Nature of universal truths is dusted off and explored

The title of Polish-born, Mexico-based artist Xawery Wolski’s current exhibition in the Ben Maltz Gallery at Otis College of Art and Design is a single, proverbially elemental term translated into three languages: “Polvo/Proch/Dust.” In a show populated largely by terra cotta sculptures, it comes as a droll reminder of art’s intrinsic ephemerality, and a sober allusion to the mortality of the body itself, recalling God’s famous pronouncement to the fallen Adam and Eve in the third chapter of Genesis: “For dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.”

The multiple translations Wolski provides of this title refer to his own cosmopolitan background, yet also imply a sort of ominous universality. The natural cycle of creation, growth and disintegration is, after all, absolute.

With this in mind, Wolski appears to be making the most of it, sublimating his materials (glazed terra cotta primarily, but also paper, wire and bronze) into truly elegant objects. The only dust found here probably blew in from the outside; the works themselves, all less than 10 years old and clearly well cared for -- are nowhere near to crumbling. Nor is it the drama of disintegration -- central to the work of many environmental artists, for example -- that seems to interest him. Rather, one senses, it is the illusion of stability that flawless fabrication can inspire.

Predominantly white in its palette and beautifully installed, the exhibition is a pleasure to move through.

Pale tones and sumptuous textures create a calming atmosphere and the objects mingle harmoniously, commanding every region of the gallery.

The terra cotta pieces are large, stylized forms with clean lines and smooth, eggshell-colored surfaces. One consists of five cloud-like rings, suspended from wires at various levels around the gallery; another, a fat, 60-link chain that snakes menacingly across the floor. “Retablos” (Reliquaries) (1994-97) is a grid of 40 identical, wall-mounted boxes, all eerily empty, and “Frutos” (Fruits) (2002) is a ceiling-to-floor vine covered in 600 tiny bulbs resembling crook-necked summer squash. Though cool and rather slick from a distance, these pieces soften considerably at close range, where the warmth of their burnished surfaces can be fully appreciated (though, sadly, not touched).

Wolski’s skill in handling the terra cotta is evident in the illusion of lightness he manages to bestow upon the objects. The hovering of the clouds appears quite effortless; the chain looks as though it might easily be kicked aside.

Even in the show’s one bronze piece -- a pair of free-standing spherical knots painted to look exactly like the terra cotta -- he achieves a quality of veritable buoyancy.

It is in his one wire and two paper works, however, that a real sense of delicacy emerges. The former consists of several dozen roughly 16-foot chains made from what must be thousands of tiny, copper wire rings, all clearly handcrafted, hanging in a large, U-shaped cluster on the wall. The precarious insubstantiality of the piece is almost titillating; one heavy hand could easily crush it.

Equally diaphanous in tone is a series of eight chalky gray photographs, each portraying what appears at first to be a few thin cracks but are actually slender lines of ocean surf, viewed from high above.

The second work on paper -- titled “Tatuajes” (Tattoos) (1997-2001) -- makes very different use of the medium. Here, rather than printing or drawing across the paper, Wolski essentially sculpts it using the tip of a needle, occasionally puncturing but more often indenting gently to create tiny fields of gravelly texture. There are six individual “drawings,” all abstract and all quite small, and they are perhaps the most purely beautiful objects in the show.

Less memorable is a piece called “Carta de Amor” (Love Letter) (1998), which consists of 259 individually lettered tiles arranged to relate (in English) the lament of an abandoned lover. Conceptual rigor does not appear to be Wolski’s strong suit generally, and the shortcoming is especially evident here.

The only piece to notably depart from the general white-on-white scheme is “Vestido” (Dress) (2000), a draping garment made from tiny, black terra cotta beads. Displayed against a wall as if suspended from a coat hanger, the piece has an unsettlingly penitential feel that brings one back to the Catholic undertones of the show’s title.

If the terra cotta clouds, the copper-wire chains or the “tattooed” sheets of paper might be said to represent a sort of material perfection, then this object -- dark, heavy, dull in texture and presumably very uncomfortable -- would seem to embody the converse denial. Though constructed with the same skill as every other piece, “Vestido” functions as the show’s shadow side, a reminder of the disintegration that eventually follows creation. With its small, unpolished beads, its suggestions of darkness and its ominous weight, it appears one step closer to dust.

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Xawery Wolski: ‘Polvo/Proch/Dust’

Where: Ben Maltz Gallery, Otis College of Art and Design, 9045 Lincoln Blvd., Westchester

When: Tuesdays-Saturdays, 10 a.m. to 5 p.m.

Ends: Feb. 21

Price: Free

Contact: (310) 665-6905