Constance DeJong: Shift, Charlotte Jackson Fine Art, 200 W. Marcy St., Suite 101, 989-8688; and Charlotte Jackson Project Space, 7511 Mallard Way; through October

The theory of plate tectonics has always fascinated me. It addresses Earth's magnetism, the worldwide distribution of volcanoes and earthquakes, and the positions of seven continent-sized layers of the Earth's outermost crust — the lithosphere — that collide, shift, and bump and grind against one another over the eons (in a process that was once called continental drift).

I couldn't help but think of such things when viewing sculptor Constance DeJong's new work at Charlotte Jackson Fine Art. The title of the exhibition — Shift — sent my mind in that direction. The work is on display at both Jackson's downtown location and the Charlotte Jackson Project Space near the airport.

DeJong's large-scale vertical configurations of various metals, triptychs of conjoined, truncated pylons, are bold and beg for explanation. Like industrial detritus that has been salvaged, modified, and reconceptualized as gorgeous wall sculpture — DeJong refers to these pieces as paintings or drawings — this recent group of work is a continuation of her tectonic aesthetic.

For almost 30 years, DeJong has produced metal constructs large and small, allowing for her sensibilities in painting and sculpture to merge. Robert Rauschenberg explored such a convergence in the 1950s with his "combine" paintings. But DeJong's three-dimensional work, unlike Rauschenberg's, is devoid of social commentary and far less expressionistic — there are no stuffed, paint-splattered goats adorned with rubber tires here.

Attuned to minimalism — in which an object exudes its formalistic self — DeJong's metalwork is reductive and pure, but it is also more than what minimalism allows and beautiful to look at. In a 2003 monograph of her work, DeJong is quoted as saying, "A minimalist would bolt a sheet of copper to the wall. I would suspend it, illuminate it, and let it 'bleed.'" In general, her worlows that of a select group of artists who first explored volumetric simplicity using manufactured materials such as metal, glass, and plastic as well as those who considered an object's physicality. DeJong's aesthetic ancestors include the likes of Constantin Brâncus¸i, Antoine Pevsner, Naum Gabo, and El Lissitzky from the 1920s and 1930s and Carl Andre, Donald Judd, and Richard Serra 30 years later.

One of the untitled pieces in the show, fashioned from stainless steel with a mill finish and measuring 72 by 114 inches, is indeed suspended — and illuminating. Situated in the front gallery of Jackson's downtown location, this piece is difficult to ignore. With smooth and lustrous surfaces, the three vertical abutted tapered pylons — accented by a series of machine screws — are engaging and demand your attention. Conceptually, it alludes to aspects of connectedness, inversion, and pure form.

In the same room hangs its doppelgänger, another untitled work that is seemingly a body double of the first. But this triptych of cropped chevron shapes — the middle of which is inverted — is made of aluminum, with a delicate glazing effect that adds textural quality and the illusion of depth to its silver surface. Like segments from an airplane fuselage long exposed to atmospheric scarring, this particular work is more industrial looking but no less rewarding. If it were on the floor, skateboarders would love it as a high-end tripartite ramp.

Given their highly reflective metal surfaces, DeJong's untitled pieces are best experienced in changing light, over the course of a day. Set in a space with at least one window, each would emit a variety of reflections and transform visually with the passage of time.

DeJong's other large-scale constructs — Big Black Work With Three Tilting Planes #1 and #2 — are featured in a separate room. The titles are perfectly descriptive yet make no reference to their dynamic personae.

According to gallery data, both pieces are composed of "sheets of burnt and burnished copper. ... Their blackened surfaces [result] from a poured chemistry, which darkens into crusty velvet." For those inclined to darker moods and greater drama, these fill the bill nicely. Not possessing quite the hermetic tone of the monolith in Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey, DeJong's conjoined black panels nevertheless evoke a sense of mystery. However, the exposed copper edges add life and light to what otherwise might be overly somber statements.

DeJong's industrial creations aren't for everyone. If your personal décor tends toward overstuffed chairs covered in floral prints, mahogany paneling, and a moose head above the mantel, then don't bother with them. But if your idea of a beautiful home lies in the neighborhood of Philip Johnson, Marcel Breuer, or Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, where each room would be furnished with only the bare necessities, any of DeJong's works will look smashing.

Complementing DeJong's large constructs are smaller pieces — sketches, if you will — displayed in the main galleries and in the hallway of the downtown location. It is instructive to see the results of DeJong's process in these little gems, created out of formed aluminum and steel screen material secured to white supports by tiny silver posts. In a series of diptychs and triptychs incorporating her tapered pylon shapes, she juxtaposes these different materials, which exhibit delightful plays of light and shadow as well as shallow suggestions of depth. More of DeJong's small studies (13 total) plus one large piece are at Jackson's project space, where the presentation is less formal.

Like the artwork itself, the downtown gallery installation is austere, with only 10 pieces (four large and six small). Gallery owner Jackson — who has represented DeJong for less than two years — was smart not to overload her wall space. She allows DeJong's work plenty of breathing room, so that individual pieces won't impose themselves visually on others. And one need not be exposed to more of DeJong's work to understand her sensibilities toward shape, form, light, and space. The curatorial process got it just right.

In fact, featuring one large-scale piece per room — if Jackson had more rooms — would have lent a spiritual consideration to DeJong's work, similar to Mark Rothko's meditative paintings done specifically for that purpose and housed in the Rothko Chapel in Houston. Still, this work invites contemplation, and I would suggest to Jackson that she include more than one bench in her gallery for extended viewing; DeJong's constructs deserve sit-down time.

Shift represents a second coming-out party for DeJong. "This is her first show in Santa Fe in 10 years," Jackson said, adding that it follows a self-imposed break from the gallery circuit that gave the artist concentrated studio time. If that's what it takes to produce work like this, then so be it.