A single sculpture by Oklahoma-born Petah Coyne might include a dozen materials ranging from the baroque to the kitsch in character-pearl-headed hatpins, ribbons, silk flowers, candies, powder, tar and feathers. Resembling enormous sentient chandeliers, they evoke a love of domestic materials, fairy tale arcana and biomorphic proliferation. "I love it when they look past maintenance," Coyne has said of her sculptures, "like a plant on somebody's porch that's kind of lost its mind." Her diverse bodies of work-from the early hanging black sand sculptures to the current works in wax and silk-share a sense of simultaneous strength and fragility. Though often unwieldy in size, they all appear vulnerable and delicate. This artist's book reflects Coyne's dialogue with organic form-whether natural or artificial, sentimental or campy. Included is an essay by critic and Art in America editor Ann Wilson Lloyd.