A white neon sign on the facade of White Cube read “slow fade to black.” The gallery name, one imagines, marks an ironic acknowledgment of Brian O’Doherty’s paradigmatic art space. But Cerith Wyn Evans’s cinematic instruction flips the expectations raised by the building squarely on their head: If it wasn’t dealing in dreams and fantasy so much as constructed realities before, it certainly is now. “Look at that picture . . . / How does it appear to you now? / Does it seem to be / Persisting?” is a series of five crystal chandeliers hanging together in the main gallery space. Inspired as it is

Ryan Gander seems to be something of a tease. His installation But it was all green, 2003, camouflaged STORE’s exterior windows by covering them with the type of reflective, translucent black plastic sheeting that usually connotes “sex shop.” The near-empty interior, however, would instantly have dashed the hopes of any visitor seeking reading matter of the one-handed variety. The floor was covered with plain black carpet, four speakers were placed in the gallery’s ceiling corners, and an antiquated but functioning flip-dot signboard was inset in the wall, an apparently random scattering of