Beverly Hills

Morton Dimondstein paints the unbeautiful people--ordinary folks in their comfortable clothes. Piecing together several sheets of paper to make an ample surface, he lets his easygoing brush focus on pattern, vivid color and a basic sense of human character. “Regina,” in stinging green beads and a pink mini, smirks as she poses next to a battery of studio lights. “Joshua,” an intense fellow in a striped shirt and tennis shoes, turns his back on a brightly dressed woman who chats with a plump nude. For some reason, the nudes in these paintings--who seem to be studio models--are only ciphers, bulky figures with no discernable personality.

The most that can be said for Dimondstein’s painting style is that it does the job in a workmanlike and self-effacing way. His strength lies in the warmly human but unprettifying eye--verging slightly on caricature--with which he views most of his subjects. “Chris and Dorothy” in particular--two lumpy middle-aged people in drab dress--radiate a simple content with their lot in life. Dimondstein’s abstract “Torso” sculptures share that unpretentious quality. The hollows and planes have an honest, handcrafted look, complete with cracks and blemishes, and the grain of the wood is carefully used to full effect. (Ana Izax Gallerie, 421 N. Rodeo Drive, to Nov. 4.)