‘Golden Moments’ of Nostalgia and Affection Found in Hall’s Paintings

D.J. Hall has carved a singular niche in L.A. art. She paints that genre of women who have nothing to do but amuse themselves. They loll at pool and beach, have lunch on terraces and smile for the girlfriend taking the commemorative snapshots today.

The paintings’ subject matter might be said to be relaxation, but there is nothing at ease about either the subjects or their rendering. The women are usually pretty and often blond, but the unforgiving artist records every nuance of a wrinkle.

They usually wear sunglasses, which distance them emotionally. They’ve reached that age where looking good requires an effort. Having nothing else to do they fight this losing skirmish. They look tense.

Sometimes Hall depicts them with their mothers, which only heightens the feeling that these images are somehow failed portraits of female Dorian Grays.

Hall works in the meticulous and demanding style of Photorealism. It’s so emotionally neutral that her slightly satirical edge has always seemed ambiguous, as if it weren’t quite intended. Her present show marks a departure that, by contrast, suggests that equivocation was exactly what she felt. Now it seems clear that what she feels is affection and nostalgia.

“Golden Moments” at the Koplin Gallery is very much in Hall’s familiar style with some telling differences. She’s come way down in size to formats not much larger than a foot in each direction. Several of the 18 works hinge three or four panels together. They have painted mats of deep azure blue.

“Bliss Again” begins with a cloudscape, then pans toward a beach deserted except for umbrellas. Then we see a trademark Hall blond in medium close-up, smiling bravely. The last image is another of clouds tinted by dusk and farther away.

The multi-image format suggests the passage of time. So do four boxes she’s painted. Each bears a different blond and a lettered word--Magic, Summer, Bliss, Delight. They are like containers for precious memories. There are lingering suggestions of life unfulfilled. There are no men around. The height of self-indulgence isn’t a steak and good wine. It’s still-lifes of two cupcakes and a cobalt-blue bottle of mineral water.

But the surroundings are sensuously beautiful. The paintings say that, whatever’s wrong with it, this life is more than good enough. They’re sadly lyrical.

* Koplin Gallery, 464 Robertson Blvd., through Jan. 4, closed Mondays, (310) 657-9843.