Orange Crush," "Green Pink Caviar," "Blue Poles," "Smash" — her best work pumps up the volume of glossy commercial advertisements to billboard dimensions. The colors are lush, the tactile surfaces shiny and the swirl of moist, organic forms orgiastic.
Visually they're exhausting. That's a benefit. When you slow down to catch your breath, you begin to see a lot.
Finally she kicks and shatters the previously invisible glass parallel to the screen's surface, like the one in Namuth's Pollock film. For me, the breakage speaks to the dismantling of an entire postwar American aesthetic. She may be the first New York-based painter to have fully transformed Hans Hofmann's thinking, a generation after the fabled teacher's death, into an inescapably American idiom.