Equinoxes

A child explores the wilderness. A woman clutches a camera to her belly, like a misplaced third eye. An old man feeds his dog things he shouldn’t. Pedrosa’s (Three Shadows) oversize ode to the quotidian is less a thrill ride than a quiet country stroll, but what beauty there is to be found along the way. Each and every page of this pageant is worth lingering over: pencil smears and streaks down the hollows of elderly faces; electric cyan denotes alienation and fear; a cave glows brilliantly scarlet by the light of a single torch. This is a luxurious garden in full bloom, the work of an artist at the height of his powers. Its subdued approach to its material may not engage some readers who prefer a more active story line. But as solely an art book, it is a lavish tribute to the power of sequential art. At its best—and it is frequently at its best—Pedrosa’s work borders on magic. (Sept.)