With her latest show, Elizabeth Wright brought grunge into the London art world. Dismissing the theatricality of the gallery’s minimalist decor, she constructed an installation reminiscent of adolescent all-nighters, filled with bags of chips, phone calls, and beer: the gallery looked like an apartment inhabited by a group of teenage boys. Elongated designer beer cans, each with their signature label, were lined up against a wall like trophies. A desk at the other side of the room mingled a shrunken Yellow Pages with a scattering of snacks.

Precise in its construction, the work was playfully