"Allure of Japanese Glass" at the Pittsburgh Glass Center is one of a triumvirate of glass exhibitions -- along with Phipps' Chihuly show and the Carnegie's "Viva Vetro!" -- that stand out amid summer's cornucopia of choice.

It's no coincidence that the venues hosting them are run by the original planners of what evolved into the yearlong, citywide Pittsburgh Celebrates Glass! Their early entry and passion for the subject are reflected in the originality, thoroughness and sumptuousness of these exhibitions.

"Allure" is the most modest of the three but also the most elegant, in contrast to the Chihuly extravaganza or the charged excitement evident in the Carnegie's several-decade dialogue between American glass and Venetian.

As host to the June international Glass Art Society conference, the center felt a responsibility to bring something unique to attendees, as well as to the greater Pittsburgh audience, and it succeeded. The pieces in the show are mesmerizing and introduce a new aesthetic to the generally Western tradition reflected throughout town.

For "Allure," its first international exhibition, the Center engaged as curator Harumi Yukutake, a Japanese glass artist who studied at Tama Art University, Tokyo; RISD and Pilchuck. She's also a GAS board member and on the faculty of Toyama City Institute of Glass Art. Yukutake invited curator Tomoko Aoki, who earned degrees from Doshisha Women's College of Liberal Arts, Kyoto, and New York University, to co-organize the show.

Looking for originality in style and good execution of material, they selected 17 relatively young artists who showed promise but had not yet established international reputations. Most of them received their glass training in Japan and few have exhibited in the United States.

The curatorial intent was to illustrate "the scope of what Japanese value in art, and the current [Japanese] trends in glass," and expression ranges from pieces risen from the vessel tradition to installation works.

Exemplary of the former is Hikaru Shimada, who invites use of his perfect blown works but also pushes beyond basic function. His humorous "Kao (face)" is a row of 13 varying opaque white vessels sporting similar faces with bulbous eyes and slightly agape mouths. Sophisticated "SANBONASHI," two five-part graduated stacks of footed "plates," hover between sculpture and tableware.

Shiho Hayazaki's poetic installation "The Wind Through the Rice Plant" -- 27 low clumps of frosted glass leaves spaced across the floor -- invites, on the other hand, contemplation. Organic in form, suggestive of motion, the ghostly, finger-like leaves prompt thoughts of the beauty of and sustenance given by fields of rice, but also of the flow of time, and of life, through one's being or family.

While the Japanese began working extensively with glass during the Edo period (1603-1867), Aoki writes, it didn't achieve the level of recognition of other craft media until the latter half of the 20th century, when it was strongly influenced by the American Studio Glass Movement. Because of this, she feels, Japanese glass artists work with a freedom unhampered by the need to rebel against tradition that a ceramist, for example, might feel.

Nonetheless, aspects of Japanese history and culture inevitably manifest in many works, whether consciously or not. Among those the curators cite are respect for material, meticulous craftsmanship, an eye toward function and a reverence for nature. It would take a scholar to detect all of the cultural nuances, and one must be aware of the dangers of stereotyping.

Beyond these more subtle attributes, the works speak a formal language that requires no interpretation.

Nobuyasu Toyooka's evocative sculptures, "An-un (Ame) (dark cloud: rain)," comprise organic shapes, in which mysterious dark forms float, atop striated geometric bases with monumental interiority.

Nearby, a thick circular sculpture of brown glass, cracked and pushed up like the mud of a dry lake bed, seems to be lit from within. But the root beer-colored shine encircling the base of Hiroshi Hamadate's "earth" emits naturally from this skillfully designed piece.

Four artists work small, and their painstakingly crafted objects are nothing short of superb.

Mikiko Nakano's demure vessel and cup forms are covered with abstract enameled designs that are simultaneously light-hearted and serious. Fujiko Enami's lovely geometrically patterned footed cubes, which incorporate murini technique, cast softly colored shadows. Itcho Matsuo cold works kiln-formed glass to make intricately carved, tactile lidded boxes.

Most sumptuous of all is Sono Kago's "Chiisana Niwa (small garden)," comprising 27 pieces that from afar resemble standard tumblers. Peering into them, one encounters glowing, gilded mini-worlds contained within their bases -- baroque gardens of foliage, centipedes, beetles and other insects that have rustic immediacy and timeless metaphysical implications.

I understand the need for it but wish the blue floor tape that cordons Hayazaki's "Rice Plant" could be removed. Also, although four photographs of Kentaro Senuma's sensual pastel vessels fitted with Ikebana flower arrangements do heighten appreciation of his work, they would be less distracting mounted outside the exhibition or included instead in the catalog.

Beyond those minor objections, the breadth of expression and the impeccable objects that these 17 artists display make for an exhibition as memorable as it is educational.

A practical note -- the gallery is air-conditioned, as opposed to the upstairs hot shop, where classes work their magic regardless of August heat.