Frances Stark's new exhibition, the Los Angeles-based artist's third in New York, possesses a jouissance born of a complete grasp of materials, process, and intentions. Her non-narrative collages (and three "soft secretaries," filled with mass mailers and other desktop detritus) offer a peek at Stark's studio inspirations and, perhaps, an oblique portrait of her "office life" as a writer (a book collecting ten years of her criticism was published two years ago). Some works are delicate, comprised of exhibition announcement cards cut into tiny fragments and taped onto rice paper in surprisingly recognizable arrangements (Shaggy Headed and Showy Headed, both 2005, are schematic renderings of chrysanthemums that look like Ô70s Prince Valiant haircuts seen from behind). Others, abstract, deploy her signature typewritten fragments in dynamic compositions (like Carl Andre's typewritten pieces sent unsteadily in every direction) that sprout from the bottom edge of canvas boards. And a showy peacock, depicted in head-on and rear views, is an apt metaphor for an artist so obviously delighting in her powers.