“Construct” is a malleable word. It can be a verb or a noun, and it can refer to the physical act of building something or to a much more abstract concept, a subjective theory not based on empirical evidence. Precisely because it is so open to interpretation, the term makes for a convenient, none-too-binding theme for an art show.

School 33’s new juried exhibition, Construct, curated by Margaret Winslow, does the honors. The exhibit showcases the work of seven artists “who explore the notion of construction within their work, whether it be a physical, psychological, or social creation.” While it is difficult to tell how some of the works relate to any of the theme’s several definitions, the pieces tend to be compelling enough that it doesn’t matter.

They range from paintings to prints to collages to sculptures to photographs and tend toward the abstract, but several of the artists clearly take man-made structures as their jumping-off points. Wes Kline’s large-format photographs were taken through the glass of a building designed by Swiss modern architect Le Corbusier. Many of the photos are a gorgeous blue hue and each one is layered with ghostly images, as of a landscape seen through the window of a moving train: Architectural elements reflect onto natural ones, like trees. The viewer’s own reflection in the shiny surface adds another layer of confusion, and the distinction between inside and outside, fabricated and not, becomes decidedly blurred.

Katherine Nonemaker takes on physical constructions in some of her works as well. Her pieces are more varied than that of the other artists in the exhibition, and among the strongest. “Imaginary Structure,” a many-layered oil painting/collage/print, depicts a complex, industrial-looking tower with no discernible use. It calls to mind power plants, cell phone towers, and other structures that are central to our industrialized lives yet remain abstractions for most of us. “Test Flight,” a small oil and charcoal painting that drips unnatural toxic-sludge color, is particularly powerful. A tiny plane belching smoke crashes towards the ground in the lower right-hand corner, dwarfed by a giant sky. The plane is so small it’s as if the event hardly mattered. Nonemaker’s “This Pattern Changes But I Think There Is a Bigger Pattern . . .” also draws the eye through tiny elements. More than 300 pieces of paper, each perhaps one inch square, hang from pins in a grid on the wall. All of them read “Today was the same as yesterday,” but the colors of the paper differ, and the prints themselves appear in varying densities and gradations of black and gray. On closer inspection it turns out that a few pieces are entirely blank. Today is not precisely the same as yesterday, though at first it appears to be so.

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