'Nest Egg Omelette'
Through Oct. 15, Linc Real Art

THEY'RE SUCH SIMPLE pictures, but Tucker Nichols's drawings aren't so easy to explain. Each one is perfect and finished in its own way, while at the same time as casual and unassuming as a page ripped from a sketchbook. His works seem coy and suggestive at first, coaxing us to think beyond the edges of the paper and imagine what the enigmatic words and images are trying to get at. But they also revel in their own smallness and self-reflexivity, refusing to point outside themselves and instead pulling us into their insulated little world. Nichols's word-labels are similarly cryptic. You can almost imagine them insisting that they're just labels – that they don't mean anything they don't say – and they don't really make a big show of cleverness, although they are definitely witty in a mysterious kind of way. "Sliced pickles come from pickles." "No rocks." "Make it count." Are they warnings? Observations? They certainly walk a fine line between vagueness and totally guileless simplicity, neatly sidestepping self-conscious irony without coming off as naive. Nichols is one of several artists featured in Linc Real Art's first show in its sunny new Market Street space, which used to be the Red Desert cactus shop. A continuous video loop of Michelangelo Antonioni's Red Desert, playing unobtrusively in one corner, preserves a little bit of the store's former ambience. The show is incredibly eclectic; stop by to check out Thomas McGovern's enormous photos of amateur husband-and-wife wrestlers, Sam Tchakalian's sculptural bowls of paint, and Richard Haden's carved-wood BMW gas tank. Clayton Bailey's ingenious pop guns are another highlight; constructed from vintage tools and found wood, brass, and aluminum, they combine elements of space-age and Wild West design and come complete with an instruction pamphlet. Wed.-Sat., noon-6 p.m., 1632 Market, S.F. (415) 503-1981. (Lindsey Westbrook)