Art Capsule Reviews

 Afternoon Delight Graffiti-inspired artist Jason Brunson presents colorful canvases that look more like creations born in alleyways than like typical gallery fare. But because he doesn't have to be sneaky during the process, Brunson clearly puts in a lot of time and attention refining his images -- which should offer fans of the graffiti aesthetic a breath of fresh air. If you see some pieces that look like they were created by Dalek and others that look like the notorious Scribe might have had a hand in them, you are not mistaken -- the two well-known street artists collaborated with Brunson on a few of the pieces on display. Creatures that look like grumpy old men in bug suits buzz around against brightly colored skies, and creatures that look like the offspring of a bunny and a green-tongued alien wear heart-shaped tattoos and fancy hats. Fluorescent, character-driven and lively, this show managed to hold a decent-sized crowd in a cramped hallway for much of its opening night, which says a great deal for its charisma. Through March 26 at the Leedy-Voulkos Art Center, 2012 Baltimore, 816-474-1917. (G.K.)

Blue Gallery Without a theme to hold together the works on display here, the thing that unifies this show is the taste of gallerists Kelly and David Kuhn. Viewers tend to come away with a vague feeling of connectedness but not a defining subject matter or style. Any given viewer will gravitate toward a few specific artists. For us, this time around, those were Joe Ramiro Garcia and Rich Bowman. Ramiro Garcia's painting "Helpless" might have spoken more loudly to us than usual because of the fast-approaching tax season. In it, a painted page from a ledger book details one man's finances and is blotted out here and there by a beautiful, errant flower; subtly squeezed into the lower right-hand corner, in the same writing used to log expenses, is a note-to-self: Ask for help. Meanwhile, Bowman's orangey paintings somehow manage to convey that they are landscapes and cityscapes at sundown, in spite of the fact that they involve very few markings. They are so minimal that they verge on abstraction. Works by several other artists represented by the Blue Gallery are also on display at 9 W. 19th St., 816-527-0823. (G.K.)

From Bingham to Benton, Midwest as Muse Those of us who grew up around here have seen paintings by Thomas Hart Benton and company from such an early age, and on such abysmally boring field trips, that the artists' work constitutes -- for us -- the visual equivalent of white noise. Incredibly, this exhibit could change that. George Caleb Bingham's "The Jolly Flatboatmen" alone would be worth the visit. Created in 1847, the painting enraged New York art appreciators for two reasons. First, the boatmen on the river playing fiddles, drinking and dancing were viewed as lowly commoners unworthy of a portrait. Second, the tranquil float scene did not cater to New Yorkers' fantasies of life in the wild, wild West. It's kind of like how, when you head to the coasts, people feel gypped that the only Kansan they know can't milk a cow. On display through July 31 at the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art, 4525 Oak, 816-751-1278. (G.K.)

A Hairy Tale Jerry Seinfeld once mused that hair -- when attached to a person's head -- is luscious and begs admirers to run their fingers through it, yet, once detached and stranded in, say, a casserole, instantly transforms into something gross. For A Hairy Tale, Naoko Wowsugi cut her friends' hair and rolled it into balls that float about the open Fahrenheit Gallery space like tumbleweeds. The effect is not gross. Instead, it makes the gallery feel like some deserted corner of the world. In fact, that's the effect of this entire three-person collaboration. Wowsugi's photographs contain a great deal of empty, white space. A photograph of a girl lying on her stomach is printed on a long, narrow sheet of mostly white photo paper that stretches up one wall, across a specially constructed archway and back down the opposite wall, forming a canopy over viewers. Aaron Wrinkle's adjacent installation of a low-hanging chandelier ensures that the viewer sees his or her own shadow on the photo paper. Meanwhile, Anthony Baab's nearby landscape contains a lot of sky but only a little bit of glacier -- off in the lower right-hand corner of a smudgy, blue-and-white tableau is a jagged ice formation rendered in simple, streamlined vectors, as it might be mapped by some kind of geological architect. Through March 11 at the Fahrenheit Gallery, 1717 West 9th St., 816-474-5477. (G.K.)