Amelia Lockwood’s ceramics push up against the natural constraints of their medium in novel ways. Rather than the earthbound, closed forms associated with this medium, we get vine-like, open lattices, expanding outward from a central axis. These echo Rococo decorative art, Gothic tracery, and art nouveau’s geometricized plant-forms. Their organic quality is not just a matter of representation or reference, but inbuilt. That is, like plants, they blur the line between structural elements and their branching elaborations. Their ornate rhythms occur in layers, as if growing from a central core like an abstracted thicket. The residue of fingers and scoring tools gives them a complimentary hint of funk, accentuated by unevenly applied translucent glazes. This should all be at odds with the precise curves and radial symmetry but, somehow, isn’t. Overall, these are a high-wire act performed with quiet panache. These work because all of their various, divergent qualities are held in an unlikely, delicate equilibrium.