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In a 1965 essay on postwar science-fiction films Susan Sontag noted a common ingredient: a ''depersonalization'' of the characters, a kind of emotionless zombie state that occurred when their minds were taken over by aliens or robots. Some of this, she wrote, reflected the basic conditions of modern life. But it also pointed toward something new in the nuclear era. Now humans had to contend not only with the fear of death but also the ''psychologically insupportable'' possibility of a ''collective incineration and extinction which could come at any time, virtually without warning.'' Art of the 1960s exhibited similar symptoms of depersonalization. Where anxiety and trauma sat on the surface of slashed, burned and dirt-crusted canvases from the 1940s and '50s, or in the emaciated forms of Giacometti's sculptures, by the late '50s the personal, existential and emotive were replaced by a new detachment. [ABSTRACT FROM PUBLISHER]

Portraits were not just a popular genre in the early days of this nation; they were among the only art that patrons would pay for. As a result, many American artists went abroad, hoping to test their abilities on juicier subjects, like allegorical or historical epics. But portraiture has remained an important American genre, something that can serve as a springboard to larger ideas. This is evident in some of the works in ''American Portraits: Treasures From the Parrish Art Museum'' in Southampton. Rather than proceeding chronologically, the exhibition moves through the human life cycle, a tack that feels appropriate for portraiture. The show also emphasizes the importance of a sense of place -- something that can get lost in the white-wall art space of a museum or gallery -- by featuring lots of local landscapes and East End artists. [ABSTRACT FROM AUTHOR]