Turning paint into a grand landscape

The dialogue between painting and photography has taken many forms over the last 150 years. At the end of the 19th century, artists like Henry Peach Robertson made photographs that looked like paintings. In the late 20th century, Gerhard Richter made paintings that look like photographs. David Hockney photographs his own paintings, while Elizabeth Peyton (among others) paints from her own photos.

Spandau Parks photographs paint itself -- piles and piles of it, heaped onto panels he’s been building up for 30 years. He’s probably not the first to take this approach, but there can be few who’ve achieved more exciting results. Drawing his lens so close to the paint that he seems to be burrowing into it, he reveals aspects of the medium one tends to overlook when given a clearer sense of perspective or scale.

Paint is not a “thing” in this work so much as a world -- not a material but a landscape, full of mystery and grandeur. The 30 works that make up Parks’ exhibition at the Anna Helwing Gallery look more or less alike at a glance: abstract smears of glossy, candy-like color laced with shadowy blacks and browns. As one moves among them, however, unique topographies begin to emerge.

There are peaks, caverns, crevasses and valleys. Pigments intermingle like mineral deposits in seemingly organic patterns. Selective focus and a subtle manipulation of light lend a persuasive sense of depth, suggesting the presence of uncharted corridors within the many folds.

The effect is hypnotic. With each picture, this strange, sticky space feels more and more active, as though it might begin quivering at any moment, extend a few slimy tendrils and pull you in completely.

The impression is enhanced by the fact that the only recognizable object to appear in the heaps of paint is a human face -- specifically a small, pretty doll with closed eyes and cherry-red lips. In some images, she floats near the surface of the paint; in others, she’s buried several layers down and only faintly visible. In each, she’s eerily peaceful, an unwitting Sleeping Beauty preserved in the amber of an alien world.

As passionate as Parks appears to be about paint, what really distinguishes these works is that they’re gorgeous photographs. Cibachromes ranging in size from 11 by 14 inches to 4 by 5 feet (several in multiple groupings), they’re clear and deliciously glossy prints. The slick, bulbous surfaces of the paint sparkle with white highlights. The colors are rich and specific, never muddy, despite being so jumbled.

Most prominent is a hot blood-red. Sea green, peppermint, tangerine and lavender also appear frequently, as well as teal, butterscotch, forest green, peach, a creamy lemon and a velvety purple. They’re sensually evocative colors, calling to mind a vivid array of tastes and smells.

It’s tempting to wonder just what Parks’ paint-laden panels -- his subjects -- look like in person, but the sight would surely be disappointing. These images sit squarely on the fence between the two media. It’s a clever stance, conceptually, but one rooted in experience rather than ideas -- and all the richer for it.

Anna Helwing Gallery, 2766 S. La Cienega Blvd., Los Angeles, (310) 202-2213, through May 8. Closed Sundays and Mondays.

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Christian imagery in difficult medium

The five tapestries in Bruce Conner’s stirring show at the Michael Kohn Gallery were fabricated by the same studio that produced those now hanging in the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels downtown. Like those works -- which were designed by John Nava and feature Realist depictions of the saints -- these are also predominantly figurative and filled with Christian imagery. Derived from a series of black-and-white collages that Conner produced in the late 1980s and early ‘90s, the works make excellent use of a difficult but potentially powerful medium.

The images are bold enough to stand up to the monumental proportions, yet visually complex enough to retain a rich texture. The Renaissance-style iconography plays into the historical nature of the medium, while a Surrealist bent lends them a contemporary vitality.

It’s unlikely they will ever appear in a church. What comes as a surprise is the feeling that that wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

Whatever the nature of Conner’s personal beliefs -- it’s not especially evident here -- there is a striking luminosity to the presence of his Jesus.

The milieu is decidedly Surreal: Several figures have heavy geometric blocks for heads, a bare-breasted woman lounges across one image and Jesus carries a huge pair of scissors in another.

The effect, however, is less wry or clever than almost mystical. Each element contributes an esoteric resonance.

Michael Kohn Gallery, 8071 Beverly Blvd., Los Angeles, (323) 658-8088, through Saturday.

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From the streets of New York

Louis Faurer is not the most famous of the postwar American street photographers, but judging from a sizable exhibition of his work now at the Stephen Cohen Gallery, he deserves to be counted among the best. The tropes of this genre have been so abused over the years that such work comes as a refreshing reminder of what can be achieved.

A good street photograph is like a good haiku: a moment of spare, pregnant synchronicity, perfectly observed. The images assembled here -- while less iconic than those of Robert Frank and less edgy than later photographers like Garry Winogrand and Lee Friedlander -- hit that note just about every time.

Taken in the late ‘40s and early ‘50s, the images capture the spirit of an era. Faurer’s New York is a sea of blazing neon, its sidewalks packed shoulder to shoulder with leisure-loving Americans.

In one comically emblematic image, a man and an adolescent boy stand together amid the bustle, both dressed to the nines, the man wearing an expression of innocent bedazzlement and the boy a veil of pure hipster cool. In another -- the only color image -- three generations of what looks to be a tourist family pose on the sidewalk of Times Square, each relative’s gaze drawn in a different direction.

At the rear of the gallery is a smaller show of work by Ida Wyman, a contemporary of Faurer who still lives in New York. (Faurer died in 2001.) The style is similar but the light is all different, and it’s clear in an instant that you’re back in Los Angeles, where Wyman was temporarily located.

There are a number of noteworthy images here -- indeed, it would have been nice to see more -- but the most endearing is a portrait of a very young, presumably poor girl in curlers, a dirty shirt and suspenders. Hands on hips, she confronts the camera squarely and with a startlingly adult expression, as if daring the photographer to truly see her -- a task essential to the success of the street photographer, and one that Wyman and Faurer were clearly up to.

Stephen Cohen Gallery, 7358 Beverly Blvd., (323) 937-5525, through May 8. Closed Sundays and Mondays.

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Taking off in several directions

There’s a lot of stuff floating around in the paintings, drawings and prints that make up Francesco X. Siqueiros’ exhibition at L2Kontemporary: faces, masks, figurines, musical instruments and knickknacks, as well as numbers, letters, symbols, bits of newsprint and several repeated abstract motifs.

A number of sentiments float through the printed artist’s statement as well -- fragmented observations, glib rhetorical questions and strenuously wrought epigrams. Unfortunately, none of these elements manages to congeal into a concrete sense of purpose.

The imagery feels unmoored from any visual or conceptual system of meaning, and the quality of painting is not enough to carry the work. The result is a sense of potential pointing in multiple directions, but little of substance in the present.

L2Kontemporary, 990 N. Hill St., Chinatown, (323) 225-1288, through May 8. Closed Sundays through Wednesdays.