H.C. Westermann is not one of the cool kids of art. He has long been relegated to outsider status, left out of the canon of mid-century American art.

Westermann's art isn't easily classified, though he does share thematic concerns (such as alienation and inhumanity) with his contemporaries. His work is highly individual, but recognizable for its reoccurring images and intense, emotional resonance.

That resonance carries through in the exhibition "At 20: The Sharon and Thurston Twigg-Smith Collection of H.C. Westermann," on display at The Contemporary Museum.

This is the second Westermann exhibit in three years for TCM. A 2006 show "Dreamings of a Speech Without Words," organized by Michael Rooks, focused on Westermann's early work.

This exhibit, put together by curator James Jensen, fleshes out Westermann's oeuvre with examples of his late-career work, emphasizing his small sculpture and work on paper of the 1960s and '70s.

The exhibit contains almost exclusively works from the local collection of Thurston and Sharon Twigg-Smith, given to TCM as a 20th-anniversary gift in December.

It is easy to criticize museums for hosting exhibits based on a single benefactor's collection, but in this case, the work is strong enough to stand up to scrutiny.

Jensen has wisely avoided a chronological format in favor of useful groupings that illuminate Westermann's pet motifs.

Reoccurring imagery of barren trees, icebergs and "death ships" pair with Westermann's irregularly scaled, angular style to create a coded commentary upon man's isolated state in society -and especially the politics of war, from World War II and the Korean War (in which Westermann served) to the Vietnam War (in which his son served).

Westermann's open preoccupation with military themes sets him apart from many of his peers, as he worked during a time when McCarthy-era fear of public scrutiny prevented many American artists from fully expressing their dissatisfaction with the state of the nation.

Indeed, his work seems to be draw from a European precedent. It is perhaps more aligned with the screaming terrors of Picasso's "Guernica" or the uneasy imbalance of Yves Tanguy.

Whatever the precedent, today's viewer cannot help but to come to Westermann with a set of ideas and associations connected to the contemporary political climate. For example, Westermann's imagery of death and destruction, likely references to World War II, the Korean War and the Vietnam War, could easily be applied to the current occupation of Iraq.

While they might not have been Westermann's original references or intentions, these layers of understanding give the work new meaning — and a continued relevancy for a new generation of viewers.