Eva Hoffmann’s paintings are as straightforward and logical as math equations. They are sturdy, reliable, as if they were engineered rather than painted, put together with a welder rather than with a brush. Her paintings omit any detail that might burden the eye in order to show that the forms, which lack the evasiveness that characterizes so much of the art in our frenetic age, are the point.

Hoffmann is audaciously decisive and unwilling to leave the viewer in discomfort. With near messianic zeal, she does what our nervous generation, glutted with choices, is often unable to do: she selects one path knowing that, in so doing, she rejects infinitely many others.