A line drawing of a young woman, nude in a bathtub, eyes downcast as if lost in reverie. Another drawing: the same woman washing dishes. Others: a hand or a foot. The lines are fine, sometimes to the edge of invisibility. Some of them run behind others, a tiny but perceptible amount of space intervening. The lines make silverpoint - one of the finest of drawing mediums - look heavy. The drawings are small, no more than two or three inches at the largest. The surface is oddly glossy; the backing medium a yellowish white like ivory. But these are not quite drawings in the conventional sense. All are wearable jewelry, either brooches reminiscent of cameos, or rings where a miniscule drawing replaces a stone.

The drawings are almost impossibly delicate, the images tender and a bit melancholy. The jewelry is modest in scale, devoid of the aggressive ambition that declares that bigness equates with importance. They are not heroic. Instead, they are sweet and intimate. But there are also elements of strangeness and barely suppressed eroticism, which together throw the sweetness off kilter. Considered closely, these objects are slightly disorienting, as if you had entered your own home to find all the furniture moved.

This is the jewelry of Melanie Bilenker. They are not essays in pushing the envelope, nor are they assertively conceptual. They are, however, completely of this moment, informed by both a sense of history and a comfortable knowledge of contemporary art.