Alison Coates has her own geometric poetic. Concentric and un-furling her work mutates as it is encircled, changing completely at each vantage point. As an artist she is drawn to both spatial depth and intricacy, honing forms that evoke the strength of the pre-industrial world: secretive in its systems, inchoate to most eyes. Unified by a pale mottled palette, her new works lend the impression of coming from a single terrain, a place where skeletons and life cycles are left in peace. Visually her materials converge, but technically they are anything but simple objects of salvage. Here is sculpture as paradox, where the line between material and subject inverts: A lumpy net that looks like it fell of a fishing boat is in fact the severed side pocket of a billiard table. Delicate webs that resemble hair are bent wires and the patina of patterns sprouting on the stubborn flesh of vellum are subtly hand drawn. In her newest works, Coates explores luminosity, weightlessness and the use of aerial space. Her use of geometric form is minimal and decisive yet faintly hallucinatory. Some of the hanging pieces look physically impossible; dancing up into the ceiling like a curl of smoke or unspooling like a tendril in water currents. For an artist that does not actually draw, Coates cleaves a fine line using cane, wire, chalk paint and tiny knots that puncture the void. Although her elliptical forms patched in squares of vellum strongly resemble early experiments in flight, it is important to see the work in its own abstract terms. The playful beauty of each sculpture teases out the reflex to ‘find’ a source, but her literacy in shapes makes a single historic or biological reference obsolete. For a long time, Coates has been tethered to her origins in experimental intensely primal floristry. She spearheaded the use of large-scale natives and earthy palettes like a Botanical Fauve, and that image clung to her work like a vine. In their graphic geometry and minimalism, this new collection shatters several cliches at