In Charisse Pearlina Weston’s sculptures, sheets of glass are gathered into configurations of intimacy which verge on mutual destruction. Politics and history seethe from the hazardous touch of the meeting points. In the precariousness of Weston’s chosen material—and of its arrangement—she finds a metaphor for Black life, its fragile metaphysical surface, the forces that give it form. The sculptures seem to hold their breath as the tenuous question of their future hovers in the air: the image of their shattering under pressure is readily available to the mind’s eye, made even more so by regions in several sculptures where glass has already been broken, and put back together again.—Zoë Hopkins (Jack Shainman; through Dec. 20.)Dance