Seeing the Light With Exquisite Ease

Alex Katz has a knack for making billboard-size paintings that feel intimate. Even if you’re standing among a group of viewers at Fred Hoffman Fine Art in front of “Green Dusk,” the newest (and largest) work in the artist’s solo gallery debut in L.A., this 9-by-20-foot image seems to exist for you alone. So much a part of your vision that no one else could possibly be seeing it as you are, this exquisite picture drifts into consciousness with the ease and familiarity of second nature.

More important, Katz’s monumental oil-on-canvas doesn’t create this impression by communicating some grand, earth-shattering insight or heroic notion, but by matter-of-factly standing in for what anyone might see, glancing up through the thin branches of a handful of leafy trees illuminated by the day’s fading light during the early stages of summer.

The 69-year-old artist’s seemingly simple painting, composed of swift brush strokes and thin washes of color, masterfully captures the completely ordinary yet truly extraordinary sensation of what light looks like as it enters one’s eyes. Deeply rooted in the moments that perceptions hit our faculties, all of Katz’s landscapes are superficial only if you take these inescapable events lightly.

A subtly stunning pair of group portraits generates similar effects. In one, bright summer sunlight bounces off the clothing of seven standing people, flattening them into sparsely modulated silhouettes and forcing you to squint to see them clearly--as if the sun were actually in your eyes. The other 8-by-12-foot canvas shows a more fashionably dressed group bathed in cool, slightly bluish interior light, which shows off more details of their physiques and clothing.

In an adjoining gallery, six portraits of smiling women similarly emphasize how full a moment can be. In these uncanny pictures, Katz makes painting look easy, loading a lot of information about individuality and anonymity into images that still have the wonderfully buoyant presence of the fleeting present.

* Fred Hoffman Fine Art, 1721 Stewart St., Santa Monica, (310) 453-3330, through Feb. 22. Closed Sundays and Mondays.

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Match Game: “After the Hunt,” M.A. Peers’ first solo show in Los Angeles, ranks among the season’s best. Revealing a talented artist who is not afraid to risk making unfashionable, potentially embarrassing paintings, this exhibition at Rosamund Felsen Gallery is heart-warming and tough, at once formally intelligent and packed with a wide range of human sentiments.

Each of Peers’ pictures consists of a larger-than-lifesize dog beautifully painted or drawn on irregularly shaped pieces of upholstery, which have been stripped from sofas and chairs found at thrift stores and in trash heaps.

It’s clear that Peers has lavished as much care and attention on the selection and presentation of the leftover pieces of fabric as she has on the images painted on them. As a result, the demeanor of each dog precisely matches the well-worn fabrics’ diverse patterns.

A slightly skittish Dalmatian stares wide-eyed from a diamond-shaped section of velour, whose vibrant, black-and-white Op Art pattern plays tricks on your eyes. Stylized flowers and abstract leaves form the setting for a playful Labrador. A rustic collection of autumnal plaids perfectly suits an unflappable collie, and dark brown vinyl, adorned with numerous brass studs, masquerades as leather as it serves as the backdrop for a self-confident dachshund who looks convinced he’s a big dog.

Peers’ most outlandish piece is made of about a dozen oddly shaped swatches of brightly colored vinyl and bits of foam stuffing. An extravagantly coiffed poodle fits right in to this highly artificial setting, appearing, like the other dogs, to be happily at home on its matching fabric.

As if they’re all just resting on their favorite cushions, Peers’ dogs look casual and unpretentious. As content as can be, they allow the artist to broach big issues, like loyalty, pride and unconditional love, without getting sappy or heavy-handed.

* Rosamund Felsen Gallery, 2525 Michigan Ave., Bergamot Station, Santa Monica, (310) 828-8488, through Feb. 1. Closed Sundays and Mondays.

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Pinball Wizard: Even if you’ve never wondered what the world looks like from a pinball’s point of view, a visit to Chris Finley’s installation at ACME Gallery gives you a pretty good idea. As smart as it is silly, this amusing arrangement of painted images and found objects treats the seemingly sacrosanct activity of looking at art as a zany game that entertains viewers as it gets us to entertain ideas.

Titled “Level One,” Finley’s exhibition refers to video games whose difficulty increases as one plays them, constantly challenging skilled players to push their talents further. Likewise, the young artist’s user-friendly show requires viewer participation, rewarding whoever sticks with it long enough by serving up playful revelations.

Precisely installed, “Level One’s” first three stations make a joke of figure-ground ambiguity, transforming a formal conundrum that once animated Modernist painting into a game of hide-and-seek you can play by yourself. By inviting viewers to close one eye and peer through the other, Finley messes with your perception of perspective, causing significant parts of the gallery’s architecture--as well as a 14-foot-long wooden alligator--to disappear into thin air. With goofy aplomb, abstract painting’s raison d’e^tre becomes a frivolous magic trick.

Despite the obviousness of Finley’s makeshift illusions, his work still manages to enchant. Like jokes that let everyone in on them and still manage to be funny, pieces like “One-Eyed Galactic Gutterball Pig Mantra” and “Skip Zip Pop Scoop Chime Slime With Hover Pond Entrance” possess lasting charm.

The final two stations make a joke of the fact that most viewers look at art for extremely short spans of time. By hiding a pair of paintings in a box with only two thin openings, and by making viewers jump on a trampoline to see another painting placed behind a high wall, Finley reveals that perceptions--and ideas--come to us with exceptional swiftness.

Just because your eyes ricochet around his installation like pinballs doesn’t mean they don’t take it all in. I can’t wait for “Level 2.”

* ACME Gallery, 1800 B Berkeley St., Santa Monica, (310) 264-5818, through Feb. 8. Closed Sundays and Mondays.

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Misbehavin’: Tamara Fites’ new installation at Dan Bernier Gallery is a mess--and that’s the best thing about it.

Transforming a pristine white-walled gallery into a few rooms that look as if they’ve been lived in for years by at least a couple of unrepentant slobs is no mean feat. But Fites has a fine eye for detail: Soiled sheets cover a shabby futon, tracked-in dirt appears to be all that holds the threadbare carpeting together and cheap furniture has been broken and repaired so many times that it’s hard to imagine it was once new.

Dozens of used toys, plates caked with leftovers and pages torn from coloring books add to the atmosphere of run-down grunge.

Titled “Adult Babies: They’re So Messy,” Fites’ installation serves as the stage for an ongoing performance. When I visited, two young women wearing diapers, tank tops and not much more acted like giggly children. They invited me to be their playmate--to drink juice, eat a grilled cheese sandwich and do whatever I wanted for as long as I wanted, without worrying that any parent would punish me for misbehaving.

Wide-eyed and eager, each adult child cooed like a baby, pretending to be absolutely fascinated with whatever I’d say. Mindlessly happy, they acted more clueless than any kid or infant I’ve ever met.

Although Fites’ installation-cum-performance often amuses, it pales in comparison to her powerfully discomforting “Lambi Kins,” a similar work from two years ago in which she took on the persona of a woolly sexpot, who, like a lamb, could only communicate by batting her long-lashed eyes and rubbing up against viewers.

The main difference between “Lambi Kins” and “Adult Babies” is that the former mimics art objects (by exaggerating their seductive power and mute vulnerability) while the latter apes artists (by repeating the hoary cliche that artists are children who never grow up). Not even Fites’ elaborate installation and labor-intensive performance can enliven this tired stereotype.

* Dan Bernier Gallery, 3026 1/2 Nebraska Ave., Santa Monica, (310) 264-4882, through Feb. 15. Closed Sundays and Mondays.