PHOTO REVIEW : Men’s Look at Men Has Blind Spot : Maleness on exhibit: ‘Persona,’ a show of works by eight photographers, reveals little of the artists’ emotions.

Some men feel bad about being men these days.

Men’s groups are forming to examine the masculine psyche. Some are looking at issues of emotions and emotional maturity. Others are thinking about bonding with each other. Still others are examining issues of power--whether or not they like having it.

Which means men are thinking a lot about themselves. Not exactly something new.

And so, “Persona” opened recently at the Museum of Photographic Arts, a show of works by eight male photographers who--in the view of the show’s organizer, MoPA director Arthur Ollman--are “redefining themselves, their roles in society and their relationships.”

One man looking at other men to see how men view themselves.

But these artists didn’t necessarily make these works with Ollman’s intentions in mind, and the result is a show that doesn’t exactly fit the theme. The works focus on surfaces, on acting out rituals and, in a couple of cases, on trying to figure out the self by looking at others. But there is little evidence of insightful self-revelation or spiritual awakening.

Though much of this art may appear to have substance if seen outside of this show, grouped here the theme seems to rob them of their power.

The show immediately establishes a contrast between quasi-scientific analysis and emotional turbulence.

On the one hand, there’s the work of Chuck Close, who has spent the past couple of decades making photographs and paintings of his own face at a scale about 100 times larger than life. Or John Coplans, who took his own aging body and photographed its flaws up close: down to the broken toenails and bulging belly. Both Close and and Coplans deny themselves any vestige of vanity.

On the other hand, there’s Lucas Samaras, who has mythologized his own image into that of a wildly exotic and dangerously dark creature, a colorful Rasputin. Similarly, William E. Parker has explored the primitivist origins of the psyche through pictures of creepy, monstrous characters. Parker’s photos, however, are not self-portraits.

Such self-absorption--be it clinical or expressionist--still skims only surfaces. In both cases, we learn virtually nothing of how such artists feel about themselves. Is it hatred or fascination with the aging process that led to these pictures? Or, on the other side, do these artists believe they are the monsters? Just what do these men really think, feel or care about?

Jeffrey Wolin and Neil Winokur do a better job of answering such questions, though they do so to the point of deflecting attention away from themselves. Winokur’s installation contains a self-portrait, a picture of his canceled passport and an array of other unrelated objects: a box of animal crackers, a copy of Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s “One Hundred Years of Solitude,” a gun, to make the point that things are manifestations of the person, a kind of “we are what we keep around us” philosophy.

Wolin writes long, involved stories on the surfaces of his photos. They reveal extraordinary honesty and seem to reveal a soul looking for some real insight, despite the fact that they often ramble and sometimes whine. The narratives focus on family members and loved ones: the artist’s father, mother, sister, his pictures display a kind of spiritual exploration of objects: old photographs and various incidental or ritualistic materials that show a depth of feeling otherwise lacking here. Chong’s strength, though, may come from the fact that his search is not just for the self, but for his family’s roots and origins. He doesn’t waste our time looking at his navel, and, as a result, he leaves us wanting to know more about him.

As a whole, this show does little to reassure us that today’s trend of men looking at men is on its way to giving us answers to why the world is the way it is, or what to do to change it. Instead, it indicates that some men might need to take another, more feeling and thoughtful look. “Persona” indicates that there’s still plenty of turf left untouched.

* “Persona,” which also has a catalogue written by Arthur Ollman, continues at the Museum of Photographic Arts in Balboa Park through April 12. Hours are 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. daily and Thursdays until 9 p.m. For information, call 239-5262.