"Painting is like a game of chess" Samuel Bak once told me; "you have to foresee things, but you can't foresee everything." He might have been speaking of the human condition, of the uncertainty of individual lives within time or the variable cadences of history's random rhythms. Viewers of the paintings in Bak's new series who know the basic rules of chess will recognize their relevance to our experience in the twentieth century. The very language used to describe the contest reflects a portion of our reality we have almost grown accustomed to. Chess begins with two "regiments" of equal capacity lined up in facing ranks, but this orderly image quickly crumbles as each player seeks to crush its opponent through attack, counterattack, and strategic withdrawal. The familiar virtues that govern an ideal civilization play little role in this encounter: faith, trust, goodness, courtesy, and mutual concern are not values shared over a chessboard. Love in particular is absent from this universe of combat that thrives on rivalry and discourages treaties, except for an occasional stalemate or draw. Although each side forges a kind of community among its pieces, the goal remains to defeat the enemy. To be sure, the concept of "sacrifice" applies to both society and chess, but in chess its purpose is to deceive, not to atone or redeem. Cunning, patience and the relentless exploitation of the adversary's mistakes are the strengths required of a potential victor, whose aim is not to establish peace, but only to win and then face the challenge of another game. The title of Bak's series, The Game Continues, introduces us not to a landscape of closure but to an alternating rhythm of invasion and retreat, triumph and humiliation, that resembles the military forays and civil strife of our bloody, war-torn era.

Lawrence L. Langer, excerpt from The Game Continues: Chess in the Art of Samuel Bak