For nearly thirty years, Etheridge has shot fashion, editorial, and what Gagosian calls “studio” photography, as though to avoid the association with “art”. Etheridge was a latecomer to the game of image semiotics. He nonetheless carved out a practice by mashing up symbols and registers. Meticulously styled product shots appear in his viewfinder as readily as candid pin-up girls. Coke bottles share colour spaces with touching family portraits. His folio is so eclectic that when a duck finds its way onto the studio’s infinity curve, nobody flaps a feather.

The success of these images relies on the active disavowal of context beyond their frames. But in this tiny pass-by display, Etheridge’s method finds an extreme. There isn’t enough information in the assembly for the mind to notice what it is not being given. The prints’ glossy richness reigns.