The National Gallery has abandoned the ornate frames and fusty wallpaper to plunge into the abstraction of modern and contemporary British Art. The purpose of the show is to ‘enable visitors to investigate how Riley’s work relates to the National Gallery collection.’

This presents a catch-22 situation. Riley’s work is visually and methodologically so distinct that to create a show around such an artist is a superfluous attempt to derive a linage from the great masters to this Dame of optical art. So, whilst the show is not fully reconciled by the weird allusions to Mantegna and Raphael, it is an intriguing effort and a clever, edited retrospective of Riley’s work once you put aside their attempt at lacklustre historiography.

What is exciting and notable here is the seismic shift that the National Gallery has ordained to take place in the Sunley room. This is a verdigris and burgundy free zone. Flock pattern is replaced by a taster menu of Riley’s most famous explorations of line and colour, with two works blown up and recreated directly onto the gallery walls, as well as the new Composition with Circles 7, which provides a welcome reprieve to the pandemic of art fatigue so prevalent when promenading the National Gallery.

This is a wonderful coup of a ‘pop-up’ show, but lacks the defined edges of most temporary exhibitions due to a distinct lack of information and interpretation by the institution. The drab catalogue and lack of writing on the walls is compensated for by the excellent footage captured of Riley at work in the documentary ‘shed’ adjacent to the exhibition. Go there first to stock up on meaning, and then experience the minimalist mecca of radiant anarchy at this ‘Temple of Art’.

Until May 22

RANBIR JHUTTY