No one ever said (at least not until recently) that artists were supposed to be happy, that making art was not a lonely and often excruciating pursuit. Yet even though the art in Obsessive Drawing suggests that its creators have led lives characterized by varying amounts of loneliness and distress, the fact is that their work is uplifting, or certainly more so than anything you would see during an average Saturday trudge through the galleries in Chelsea. It reminds you that the urge to make art may indeed be instinctive, something inborn in our species: a way to make sense of this troubled world and to go on living despite the inescapable flaws in the design.