The galleries: Portrait painting in numbers

Peter Madden's Escape Into Order from the Melanie Rogers and Guy Williams collection.

Public galleries can provide themed or group shows in a way that would not be commercially viable for dealer galleries. Artspace in Karangahape Rd, Lopdell House in Titirangi and te tuhi in Pakuranga all have valuable exhibitions of this kind.

At Lopdell House only a few more days remain to see the selection of 40 finalists and winners of the Adam Portraiture Awards, a biennial event held by the New Zealand Portrait Gallery in Wellington and sponsored by the Adam Foundation.

The 200 entries were judged by James Holoway, director of the Scottish Portrait Gallery in Edinburgh. He must have the courage of his convictions, as he gave the award to the smallest painting in the show - A Portrait of Hans, by Freeman White. It is a deft piece of characterisation with the profile head well modelled and the background painted with considerable skill.

Other impressive works are large, notably a merit award winner, The Dreamer, A.A. Deans, by John Badcock, where a lifesize image and flourishes of lively brushwork give abundant life to the white-haired, whiskery subject.

A large self-portrait by Lauren May defiantly denies her sexuality but affirms her humanity by showing herself with her heart, lungs and intestine spilling forward from her naked torso.

Other likenesses to impress are a woman daydreaming, by Dean James Tercel, and a self-portrait as Madonna with Child , by Cecilia Russell.

Then there is My Dad at El Alamein, complete with purple tank, by Ewan McDougall.

This is an altogether different way of painting a character. The exhibition lacks some swagger and authority but it shows the competence of a body of artists who choose to do this traditional task of catching a likeness and, at the same time, make a painting which works in its own right.

Artspace reaches out to New York, where a similar organisation called Artists' Space plays a role similar to the K Rd institution and combines work from both cities. The show is called Local Transport: An Exhibition in Two Parts.

The combination is seamless. All the artists are cultivating quiet sensations and there is a feeling of personal intimacy that denies any sense of locality.

Just how personal and close the sensation can be is exemplified in the work of Lisa Tan, who is showing three sets of book covers. Each set has two covers of the same title.

The most intriguing are the covers of the much-prescribed - and at present fashionable - Conrad's Heart of Darkness. One cover emphasises the density of the dark jungle and the other emphasises penetration.

There is the now customary painting directly on the wall, and projected works and sculpture with found objects.

Simon Esling paints on the wall in a spare and thrusting fashion and makes great use of the corner to energise his work.

Kylie Duncan has collaborated with Keely O'Shannessy and Gerald Philips to create a work where the images hint at surgical operations and preparation for them. Clipboards are ubiquitous but often the only really recognisable detail. A confused perception of the operating theatre is compounded by the blurred context of the images.

Sriwhana Spong's piece, which is photographs of the peace symbol created mostly in flowers and plants, is much more direct and enlivened by the way the materials of each symbol are shown close up as a still-life before being expanded into symbolic meaning.

Should one be surprised that some of the work from the United States is more traditional than the local? Jennifer Nocon is showing a long, rhythmic wall hanging in cut wool-felt. Cutout pieces from this and other work are assembled on the floor in intricate assemblages that add up to simple forms that both sit heavily and try to leap. The work is called Failure to Launch.

Other ambiguities are found in the drawing of Sara Greenberger Rafferty, which look like conventional likenesses but have a little twist toward caricature that gives them a humorous, unexpected oddity.

This is not a spectacular blockbuster, but indicates how prevailing the preoccupations with mixed media are in today's art world. The exhibition runs until July.

There are larger works at te tuhi in Pakuranga, which is showing the work of four Auckland sculptors in a way that lets them expand their ideas with plenty of space.

In the foyer, Marlyne Jackson has a playful work she calls Organism. It is all flowers, hearts, little parcel presents and spiky colourful balls hung just clear of the wall so that shadows play their part. It is delightfully clever and witty.

The work of Anton Parsons in the main gallery is much more solemn and massive but equally inventive in its own way. Paul Cullen's piece, The Orange Theory, moves from a motor-driven orange to revolving globes of the earth in a constructed context of tables clamped to thrust against the floor and the ceiling.

Another room is occupied by the collaboration between artist Peter Madden and poet Sam Sampson. There is poetic text on the walls and ceiling and, maddeningly, on the skirting boards. Madden's invention and skill with collage is everywhere evident and nowhere more so than in a beautiful book that lures butterflies toward its pages.