Come out of the dark: Ugo Rondinone’s work at Guild Hall lifts us in radiant shots of sunlight. In the two large gallery spaces the walls are bare, lit by fluorescen fixtures. You might be mistaken to think you are in Walmart under this austere light, but the effect on the art is, well, looking in full sun, stunning. In one gallery, a series of graphic yet shimmering circles in gold and yellow are juxtaposed with Guild Hall’s regal space. In another gallery, large hoops made of twigs work as frames, and the few hung on the wall with nails suggest Christ’s crown of thorns, a beatific sight. In a third gallery, hung shingle style, are hundreds of children’s drawings of the sun, some in blazing color. Everywhere at Guild Hall, the suggestion of hope offers a glimpse of a better future.

At the opening, many artists milled about to celebrate with the artist: his partner, poet John Giorno who currently occupies “the Bunker,” the Bowery loft, a windowless former YMCA the writer William S. Burroughs called home. His memoir about his long friendships with the beat literati will be published in March. Salman Rushdie was also on hand, exulting in the publication of a new novel, Quichotte, this fall. Artists galore dotted the galleries, weaving around the hanging gold-tinged branches: Billy Sullivan, Toni Ross, Ralph Gibson, Judith Hudson, and Michael Halsband.

After Bob Colacello’s opening remarks lauding Guild Hall’s elegant resistance to the gaudy changes brought to the Hamptons with the onset of McMansions, pricy boutiques, and malls, Eric Fishl paid tribute to Michael Lynne, who among his many credits as head of New Line Cinema and owner of Bedell Vintners on the North Shore, was among the East End’s most generous philanthropists and art lovers. Lynne died earlier this year and is already sorely missed. Ugo Rondinone’s central image is resonant: what goes around, comes around