The mix at Tweed - as usual, it is laced with some famous names - doesn't really live up to its title, literally or metaphorically. In fact, its organizer, Sally Swenson, who is also an exhibitor, seems to have made her choices with no special idea in mind.

The selection of the works of 24 artists ranges predictably from items in paper and fabric, variously treated, to paintings, sculpture, constructions, collages, prints and photographs.

It's an overcrowded display that lends support to the hunch that the esthetic sense of artists too often goes no further than the edges of their own work. And unlike the last Tweed gathering witnessed by this reviewer - on that occasion, Richard Haas, the curator, effected a fairly smooth blend of celebrities and aspirants -the ''names'' this time look very much like the come-on they are.

But if all that glitters is not gold, some of it - to pursue the metaphor -is at least gold-plated. For example, Blaise Batko's double popsicle carved from orange alabaster and impaled on wooden sticks is a shocking thing to do to beautiful stone, but it's amusing and clever just the same. So is the artist's melting Hershey bar in black soapstone.

Both, mounted on pedestals faced with mirrors, relate neatly to the nearby conceits of Lucas Samaras, the old Pop master. These involve the word ''draw'' expressed in plaster squeezed like cake frosting onto gauze and painted silver - alone or with patches of purple, pink and green.

Equally jaunty are the brightly colored reliefs of Lynda Benglis that, cast in paper and dusted with glitter, are variations on themes that the artist has explored in her gold leaf constructions.

Still, two of the most interesting sculptures are by A. Kimberlin Blackburn. The larger, called ''When a Woman Enters a Man's Heart,'' has both tribal and Pop overtones.

It consists of a triangular ''head'' in Styrofoam that has been painted black, ornamented with plastic beads and a stream of colored ribbons and then suspended between arching shapes made of wicker-like material painted black.

The other sculpture is an odd little tropical landscape carved from green Styrofoam in which a black and yellow shape that presumably symbolizes a woman stands among palm trees.

Among the best works in two dimensions are the serigraphs of Hiroshi Murata. Both consist of small boomerang-like shapes scattered over grounds that are, respectively, blue and black and aquamarine.

And although they are more at odds than most with the show's supposed theme, the somber, slitted canvases of Kay Walkingstick are noteworthy. So are Miss Swenson's own predominantly black abstractions.

As for the valuable space in the gallery's storefront windows, this is far from satisfactorily filled by quaint tea-cozy shapes made in various materials by Suellen Glashausser.

These, together with Janet Filomena's two large framed shapes of, apparently, tinted paper, are probably best left unanalyzed. So are Franc Palaia's records covered in iridescent metal foil, one of which spins on a turntable, and Charles Kumenick's copper and brass vulvas protruding from steel plates.

For the 2nd  review...

http://www.nytimes.com/1983/05/29/nyregion/art-all-that-glitters-isn-t-always-gold.html