ART REVIEW : Collecting Black Art for Its Own Sake in ‘Collects’

Along with artists’ retrospectives, historical surveys and thematic investigations, exhibitions of art collections have become standard museum fare. It’s only natural that people who have gone to the trouble and expense of building collections would want to share them. Too often, though, these exhibitions are self-serving affairs aimed at massaging the egos of prospective donors or awarding star status to collectors while forgetting the art and those who made it.

If “Los Angeles Collects,” at the Museum of African American Art (through Dec. 27), has other than the purest motives, however, they are not apparent. The eclectic show of works by black artists simply reminds us that collecting can be rewarding because the art itself is enriching. More to the point, “Los Angeles Collects” also demonstrates that collectors who turn their attention to black artists will find no shortage of quality. That may not be news, but it’s a message worth repeating.

Tucked away in the May Co. on Crenshaw Boulevard, the museum remains the best-kept secret of a dreary shopping center currently undergoing renovation. The entrance to the museum is on the store’s third floor, between the elevators and the luggage department. At the end of a hallway we find a gift shop, an efficient-looking office and a large, peaceful gallery filled with 49 works by 30 artists.

Composed of paintings, sculptures, prints, collages and drawings from 15 collections, the show makes no attempt to present a unified point of view. Arranged by collector, not artist, it rolls along from Sam Wilson’s splashy abstract painting to Richmond Barthe’s glossy bronze images of physical perfection, a tropical landscape by Romare Bearden and two Senegalese folk paintings on glass. The mood is equally changeable, running from dance-hall ecstasy--in Richard Yarde’s watercolor of exuberant rug cutters--to the oppressive apprehension that pulses through John Biggers’ drawing of a family shrinking into a shadowy huddle.

Amid the varied array, we occasionally confront a batch of works by an old friend who looks better than ever. Take Alison Saar, a young old friend who happens to be the daughter of artist Betye Saar (also represented here) and a creative spirit who has soared off into her own sphere. Four of Alison’s pieces, formerly shown at the Jan Baum Gallery, dominate the exhibition with the sheer force of an energetic imagination.

Though unusually large, the 9-foot-tall, wood and tin figure, “Leroy ‘Phoenix’ Lefeu,” is a typical mixture of Saar’s street smarts and magic. All muscled and cocky, with a phoenix and flames engraved on his bare chest, Leroy stands on a funnel of wooden smoke. Wearing shades and smoking a cigarette, our hero is crowned by a sunburst.

It’s good to see Raymond Saunders’ mixed-media construction, “Question (Arab and Jew),” again too, for it is surely one of his most successfully pointed commentaries. Toylike and charming, the piece spells out Egypt and Israel on alphabet blocks. On top of the blocks are a toy soldier, an Arabic bottle of mineral water and a framed drawing of two figures bearing the caption, “A puppet play from the Middle East featuring the United States.”

Another artist liberally represented here is, predictably, the late Charles White, who served as role model for many black artists and a social conscience for a huge audience. With its combination of technical facility and social purpose, White’s art probably spurred many an admirer into starting an art collection.

Eight examples of his oeuvre are here: a painting of a pregnant woman whose contemplation of the new life within her is colored by foreboding; a trademark ink drawing called “Roots,” depicting a heroic female field worker with an immense bundle on her head, and several sadly expressive portraits of black women.

Moving on, we find that Matthew Thomas’ three nonobjective works confirm his sensitivity to color, texture and the evocative power of a meandering line, but most other artists are represented by a single piece--not enough to relate much of their character. In the case of Maren Hassinger, a tiny row of wire tree forms barely suggests the haunting mood of her large installations.

A single print called “Flag Day” by David Hammons makes a strong impact, however. Split down the middle with a cropped American flag crisply printed on the left and an elusive dark figure on the right, the image speaks of the rigidity of institutions and the vulnerability of individuals who depend upon them.

The museum is open only three days a week: Fridays and Saturdays, 11 a.m.-6 p.m.; Sundays, noon to 5 p.m. Information: (213) 294-7071.