Ai Weiwei explores form in space. The porcelain work Pillar, glazed with typical local mineral colors to represent mammoth versions of vessels that can be traced back to various Chinese dynastic styles, where they usually existed on a far more modest scale. Scale lends their presence authority and solidity, just as their existence inspires awe over how hard it was to create them. A kiln had to be built for each one, the gestion period of the firing was a fraught as that of any foetus, and the result was equally unpredictable and uncertain, until that final moment of release from the womb of its chamber. Many pillars did not survive their baptism of fire, which only lends authority to those that did, a sensation felt in their stoic rigidity and soft patina. The visual perfection of this form leaves a lingering impression. There's never any clutter; nithing us overdone. At times, the air of perfection is almost too much. But there has always been an edge of humor in Ai's work that is never quite permitted to descend into cynicism, a wry undertone that is its saving grace.