Almost worth visiting for the unusual gallery venue alone – a tiny, self-contained white-cube space seemingly plonked down in the middle of a complex of business units, producing the odd sensation of being safely enclosed yet also constantly observed. Which is probably what Suchan Kinoshita was thinking, too, when she inserted a giant, eyeball-like, mirrored dome through a gallery wall – probably the best, certainly the most endearingly batty work here. Stare through the eye’s iris into the corridor outside, and things get even more ersatz, with a twirling mirrorball, and a film of a second mirrorball projected against it.
As for how this, or any of the other works in this small, international assortment, actually relate to a central theme – that’s a trickier proposition. The title is promising: an apocalyptic admonition from the Bible that can nowadays be ironically reinterpreted as a sort of Arcadian promise. But only a few pieces really fit: Lara Almarcegui’s photograph of a crumbling house in Taipei; Pieter Laurens Mol’s caged brick fragment; and, slightly anomalously, a slice of early nineteenth-century romanticism, in the form of Piranesi’s wonderfully moody etchings of ruins.
Elsewhere, though, the tone changes, focusing more on obsessiveness and alienation – photographs of Gregor Schneider’s ominously reworked interiors, or Ciprian Muresan’s shopping trolley full of different editions of Kafka’s ‘The Castle’ –before suddenly taking a turn into parallel ideas about optics and measurement: a strand that both includes pieces in a rationalist, conceptualist-minimalist vein, as well as wackier stuff – more eyeballs, for instance, staring madly out from painted surfaces, by Thomas Grünfeld.
Throughout, there’s the sense of some overarching, complex thesis being attempted, but with too few works the exhibition never really coheres – best to just enjoy it, then, as an intriguingly quirky, occasionally captivating hodgepodge of individual pieces.