Critic’s Choice: In Charles Garabedian’s paintings, anguish of biblical proportions

In spite of titles that take us back to ancient Greek myths and Biblical stories, Charles Garabedian’s paintings are populated by refugees — men, women and children so far out of their element that their various states of homelessness make being a fish out of water seem like a walk in the park.

Every inch of every picture in Garabedian’s magnificent exhibition at L.A. Louver screams “out of place, out of step, out of whack” along with “out of joint, out of luck” and in some cases “out to lunch.” Trauma, both physical and psychological, is the soil out of which Garabedian’s pictures sprout, blossom and bear fruit.

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Tough judgments are integral to the 92-year-old artist’s Realism. Unsentimental and bracing, Garabedian’s drive to tell the truth is accompanied by his willingness to give fools ample rope. Humor suffuses his deliciously intimate murals, which leave no room for pity — self or otherwise.

Pathos is another matter. It’s there in abundance, its complexities giving his hard-boiled compositions unsettling resonance, uncanny verve and lasting impact.

The events that unfold in the most potent pictures in the “Sacrifice for the Fleet” show take place in the aftermath of major damage. Many figures are naked, their limbs, torsos and necks impossibly contorted. Arms have gone missing or turned into fiery blazes. Two crucifixions are included in Garabedian’s stew of suffering.

In the painting from which the show takes its title, a freshly decapitated body writhes atop a table as its blindfolded head rests peacefully on the floor — worlds away from the gruesome spectacle yet a direct consequence of its violence.

That radical disjuncture — between reality and affect — is the heart and soul of Garabedian’s art.

Other figures appear to have washed up on the beach, fallen among ruins or gotten lost in the wilderness. Alone, in pairs and in groups of four or five, all look as if they are so intimate with life’s cruelties that they have no choice but to pick themselves up and stare fate in the face.

That quiet defiance infuses Garabedian’s figures with something like wisdom. Despite all the anguish, the prevailing atmosphere is optimistic. Purposeful and pointed, playfulness has real kick.

At a time when people describe trips to the gym as epic, Garabedian’s paintings actually are. Blunt and lovely, they put us in touch with the stuff of Greek tragedies and Biblical stories by bringing both up to the minute and down to earth — right where we live.

L.A. Louver, 45 N. Venice Blvd., (310) 822-4955, through Nov. 7. Closed Sundays and Mondays. www.lalouver.com