Long considered an artist’s artist who has eluded well-deserved fame, Brenda Goodman has been expanding the strictures of painting with art that is at once playful, material, and cerebral. In a new series of work, Goodman returns to using linoleum cutters on wood to carve lines that alternately read as delicate drawings, furrows of skin, or the craquelure in oil paintings. Although her configurations appear to be planned, Goodman proceeds intuitively – a process where each choice in color and form leads organically to another. Curvaceous forms glide, collide, imbricate, and morph innately into spatial compositions that suggest biomorphic bodies but may have no need for figuration at all. Occasionally they are aided by swaths of thick impasto, dynamic markmaking or kaleidoscopic fragments. Goodman is a wizard with color. Leafy greens, dynamic oranges, and flashes of brilliant blues and yellows alternate with earthy tones that get grounded with weighty patches of black. Most of her symphonious paintings bear bulbous outlines that give them a keyhole quality and add to their condition as hidden expeditions into the sublime. At Sikkema Jenkins through February 23.