Ambition is often measured in feet, the larger the grander. But ambition can be tiny and constant, too. Amy Geishert has for years been drafting dense geometries that would easily fit inside a wallet. Larger ones might need a CD case. Though full of neat black lines, they’re entirely freehand, their spectrum courtesy Prismacolor. In resemblance they fall somewhere between mandalas, Buddhist representations of the universe painstakingly made from colored sand; disco floors, with all their fabulous flashing lights; Grateful Dead psychedelia, minus the insignias; and organic structures like cells and shells, as seen under a microscope. Snippets of art deco, M.C. Escher and stained glass pop up here and there, too. Working—and looking—at such a small scale, in recurrent patterns, insists on intimacy, care and precision, but also threatens boredom and eye strain. But if it’s worked for Buddhist monks for thousands of years, it can work for Amy Geishert for a few decades more.
—Lori Waxman 11/28/15 5:29 PM