Ripples of complexity pervade this exhibition of Gabriel Orozco’s art. Several works reflect the artist’s preoccupation with geometric forms; diagrammatic shapes drawn over newspapers, and toothpaste spat onto graph paper to resemble molecular cell structures. A key work is Black Kites, a human skull painstakingly inscribed with a checkerboard design, suggesting a triumph of skill and reason over a symbol of death.

Frequently, moments of high seriousness and contemplation in this exhibition are counterpoised by trivial expressions. In a room displaying geometric studies from the Atomist Series, a ceiling fan spins around with pieces of toilet roll attached to its blades. In many cases artworks operate against each other, one set of meanings diminishing another. But Orozco is not oblivious to such contradictions. Numerous works concern games in which the objective is deliberately confounded. A chessboard without a king, a billiard table without any pockets; Orozco frustrates our pursuit of recognition. Chess with only knights is endlessly circular.

Seen another way, Orozco removes the central component of an object’s functionality in order to enhance its formal qualities. The billiard table without corners – a perfect oval – is a beautiful thing. The Citroen DS with its imploded body is bereft of its engine but is nevertheless slimmer, more streamlined than before, a perfectly symmetrical form.

However, I wonder if there is a certain arbitrariness underpinning Orozco’s practice. His series photographing yellow motorbikes that resemble his own was conceived simply as an ‘excuse to go outside’ and is needlessly repeated throughout the central room. In the same space, a lift (extracted from a demolished building in Chicago) is modified to match the artist’s own height. It is the kind of work where meaning fails to detonate and has been chosen, rather, in the formation of a certain spectacle. I noted several tourists being photographed inside the lift and this, to my mind, affirms the all-too-frequent accusation against major art galleries of being like theme parks.

For all the complexities in this show – and there are many – ostentatious pieces counteract the subtleties. Some of the artist’s most challenging work comes through his ongoing engagement with photography. Breath on Piano – which captures a fleeting mark – is an unassuming but oddly moving piece of work. I had the impression of great depths of meaning in many works from this series (as suggested by beguiling titles like Extension of Reflection) but sharing a room with the billiard table disadvantaged it. As was the case elsewhere, nuances were continually jolted and deflected, this time by the sound of crashing balls.

Until Apr 25

GEORGE NEWALL