All This Senseless Beauty

And Peters offers a series of several headshots of model-pretty young women juxtaposed on a powder-blue and lavender sky. His sky strokes are blocky yet soft, creating an impression like that when a computer image hasn't yet reached its high resolution.

They're beautifully done, Peters' pretty blondes in their braids. But they're so pretty; compared to Dubin's stable of sly, witty women with their heels half-off and their drinks in their hands as they toast, they seem as unformed as fetuses. They haven't lived yet; they're blank slates and lovely innocents, and where's the fun in that? It makes you pine for the time 15 minutes before when you were looking at Bachardy's oversexed young men, with the ill-concealed (and a little off-putting) promise in their eyes.

I'll be waiting for my invitation, Peter Blake.