James Rowell is an unusual artist - obsessive, possessing an enquiring mind and a sense of humour, as well as a dexterity and patience that seems to know no bounds.

Rowell grew up in Canberra, where for a couple of years he attended the ANU, before moving to Melbourne and completing a degree at the Victorian College of the Arts, majoring in painting. He returned to Canberra, where he has been exhibiting for about 20 years.

In Australia, unlike much of Europe, there has been a traditional divide between art and sciences and people scoffed at Rowell when he said that he had a degree in the arts.

In 2010, he decided to tackle the sciences as an artist and made the curious choice of selecting the dusty classic Michael Faraday's Experimental researches in electricity that was originally published between 1831 and 1838 and subsequently released as a three-volume book between 1839-1855. Although widely regarded as one of the great 19th-century physicists and a pioneer in the field of electromagnetism, Faraday is not what I would regard as light reading.

Rowell admits that he found the book fascinating but also largely incomprehensible. He made quick sketches on an A-4 size pad of his impressions of some of Faraday's equipment and experiments. Then these were translated into paintings and the paintings underwent a metamorphosis for the next nine years. What we are seeing exhibited in the gallery are the resolutions of these works, mainly from 2019.

The titles of the paintings give us some clues concerning the starting points for some of Rowell's thought adventures. They include Bauxite and aluminium serrate and Frog being electrocuted in electric circuit. None of the imagery is literal or specific and sometimes, armed with the title, one can start to decipher a possible reading.

The magic of Rowell's paintings lies in their immensely painstaking execution - a technique that he has devised that lies somewhere between Aboriginal dot painting of the Central Desert and white man's early dot painting, such as the Pointillism of French Neo-impressionism and Divisionism associated with names like Georges Seurat and Paul Signac.

Rowell works in acrylics. He divides each colour into four tones and then systematically paints each tiny breathing of colour, each small unit in the composition, working from left to right.

These layers are built up until there is a very textured surface - almost realised in low relief - so that the little paintings appear to glow as they catch the light. The forms are open, visually and intellectually accessible, and they seem to be bathed through an inner luminosity.

A number of the paintings, such as Beaker and Electric circuit on bench top, are little glowing gems and are highlights in this exhibition.

While I virtually never comment on the pricing of art, to me it seems that Rowell's paintings should have another digit added to their price.

Sciency Pictures is an unusual and rewarding exhibition by a very interesting local artist.