Rudolph Baranik’s paintings are portraits of a state of mind. The ashen heads of his “Napalm Elegy” series, from the late ’60s and early ’70s, evoke not only Vietnam but Hiroshima, while the burrowing, fragmentary torsos of White Sleep, 1965–85, and Dark Silence, 1966, recall photographs of survivors of the death camps and Henry Moore’s drawings of Londoners taking shelter in the Underground stations during World War II. In contrast to works of protest like Mauricio Lasansky’s “Nazi Drawings,”1962–66, or Goya’s “Disasters of War,” 1810–14, Baranik’s rigorous compositions sustain a balanced tone