I finally managed to pay this exhibition a flying visit and found some pretty solid art. I got on with Robert Fry's Drawing Room series of self-portraits, impressions of him working with a model. This was my favourite, no. 7, the solid pale indigo sealing off the turbulent paintwork of the figures. It looks like psychoanalysis must feel - the discussion of personal issues with or through some other person, bound within a safe space. The sexual possibilities of the painting are also part of this world.
The spirit of Britannia past was conjured by a vitrine full of what appeared to be dead insects, suspended as if in flight. At closer inspection the miniature-macabre world of Tessa Farmer's Swarm reveals itself, playful and dread at a stroke.
There are a lot of canvases on show and I also liked the colourism of Luke Rudolf and the 3D Vorticist abstracts of Jaime Gili.
But the most striking work in the galleries is probably the one that's not there at all - the smell of Richard Wilson's oil installation 20:50 still lingers, even after having been gone for a couple of years now.