A Lifetime of Observations Put on Canvas : Painter Esteban Vicente, 89, has no intention of retiring

After 70 years of painting, Esteban Vicente still has to paint. The 89-year-old painter and collage artist is one of the last active members of the first generation of the New York School, the group of Abstract Expressionists that included Willem de Kooning, Jackson Pollack and Franz Kline.

Born in Spain, he regularly accompanied his father on visits to the Prado Museum in Madrid beginning at age 4. In the 1920s, after studying sculpture in art school, he turned to painting. He left Madrid for Paris in 1929 where he painted, but earned a living retouching photographs and working on theater sets for the Folies-Bergere.

In 1936, he moved to New York, where he became an American citizen in 1940. Last year, the king and queen of Spain presented him with the Gold Medal for the Fine Arts, Spain’s highest honor for a lifetime of achievement in the arts. Artists previously honored include Juan Miro, Rufino Tamayo and filmmaker Luis Bunuel.

Last fall, he described his paintings to an East Hampton Star Newspaper reporter as “interior landscapes, in a sense an inner accumulation of my visual experiences, something that comes from inside of me but is related to the outside.”

“You observe life forever. If you don’t, you’re not a painter,” Vicente added via telephone from New York before coming to Los Angeles to attend Thursday’s opening of his show at Louis Newman Galleries. On view is a survey exhibit of about 30 of his non-representational works spanning the past 40 years. Many of the paintings were completed within the last two years.

“There is a wonderful atmospheric quality to his work. A metaphysical mantel surrounds amorphous objects that float through a type of liquid space,” said gallery director Louis Newman. “They’re very spiritual, but ground in the human condition. His humanistic approach to art appeals to me greatly.”

Color is central to the moods and emotions of his work, whether it is the lavender and calm greens of his 1967 painting, “Quietness,” or the hot oranges and red of “Tremor” (1991). Several of his 1990s paintings refer to a more harmonious side of nature--its “Splendor,” “Silence” and “Nuance.” In “Symphony” (1982), a more representational piece, abstract figures glide in lyrical movement.

“Vicente is aesthetically and historically important because he fills a gap between Abstract Expressionism and Minimalism,” Newman said. “His approach is special because there is a link between the New York School and his Spanish past. He hasn’t been given enough exposure here on the West Coast.”

“Painting is my life. I wanted it and I don’t complain about the effort and the pain I had to go through to do it,” Vicente said. “Anybody involved in the creative process needs freedom, and with that is the condition of loneliness.”

Vicente paints every day, and has no intention of slowing down. “A lawyer or a businessman, they retire,” he said. “A poet or a painter, you are forever, until you die.”

“Esteban Vicente,” at Louis Newman Galleries, 322 N. Beverly Drive, Beverly Hills, through March 26. Open 10 a.m.-9:30 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday, and 10 a.m.-6:30 p.m. Sunday and Monday. Call (310) 278-6311.

OTHER FACES: Painter Harry Blitzstein says when he looks at a piece of plywood, he sees eyes and faces. He can see faces in clouds and rain puddles, even in tools.

He tried painting abstraction, but it didn’t hold his interest. He says he can’t do landscapes because here in L.A. he only sees cars whizzing by.

So Blitzstein paints faces, the way he sees them in those clouds and puddles, and the deep recesses of his subconscious. Nobody has ever seen “Manny, Moe and Jack” quite like Blitzstein does. Or “Lawrence Welk’s Band” for that matter.

More than 150 of Blitzstein’s portraits spanning 25 years are on display in a veritable sea of quirky humanity at the George Mayers Gallery.

While his people bear a strong resemblance to misshapen creatures from B-movie horror films, there is something truly endearing about them. Rather than frighten or repel, they often make viewers laugh. Perhaps viewers recognize their own frustrations and anxieties in “Visit to a Kaiser Doctor” or “She Finally Realized That Her Boyfriend Wasn’t Human.”

“I’m trying to paint emotions, human conditions. My paintings are X-rays of the gut feelings and expressions,” Blitzstein said.

Blitzstein added that over the years he has felt freer not only to express his feelings, but to do it with color. “I like to see how bright or how many colors I can put on the canvas,” he said.

In “Watching for Scuds,” a 1991 oil on canvas painting, the terror in the face recalls Edvard Munch’s “The Scream,” but through Blitzstein’s blazing colors comes not sheer terror, but a more complex, ironic view of the subject’s predicament.

There are self-portraits here too, including “Portrait of the Artist as a Baby,” and “Artist as Grasshopper.” “They’re all self-portraits,” he said. “Every artist’s work is an autobiographical statement. I try to unzip my chest and see what’s inside.”

“Portraits by Harry Blitzstein” at George Mayers Gallery, 657 N. La Cienega Blvd., Los Angeles, through March 20. Open 10 a.m.-5 p.m. Monday through Friday. Call (310) 854-6653.