Lambie's Ladders

Now that The Modern Institute has opened up a new gallery across from the Briggait, there are plenty of opportunities for me to nip across and be inspired by contemporary art - and get annoyed by its exegesis. Currently housing a collection of ladders by Jim Lambie, the new space is a classic, simple white box - suited to the stark minimalism of Lambie's latest.

Shaved Ice is a shift away from Lambie's more famous preoccupations with psychedelic floor patterns (his entry to Glasgow International 2010 covered the floor of GOMA with black and white lines that seemed fresh off a 1960s' album art) towards bright colours and mirrors. The ladders are all painted and contain mirrors between the steps. Deceptively simple, it plays a series of games with the location - the reflections are disorientating - and makes understated claims about the status of the art work itself. Perhaps in response to that cynicism about contemporary art, Lambie has installed a series of objects that literally lead nowhere and despite reaching to the ceiling, ultimately exist in mid-air, always on the point of departure.

A touch of random projection, and each ladder can take on its own personality. Do they represent political ideas, all shiny and new but finally meaningless? Are they reminders of the spiritual ascent - the mirror being a lovely Buddhist image of the consciousness - which allure but fail to do anything more than reflect? Or is it a direct reminder that appearances depend on perspective - at any point in the room, the ladders change the apparent dimensions of the room. 

For such a small space, this is a lively exhibition - if the notes don't add much to the meaning, it leaves more time to wander about the maze.