Herein lies the ambiguity of Newton's photography: do these pictures monumentalise the female sex, or render us mere dolls of fetishistic fantasy? By the time you see his eerie series of shop window dummies mix-and-matched with real women, the answer should be clear. You find yourself looking for arm joints everywhere in order to identify the humans. Every woman has the wonderfully blank expression of "Georgette", his favourite plastic mannequin. In fact, these are the best works in the show. But Seventies feminists were spot-on when they concluded that blokes like Newton were secretly pining for a penis, not a woman. According to their (very Freudian) reading, these girls are hard, pink and shiny like a you know what. And nearly all of them brandish a corny phallic substitute, whether it be a cigar, truncheon, gun, or toy warship.