Metaphor-Loving Ruscha Remains True to His Word in This Survey

As the saying goes, a picture is worth a thousand words. But what about a picture of a word? Does it say more than a word on its own? Or any less than a landscape, still-life or portrait?

For more than 40 years, Edward Ruscha has been paying a lot of attention to these curious questions. As a result, he has produced an extraordinary body of work that includes books (in which pictures outnumber words), paintings (in which text gets the upper hand) and prints (in which the two teeter-totter).

At the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, “Edward Ruscha: Editions 1959-1999” efficiently surveys the influential artist’s printed works, which number well over 300. Organized by Minneapolis’ Walker Art Center and accompanied by a two-volume catalogue raisonne, the L.A. installment of the show has been pared down to about two-thirds its original size. Sensibly laid out in loose chronological order by LACMA’s Sharon Goodman, curatorial assistant of prints and drawings, its 126 prints, 17 books and 50 photographs show Ruscha to be a connoisseur of the conundrums created when pictures and words occupy the same space.

The space they occupy is your mind’s eye. In Ruscha’s talented hands, this intangible realm is no less a part of the nitty-gritty real world than the traffic-snarled streets of Los Angeles. Although we usually assume that our inner worlds are our own private retreats and that the outer, visible world is more objective. Ruscha’s art wryly demonstrates that the borders between the two are porous.

Just inside the exhibition’s entrance hangs an image of the Hollywood sign. This 1968 screen print is so vivid in its simplicity that it’s easy to overlook the liberties Ruscha has taken with reality.

His sign is not nestled amid gullies halfway up the hill but positioned at its crest and bathed in the light of a glorious--if impossibly northern--sunrise. Rendered in dramatically idealized one-point perspective, its letters occupy the high ground, marching forward like a conquering army or coming out of nowhere with the righteousness that often accompanies moral convictions. Less a picture of the real world than a marshaling of the forces that keep us involved with it, Ruscha’s streamlined Pop landscape looks as fresh as the best work being made today.

Likewise, his crisp pictures of solitary words that appear to be written in mysteriously suspended liquids fuse reality and fantasy. Recalling the drawings kids make on tabletops with milk spilled from cereal bowls, these works have the presence of crystal-clear mirages.

“Mint,” spelled out in what appears to be pink mouthwash, transforms a bathroom mishap into a magical moment in which tinted liquids obey some laws of physics (forming a meniscus) while flaunting others (hovering in midair, free of gravity’s tug). This, incidentally, is an accurate description of how all illusionistic images--particularly paintings and prints--work. It is also as apt a metaphor for how Ruscha’s pictures function as is to be found in his respectfully indirect art.

“OOO,” “Adios” and “Air” carry on his pragmatic meditations on the ways meaning is conveyed, emphasizing that words usually take on a life of their own as sounds--utterances that come out of our mouths only to disappear (when they fall on deaf ears) or to change shape (when listeners interpret them according to their needs). In contrast, “Anchovy” highlights the after-effects of language, touching on the idea that some words leave a bad taste in your mouth.

Good and bad taste overlap in “News, Mews, Pews, Brews, Stews & Dues,” a suite of six images printed with inks made from variously colored foodstuffs. Black currant pie filling and red salmon roe form the two-toned background (hazy gray over smoky gold) on which “News” is printed in gothic script. The ingredients of “Pews” include Hershey’s chocolate-flavored syrup, Camp coffee, chicory essence and squid ink. These unpalatable combinations trigger visceral reactions that are worlds away from what the words mean on their own.

“Standard,” “Mocha Standard” and “Cheese Mold Standard With Olive” present identical Standard gas stations, sporting prominent signs, in different palettes. In a fourth image, “Double Standard,” Ruscha again uses the same station but adds a second sign. It changes everything.

In fact, one of the most important claims that Ruscha’s art makes is that meaning does not accumulate (like dust or dirty dishes), it shifts. No single set of standards or principles suffice, especially in art as rich in metaphors as Ruscha’s.

What’s most remarkable about his pictures of words is that other words do not stick to them. Explanations and analyses explain very little about the enduring fascination of his works. Literally speaking, they are not even one-liners. Nevertheless, their obviousness segues so swiftly into a world of elusive, impossible-to-pin-down significance that you can’t help but be drawn into it.

A single gallery features all of the books Ruscha has designed and published, which similarly downplay narrative coherence in favor of enigmatic poetry. “Twentysix Gasoline Stations,” “Every Building on the Sunset Strip” (which folds out into a 25-foot-long picture of the famed boulevard) and “Thirtyfour Parking Lots in Los Angeles” bring together plodding egalitarianism and strange pranksterism. Putting pictures where readers expect to find words, Ruscha’s books are mirror images of his prints, the best of which present words that have usurped conventional pictures.

In the 1980s and 1990s, words took a back seat to images in Ruscha’s prints and their resonance diminished. Some series maintain the uncanny kick of his works from the 1960s and 1970s, namely several landscapes, sunlight-filled interiors and airbrushed street maps. But in general, too much cleverness resides in the titles and not enough visual impact is delivered by the images.

Even so, Ruscha ranks among the most original and influential artists of the last half of the 20th century. His peers are Andy Warhol and Roy Lichtenstein, both of whose oeuvres declined more precipitously than is suggested by Ruscha’s prints, which form only a small part of his prodigious, exceptionally inventive output. His recent photographs, which are enlarged versions of images from his books, hold up well, adding a tinge of nostalgia to his otherwise unsentimental imagery.

Fusing graphic design, Conceptual art and painterly illusion with cool efficiency, Ruscha’s art is unparalleled in its capacity to send deliciously mixed messages. In his accessible, evenhanded works, where words and images are given equal weight, sophisticated philosophical propositions rub shoulders with everyday pleasures, which, in the end, turn out to be anything but simple.

* “Edward Ruscha: Editions 1959-1999” Los Angeles County Museum of Art, 5905 Wilshire Blvd., (323) 857-6000, through Aug. 27. Closed Wednesdays. Adults $7; seniors and students $5; children $1.)