If you've ever found yourself trembling under the elegant and imposing bulk of the sculpture "Sentinel" on RIT's campus, you know something about being awestruck by a determined human's creative capability, but also something about placing trust in a stranger's engineering abilities. Albert Paley's ubiquitous thresholds and threshold guardians can be found in and around Rochester, the United States, and the world. Through June 27, you can view a fantastic retrospective of the Rochester-based artist's work from the past decade, and gain an understanding of how the man is able to unite beauty, technology, and craftsmanship to convey potent emotion through the medium of hard, cold steel - but not enough understanding to release you from that awe induced by encountering one of his works. I predict textbook immortality for this man and his art.

The exhibition includes an impressive gathering of drawings, cardboard models, dozens of steel maquettes, finished works, images of him in-studio, informational plaques to educate us on the terms and processes of his work, a cell phone tour, and a video. Viewers who already acknowledge his talent will gain an ever stronger appreciation for his artistry: his story is one of patience and extreme dedication, of ability, focus, and (too-often, fickle) opportunity.

Paley's passionate drive to understand steel and celebrate the material is evident not only in his masterful sculptural work, but in the fascinated way he spoke of his craft at his anecdote-filled talk on Sunday, May 2. There I learned that Paley ‘s time as a goldsmith in the1960's and 70's produced not only a body of covet-worthy adornments, but informed his understanding of component relationships that he later translated into larger-scale designs. He determined to make necessary structural and desired decorative elements share the stage equally, and the works themselves were designed to play up the form of the wearer: neckpieces and Fibula brooches emphasize the environment of the human body. This too he applied to his larger work, keeping the architectural environment in mind when he began to design site-specific work.

Paley's moved into gate creation through his design for the Smithsonian, for which he cannibalized the ovals-and-spine design from one of his brooches, creating frozen-forever winding vines of steel, even then obsessing over emphasizing the molten metal's plasticity. Through the years, he's perfected the technique: at times thick plates are bent in impossibly graceful arcs; elsewhere it's folded over and over to resemble ribbon candy. This focus on fluidity is a manifestation of Paley's greater and unmistakable fascination with shift, which is also evident in the epic significance he injects into his thresholds: "You enter a building through that portal, experience something inside, then go out through the portal and you've changed in the process," he says in a provided statement. "Entranceways represent the act of passage from outside to inside, light to dark - the whole aspect of transition."

Paley and his team are currently working on three projects, and while business is popping, I detected a level of frustration in the artist over the amount of "never realized" projects, condemned for the time being to exist in their cardboard-model manifestations. My hunch was confirmed when he spoke of projects that have fallen through, or clients whose ideas ultimately differed from his.

One such example is present in the Memorial Art Gallery. Paley was commissioned to create a portal for the Washington National Cathedral Gate, which would lead to the Good Shepherd Chapel. His design incorporated imagery derived from biblical language that describes us as the shepherd-lord's sheep. Paley's finished work contains the cross and the crook, as well as a gold-plated halo, amid twisting, wrapping, thick steel vines. Shockingly, this door was rejected; my snarky guess is that the church didn't like the crook and halo being swallowed up by the overwhelmingly earthy elements that could be perceived as a threat. Ultimately, Paley replaced the gate with a simpler, less cluttered structure, but I favor the reject.

In the rear corner of the gallery space are several pieces that were collaborations with Seattle-based glass artist Martin Blank. In some works, the steel supports and cradles the glass. In others, like "Clear Arc," heavy, rounded glass forms balance precariously on rib-like systems, resembling an instrument serving some steam-punk or alien purpose. Paley explained in his talk that while the materials "may seem disparate, they have their form development in common, which is heat." The simple elemental studies couple organic twists of smooth-faced steel with the rippled and bubble-filled icy glass, and speak of simultaneous fragility and durability, translucent clarity, and opaque mystery.

"Interlace," a long, table-top, golden bronze piece with a shimmery, dark patina was designed to be an exhibition piece, and was the work that called my attention to the small galaxies Paley hides within the shells of the soaring sentinels and the "walls" of his gates. I peeked through the long narrow ends to see the cut plates of metal jutting here and there, an inches-thin and fascinating little forest of shape and shadow. The focus on negative space and its playful effects made me realize that Paley's portals are not closed doors; they allow the passage of light and sight.

If you missed Paley's talk at the MAG, you can register with the Nan Miller Gallery for an Artist's Lecture on Saturday, May 8, at 1:30 p.m. The Nan Miller Gallery is located at 3450 Winton Place and is hosting an exhibition of Paley's functional sculptures, along with photographic fine art prints by his wife, Frances Paley, through June 27. Call 292-1430, or visit nanmillergallery.com for more information.

"Paley in the 21st Century"

Through June 27

Memorial Art Gallery, 500 University Ave.

276-8900, mag.rochester.edu.

Wed-Sun 11 a.m.-5 p.m., Thursday 11 a.m.-9 p.m. | $5-$10