Alexander Kroll's paintings have gravitational pulls in a single direction: in. Led by color and texture alone, their little questions—is this line or that line on top?—lead to big answers about how profoundly satisfying paint is, and about how looking is not a means to an end (seeing) but an end in itself (it doesn't matter that you can't tell whether you're on the inside or the outside of the fence you're looking through; the point is that you're still seeing even when you don't know what you're seeing).

They're small. That's part of their charm—the way their gravitational pull is concentrated in such a little area. No longer than 20 inches to a side. More often much less.

See them at James Harris through the 27th. They're all untitled. Seeing is forgetting the name of the thing one sees.