Special effects often matter more than story in big-budget films. And one name figures far more than others in the creation of these visuals illusions: Industrial Light & Magic, George Lucas' special-effects company.

With a new spelling and a tiny tweak, "Industreel Lites and Majick," it becomes the title of a 14-artist exhibition at the Muse Gallery in North Park that consists of "mostly mechanical art." The use of the phrase has a jaunty, ironic quality to it, given the low-tech emphasis of the constructions. Nothing digital here.

Yoni Laos uses plain, old black light to deliver his visual punch line in "Circa 1984 (Printed 2003)." The big face in his screen print is Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld. It was probably taken at a recent press conference; the logo of the Pentagon is behind him.

A black light goes on above it, and a faint image appears within the outline of the Pentagon, picturing Rumsfeld at a meeting with Saddam Hussein. One line of text appears above them: "Rumsfeld & Saddam – circa 1984." Our memories tend to be short, but the layered imagery reminds us that the Reagan administration once regarded him as a potential ally in its opposition to Iran.

Light is Jason Sherry's medium, too, and he also toys with well-known faces. The frames on his wall-mounted sculptures are the heads of old tennis rackets. Within each is a composite face, lit from behind. Sherry calls these works "Favorite Trophy Wives." And the combinations are funny in a warped, wicked way: "Lauren Bacall and Augusto Pinochet," "Ava Gardner and Fidel Castro." There may be some sort of commentary embedded in these; maybe not.

What would a mostly mechanical show be without gizmos? Flip the switch on Mark Orso's "Hand + Mayo" and it turns dynamic. A steel arm with a plastic hand grips an implement that reaches down into a mayonnaise jar. The speaker on the piece emits amusingly disgusting sloshing sounds.

Not everything is industrial or mechanical. Xuchi Eggleton contributes a spooky painting, "Moloch," depicting shriveled figures, like starving children, suspended from a wall. There's lettering in a Gothic script that seems fitting in style for the mood of the picture.

The title points us toward the Old Testament. Idolatrous Jews worshipped this divinity (Moloch) and supposedly sacrificed children in his name. Allen Ginsberg invoked his name in his best known poem, "Howl," as a metaphor for an American society that alienates and destroys its youth.

Droll sculptures by Richard Keely would be easy to miss, because they are so small. Seek them out. He uses scraps of industrial materials and small sheets of plastic to suggest human gestures, as with "Pucker," and vast spaces, as in "Pip Squeak."

Robert L. Pincus:
(619) 293-1831
robert.pincus@uniontrib.com

"Industreel Lites and Majick"

Through Aug. 3, 2003

The Muse Gallery
2911 University Ave.
San Diego, CA
(619) 296-8539

Curated by Jason Sherry