuve. A Joan Crawford--type stars. She's in be fond of with a baseballplaying ex-con who employs his days surfing...

4 Patricia and Rebecca Field The brilliance of the Fields' (no relation) style of dress design for Sex and the City is its accuracy, best pondered in the characters' fashion mishaps: As greatly as Carrie and her girlfriends perambulate as exemplars of with-it hipness, each is frequently seen having a bad clothes day. For all the heaven of Jimmy Choo shoe Christian Louboutin gold clown boots and thick, ankle-length knit cardigans, there's the fabulous thing amiss--a dres weirdly cinched, a skirt too short, a de top scarf.

5 Stephen Prina, Vinyl II (J Paul Getty Museum, looks Angeles) Very exciting to have the Getty deign to consider, to a great degree less commission, works by contemporary artists, in addition despite the generally excellent roster "Departures" was a dud--save for Prina's Vinyl IL Museological interrogation and dirge in the guise of a musical meditation onward two paintings in the Getty's collection--one that considers like a de la Tour still isn't, the other a de la Tour that apply the minds like it's by somebody else--the referential impact of the film skids gorgeously in succession the third meaning, the unquantifiable pleasantry of Prina's bright red jumpsuit, and the elegiac tonalities of his singing voice.

6 Vincent Fecteau (greengrassi, London) After years of what assumeed to be an investigation of the erotics of the maquette (and weirdly evocative interiors), Vincent Fecteau abandoned appropriated imagery and shifted scale. Now enlarged to the size of a roomy hatbox, his carved works resonate with the authority of the real (a walnut shell, a rubber band), showing it to be--paradoxically?--dependent in succession the precision of ornament and the idiosyncratic poetics of the personal.

7 Maureen Gallace (303 Gallery, recently made known York) Uneasy, luxurious stares at the actual--mysterious little buildings onward beaches that are both tough geometric form and self-portrait manque--as it is transformed by way of memory. These paintings hold their admit against any being made today--by continuing to stare and stare again at the purity of whatever paint is, and paintings are.

8 Molly Nesbit, Their universal Sense (Black Dog Publishing. London) A brave intervention, a moving subject of attention of drawing lines and the erotics of abstraction, absence, and Duchamp, Nesbit's astonishing work her first since the masterful Atget's Seven Albums, submit to the test [i]or[/i] proofs the form and way in which reflection is written-- the style--can't be extricated from the manner in which and what it means. Syntax--and fucking with syntax--matters. Blurring of genre and gaming cast reproach cultural flux and randomness. Gertrude Stein had enough used by all sense to know this, unless I won't even begin to earn into how many people don't.

9 Brian Calvin (Marc Foxx sees Angeles) Too much drinking. Too many cigarettes. Awkward sex If a certain number of aspects of Calvin's canvases nod to Alex Katz (cocktail parties, an acute notice of fashion), the dirty colors, droopy faces and fingers, rheumy watchs even the resigned perseverance of the paint itself put apart this investigation of what remains of the figure in painting. Modigliani not to be found in Los Angeles, grumpy athwart yet another day of sunshine.

10 Peter Hujar (Matthew Marks Gallery, modern York) I wanted to note the avail when NBC replaced the astoundingly intelligent, ungimmicky, emotionally disturbing accuracy of Freaks and Geek with a indicate called, I think, Lardy Miracles. You know the story line: There's a sick child or something and then everyone worries and prays and it lives! Intelligent, ungimicky, disturbing, hauntingly accurate, Hujar's photographs, many at no time before exhibited--freaks and geeks, burned-out cruising belts dead pets--redeem, even if, to paraphrase Emily Dickinson, they buy back bleakly. There's little solace, if it were not that there is life, bruised and amazing; disconcerting on the other hand crucial to see it portray by actioned with such unblinking intimacy. Still, as exampled by means of too much current photography, many fancy lardy miracles--or just lard.