Centering a vulva in a picture eases all sorts of structural problems. That’s one takeaway from Yuskavage’s sugary new paintings of nubile and bosomy, naked females in shadowy interiors and glowing fantasy landscapes. Most are seen singly, afire with narcissistic reverie. Two appear together, cozily in flagrante, by a mountain lake. Since the bland pathos of her last show, the artist has remobilized her inner vulgarian, prettily brushing id-drenched apparitions in delectable greens, pale golds, and dense blues. She proposes lucid decadence as a proper aspiration of art in fallen times. Can you let yourself love it? This show tests the resistance of our self-respect to shoot-the-works bliss. Through March 28.