Adria Sartore’s unimpressed redhead, Flora 9, looks like she’s just landed, but we’re not sure from where or when. She could be a discarded muse thrown from a nineteenth-century portal by Renoir’s equally non-amused wife. Or a wayward Cylon ejected from the base ship for some petty crime like, say, the love of a human. Someone has not done her right. She hangs amid a group show of portraits at Eleven Rivington through Friday.