Contributed by Jonathan Stevenson / Chicago-based Em Davenport is a Gen-Z-er, still in her twenties, yet her solo show “love,” held over at Galerie Nicolas Robert, reveals a knowing old soul, hip to what got us here. Virtually all her novel paintings radiate the sardonic epiphanies of 1970s women, cued by their titles and brought home by their execution. Constrained and not quite defiant, they’re like characters in the New Hollywood films of Altman, Ashby, Cassavetes, Nichols, Rafelson, and Scorsese – acknowledging, a shade passively, a degree of deference to condescending male-gazers. One grim suggestion is that this generation’s incarnation of the counterculture could, despite the fire lit under it, turn in on itself as its forerunner did.