In Nevelson’s wall-reliefs and occasional sculptures, bits of wooden furniture — bedposts, skirting boards, chair-legs, banisters, doorknobs, carved decorative mouldings, those wavy bits of wood that your granny has around the top of her curtains — as well as rough wooden offcuts and the odd dustbin lid, are arranged in monumental Cubo-constructivist assemblages. They are often piled taller than human height and painted in a minimalist matt grey-black. The effect is tantalisingly ambiguous — exhilarating in its diagonals, yet ghostly and funereal in its palette.