The New York Times, January 28, 2001: "The 20th Century, All Pieced Together,"
_{by William Zimmer (excerpt)}
Because the exhibition is fairly clamorous, the quiet contibutions of Paul Villinski are appealing. Especially so is "Wind," which makes use of shadows cast by spindly flowers all in a row.
(In a review of "Amalgamation" John Slade Ely House, New Haven, CT)

The New Haven Advocate, January 25, 2001: "How to Get into a Good Collage,"
_{by Hank Hoffman (excerpt)}
Lest one get the impression that all the work borders on sensory overload, several works by Paul Villinski -- though they stretch the boundaries of the show -- are delicate. Using thin sheets of silvery metal and light, the beautiful "Wind" is mounted on a white wall along the upper hall. A series of small metal sculptures -- a feather, butterflies, a human hand, a dragonfly, maple leaves and a bird poised in flight -- are interposed between the wall and a tiny white light. The result is wall shadows that are as light as air. In fact, a puff of breath sends them fluttering.
(In a review of "Amalgamation" John Slade Ely House, New Haven, CT)

The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, September 1, 2001: "Transcendent works reach for the 'Aether',"
_{by Mary Thomas (excerpt)}
New York artist Paul Villinski's "Lament," comprising found knit gloves and backpack frame, speaks to man's desire to soar kept earthbound by the limitations of the human condition. It's in the exhibition "Aether" at CMU's Miller Gallery...Villinski appears playful with his constructions inspired by flight, and he is. But within his sculptures is a longing, the disjunct between the human desire to soar and his clunky success in the air; between the promise of the ether and the clay feet of man.
(In a review of "Aether" Carnegie Mellon University Miller Gallery, Pittsburgh, PA)

The New York Times, September 17, 2000: "First, Take a Piece of Paper"
_{by William Zimmer (excerpt)}
At the Hammond Museum here, "Unfolding Visions" displays the results of giving artists "fan paper" to work on. The paper was then made into 10-ribbed fans used primarily in Japanese dance.
One fan stands out from the rest on its concept and execution, and it might be a tribute to American ingenuity. Paul Villinski of Long Island City made a collage of the many rejection letters he has received in the course of trying to show his art. What this has to do with a fan is a matter of conjecture, but it might help him cool down after being turned down.
(In a review of "Unfolding Visions," Hammond Museum, North Salem, MA)

The New York Times, August 29, 1999: "In Islip, Experimentation and Installation,"
_{by Helen A. Harrison (excerpt)}
Another remarkable transformation occurs in, of all places, the lavatory, which Paul Villinski has turned into "Sanctuary," a fairyland of dancing shadows. Insects, leaves and human shapes, illuminated by tiny bulbs, cast shimmering silhouettes on every surface, completely recasting the utilitarian room as a garden of unearthly delights. (In a review of "Projects '99," Islip Art Museum, NY)

The Star Ledger, Newark, NJ, February 2, 1997 "Common threads: A show to leave you in stitches,"
_{by Ellen Lubell (excerpt)}
"A work that flaunts its stitchery, and its accomplishment, is Paul Villinski's wonderful "Portrait" (1997), a child's chair sewn to what appear to be majestic angel's wings. The wings are sewn out of dozens of found gray work gloves, the stitches big and brown to call attention to themselves and to hightlight the fingers, which also form the "feathery" under edge of the wings."
(In a review of "Suture," curated by Annie Herron at the Rotunda Gallery, Brooklyn)

Waterfont Week, Brooklyn, NY, January 30, 1997: "Artburger: Wood Grain, Death, Discoballs and Bad Moods,"
_{by Frances Chapman (excerpt)}
The standout piece is Paul Villinski's "Portrait" of a child's chair fronting wings made of found work gloves, which he has made his own art medium. The work uplifts -- it IS wings -- and evokes the tension between childhood daydreams and the nitty gritty of work and loss -- imagination spanning the gap between.
(In a review of "Suture," curated by Annie Herron at the Rotunda Gallery, Brooklyn)