The title of Ugo Rondinone’s installation, Moonlight and Aspirin, 1997, was well—suited to his surreal, psychologically complex work. In one room of the gallery, the walls were almost entirely hidden by a palisade of rough fir boards, except in places here and there where small loudspeakers poked through, playing ’60s songs. A sheet of red glass covered the only window that could still be seen, which created a mysterious, claustrophobic atmosphere and precluded any unmediated contact with the outside world.

In the middle of another room, Rondinone installed a barren tree covered with brown