Jane Wilson has always been part traditionalist and part modernist. Her seascapes reflect the low horizons of 17th-century Dutch seascapes, and the evocative atmospheres of John Constable’s and J.M.W. Turner’s sky studies. She draws even more, however, upon the enveloping, thrumming textures of Abstract Expressionism. The abstracted nature of her paintings’ rhythms is explicit, with dramas of space and light paralleling those of the seashore rather than literally recording them.

One might suspect that after more than 20 years of devotion to her motif, Ms. Wilson’s interest might start to flag. Her 17 recent oil paintings at DC Moore, though, are as intense and varied as the weather itself.

The artist delicately swirls, dots, smoothes, and scumbles her colors in vibrating layers. Pinks, yellows, and oranges mingle with blues, alternately limpid and metallic, and greens ranging from lime to emerald. Though produced in the studio from her imagination, these paintings often contain surprisingly specific impressions: the light raking diagonally across horizontal tiers of clouds in “Rain Drift” (2005); the moonlighttinged crest of clouds sweeping upward, like a massive wave, in “Electric Midnight” (2005).

Most compelling are canvases in which paradoxes of paint evoke those of nature. In “First Light” (2006), thin, multiple layers of greens, blues, and pinks, seemingly rubbed into the canvas’s surface, evoke the sky’s haze, milesthick yet buoyant, above the ocean’s anchoring mass. Washy strokes convey the broken-up sheen of the water’s surface, and also, somehow, its immense, receding weight.

Abstract Expressionism’s “allover” space tends to emphasize atmosphere and textures over the orchestration of events, and it’s no surprise that Ms. Wilson sometimes foregoes a Turner-esque sense of urgent internal scale — that is, of focused moments anticipating larger gestures, and a singular, gathering denouement. Intriguingly, however, some tiny watercolors in the exhibition achieve precisely this effect. In “Clouds Moving In” (2003), several clouds, neutral in hue but specific in the disposition of their shapes, chug above the horizon. Their irregular precision contrasts exquisitely with the radiant sweeps of sky and water, giving expansive dimension to an image only 7 inches across.

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McKenzie Fine Art’s current exhibition pairs two mid-career painters who bring surprisingly different attitudes to hard-edge geometric abstraction.

Don Voisine (b. 1952) paints with a handsomely restrained palette, and a buttoned-up exuberance of rhythm. Slightly overlapping darks, varied in tone and glossiness, form the centers of his 20 crisp compositions on wood panels. Thinner colored bands appear near their edges, with the areas in-between populated by smaller, highly contrasting white and off-white elements.

A playful call-and-response connects his colors and forms, so that slight asymmetries set off locomotions of events. In “Lowdown” (2006), a slight imbalance in the surrounding light areas tug at the depths of black and gray. Here, as with his other panels at McKenzie, the tightness of facture belies a generous engagement with the paintings’ inner workings.

The paintings of Mark Dagley (b. 1957) have a more exclamatory effect: less contemplative internally, but more exultant in style. His paintings employ numerous colored rays, emanating from a single corner as wedges of intense color, or arrayed as lines fanning across light backgrounds from points spaced along the edges. The many intersections of lines create new patterns; the pale background of “Spectral Presence” (2006), for instance, shows through as quivering pillars climbing its nearly 5-foot height. In several smaller, circular canvases, lines radiate from the center as colored arcs or fan from the edges, accumulating in a matted, geometric space. Somewhat less satisfying is the 7-footwide “Neutral Value Vortex” (2006); its countless small black, gray, and white dots, arranged in arbitrarily shifting circles, suggest the hygienic hypnotism of 1960s Op Art.

Do Mr. Dagley’s paintings represent computer-age mandalas? Their rather generic titles (“Hued Spiral,” “Saturation Point”) leave us wondering, but they certainly function as evocative signs, their inventiveness lying in energetic premises carried to colorful ends.

The two artists’ paintings hang in separate groupings, and also sometimes are interspersed on the walls. At one point, the robust, ordered lyricism of Mr. Voisine’s “Ava” (2006) neatly complements the electric airiness of Mr. Dagley’s nearby “Spectral Presence.” Both use formal elements to urge us to another plane of feeling, but their rhythms reflect very different approaches.

Wilson until February 10 (724 Fifth Ave., between 56th and 57th streets, 212-247-2111).

Dagley and Voisine until February 10 (511 W. 25th St., between Tenth and Eleventh avenues, 212-989-5467).