Santa Monica

Ed Paschke, who established himself by painting the low life of Chicago’s sleaziest bars and still lives in the Windy City, now makes art for an electronic-media age. His big talking heads have the off-register look of out-of-focus TV or computer-generated images; his highly charged palette is pure synthetic. Seen in glossy reproductions, these oils might appear to be slick, air-brushed creations--the ultimate art for the consumption of media babies. In the flesh, however, they are glowing artworks that turn banal images gleaned from newspapers or television into deftly hand-brushed paintings.

Paschke models luminous forms in gentle gradations or weird stripes against backgrounds that melt into a sensuous pointillism. Solarized heads shine through luxurious surfaces while a futuristic calligraphy of words, symbols and realistic imagery wires the big pictures to a static-filled counterpoint. Unlike TV pictures that deliver all in an instant, these paintings offer layers of visual information.

“Blackstone” may have been inspired by a gangland news photo, but it depicts a beatific presence who has neon-like lips, hearts etched on his cheeks and a yellow forehead that spills into an electronic field of energy. Two back-lighted heads in “Haida Gloves” are partially covered by gloved hands that contain images of muscular boxers. In “Soledad,” a man’s gaping mouth is filled with Oriental characters.

Paschke has long since transcended his reputation as a kinky Pop regionalist. At this point he stands nearly alone among artists who have found a way to comment on the insidious influence of a media glut while advancing the tradition of painting. The usual--and often effective--method is to present used-up images and cliched text as proof of an information overload. Paschke brings the idea home poignantly wrapped in beautiful paintings.

Concurrently, Dennis Leon shows a group of “Harrison Lake Drawings,” wall-size depictions of rocky cliffs arising abruptly from placid water. He places us at the water’s surface, where we survey imposing natural structures that read as romantic abstractions. (Dorothy Goldeen Gallery, 1547 9th St., to June 11.)