If you’re a young person who has only recently begun studying math seriously, or a teacher looking for new ways to address the subject, then "Finding X" is for you. Here you will find explorations of geometry, infinity, fractals, probability and statistics, proportions, number theory and binary logic, all expressed through a range of artwork.

For the rest of us, the show will not necessarily change our opinions about math — especially if we claim to hate it. However, it can certainly open our eyes to the role that mathematical concepts, principles and disciplines play in fine arts.

The power of this show doesn’t come from explicitly teaching mathematics to the viewer but from reminding us that all art is based on precise relationships between various aesthetic factors. Some, like color and form, are such a common part of our everyday lives that we pay them little notice despite the fact that their interplay defines 100 percent of our visual environment.

It is only when high modernists such as color theorist Josef Albers or painter Jerry Okimoto put form and color into striking minimalist relationships that we realize exactly how the shape of things affects perception with such subtlety and power. Albers studied the mechanics of color’s harmony and contrast, and a simple grid of carefully spaced squares invites the viewer to see how, among infinite combinations, there are indeed some that inevitably work automatically. To striking effect, they transcend the two-color formulas we are all used to in the logos and palettes of corporations and sports teams.

Similarly, the perception of Okimoto’s brightly colored, perfectly symmetrical "Double Image" varies radically depending on the viewing angle. Though there is a section of the show dedicated to the mathematics of perspective in art, Okimoto’s work more effectively demonstrates a basic principle of relativity, which is that two observers looking at the same object from different angles can come to radically different conclusions as to what it looks like — and therefore, how it is interpreted.

Micah Lexier plays a similar trick with the large digits applied to the gallery wall in the "Tally" section. Each of these large black vinyl cutouts is missing a piece, but each numeral remains recognizable. Lexier’s trick is to make the surface area of each digit (0- 9) equivalent, thus calling into question the "real" difference between the numerals "8" and "9," distinguishing a number’s order from the amount it might represent.

Deborah Nehmad delivers a similar lesson in cardinality vs. ordinality with her hand-written count of the total death toll from the genocide in Darfur. Starting in the upper right hand corner of one large sheet, over the course of 9 of them she proceeds to write the numbers 1 to well over 200,000. As the count grows, each number takes more digits to write, totaling well over one million. To literally take account of these deaths, as if she were recording them in a ledger, underlines the horror of all that lost life. The result is a landscape of numeration, a statistic, a desert texture, an act of meditation and atonement that appears crazy only because Nehmad is showing her work just like our math teachers always asked us to.

Generally, sculpture shows the work of math in and behind art in a direct way, whether it is casting shadows or reflecting, absorbing or refracting light. But textiles are perhaps the least abstract and most intimate expressions of math. The Binakol textiles on display are probably the very best demonstration of the rich (and traditional) relationship between art and math and also feature the most interactive means of exploring their contemporary relevance.

The fundamentals of weaving are based in threads going over and under each other to generate patterns and shapes. The Binakol fabrics vibrate with the precise relationships between color, shape and pattern, causing an optical illusion meant to confuse and distract malevolent spirits. The visual relationship is obvious between the pixels of a modern digital display and these masterworks by the Tinguian people of Northern Luzon. The eureka moment comes from learning about the shared binary logic that underlies both graphical systems in a hands-on exploration that truly embraces all forms of the visitor’s intelligence.

Seeing this show will probably not improve a young person’s SAT scores, and any serious unpacking of artistic technique, form, content and context tends to overrun the conceptual boundaries of standards and benchmarks. However, an open-minded teacher interested avoiding the compartmentalization of knowledge that plagues contemporary education should be able to stimulate new interest in both the arts and math, the foundations of professions such as architecture, music and computer graphics programming.