There’s an unfortunate ‘emerging artist’ vibe to this handful of readymade sculptures and not only because the show is part of a commercial “emerging artist” prize. Xenofontos replaced the gallery’s door with one salvaged from a mid-range 1980s Greek apartment building. Its lock is broken. In the vestibule, a fragment of an industrial ventilation system periodically spins up. It stops soon after. A stack of mass-market plastic garden chairs finds a home in the corner. They failed quality control. Two chains made of silver walking sticks hang from the high ceiling. They’re too weak to support anything. The titles of these works allude to class, industry, and royalty. But all this is nostalgia, and nothing’s a challenge.

A series of unassuming pieces based on the evacuation plans of civic buildings, presented separately in a darkened room, bring a dose of hazard which was missing thus far. Each is a constellation, quite literally, of LEDs that occasionally flash to reveal images of eyes and ears. But this is a put-on, one imagines, to capture the visitors’ faces. This non-consensual game of blind hide-and-seek cuts through the public domain more than Xenofontos’ wistful recollections in the rest of the show.