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Delia Brown has done something rare and daring here. She’s playing the roles of a privileged mother and amateurish portraitist at the same time, with delicate, sweet-as-pie but sharp-as-a-tack pictures of herself surrounded by her well-dressed, well-behaved babies. It’s a fantasy, but it takes on something that’s almost never talked about: The art world’s suspicion that motherhood and success may be antithetical. Brown’s color is glowing and golden, her touch is dexterous, and her paintings are tight. But there’s also something taboo about what she’s doing. She flirts not only with child porn, but also the totally devalued styles of the old-fashioned suburban portrait painter. The combination can be breathtaking. This show seems like the beginning of some very large investigation into art and unwritten art-world mores. — Jerry Saltz