Wilshire Center

Intricately cut stone stele by Jesus Bautista Moroles are always fascinating for their technical prowess. As usual, the form’s imposing monumentality strongly refers to the ancient stone carvers that pulled civilization’s architecture and sculpture from formless rock. But the sharp perpendicular saw cuts that slice though granite like soft cheese do eventually seem a little jaded.

Most of Moroles’ columns and pillars work the single, solid pieces of stone as if it were a material easily coaxed into doing back bends or mimicking the balancing act of a house of cards. But it is the raw and less tricky pieces, such as “Vanishing Edge,” that speak most hauntingly of the artist’s intimate knowledge of stone: how it fractures, how sharp a point it will bear and how much mass can be cut away before the form disintegrates.

Photographer Frank Majore’s surreal, color-dense Cibachrome prints appear to be multi-image ads hyping the glitter of style and image. But a hollow note in all the facile beauty comes from the way the shattered glasses spilling liquid masks, tubes of ruby lipstick and vignettes of women’s faces have all been used to the point of dull campiness by advertising. It’s the keen reflection of the mindless image and gloss of the media that gives Majore’s images their decadence. (Richard Green Gallery, 834 N. La Brea Ave., to March 11.)