As time goes by, it’s the scale of Robin Collyer’s sculpture that seems contentious. His work is strangely “between size” in the conventional sense: too big to be anything other than awkward, yet too small to seem really ambitious. It tries hard—but not too hard—in realizing itself as a “presence” in the room. It’s as if the scale, treading between this little thing and that grand thing, incorporated a lazy yawn.

This lazy yawn is a masterful touch. Careless and indulgent, self-deprecating, even humble, it sets exactly the right mood for engaging Collyer’s subject matter, which extends to