If Dean Smith ever takes a break, or even breathes, it's hard to tell from his meticulous, obsessive, painstaking pattern art. Like a human spirograph, he maps out abstract organic forms, drawing in tiny pen and pencil strokes to form shapes that pulse with cumulative power. Sometimes they look like mandalas, sometimes like seismograph readings, sometimes like Escher-esque dreams. He shares gallery space with Dean Byington, whose artistic method is similarly strenuous. Byington photocopies his own drawings along with illustrations he collects from books, scans them, silkscreens them onto canvas, then glazes and scrapes. The resulting "paint collages" recall the teeming abundance of Hieronymus Bosch, populated by tiny flora and fauna from some lost 19th-century masterpiece.
