When the history of late 20th century British art is written there will have to be a chapter called Fags or The Sublime. "When I finish a cigarette I think about death," said Damien Hirst, coming right to the point, which is what you wish Sarah Lucas would do in her ciggy-themed solo show.

Lucas once made a cast of her mouth with a fag hanging out. Stark, ugly and erotic, the cigarette spoke of sex and death. Now, however, she has reportedly given up smoking and uses the white tubes solely for art, proposing some alternative uses for the suicide stick. Why not use them to decorate a garden gnome? Lucas has even done self-portraits in cigarettes, and in case you forget she is the author of this show, she includes two big photos of herself.

Lucas once displayed a cigarette-wrapped motorbike helmet on a burnt-out armchair, an image that made you think of kids killed on motorbikes and their granddads going up in smoke - a desolate pulp fiction about sex, death and class. But this exhibition seems to be more concerned with high-art questions of authorship, originality and the nature of beauty.

There's a disconcerting prettiness to it all, as she takes the banal form of the cigarette and repeats it ad nauseam. The installation is funny, but without the fag ash, the cancer smoke, where is the poetry? A cigarette is perfect when taken out of the pack but it ends up a stinking stump. That image of mortality is missing from The Fag Show. Without it, the meanings that can be found in this work feel contrived and sterile.

The exhibition contains so many quotations from pop artists that it reads as a history of pop art. Iconic works, from Andy Warhol's cow wallpaper to the erotic 50s Hoover in Richard Hamilton's collage "Just What is it That Makes Today's Homes...", are directly borrowed - so obviously that it must mean something. All those male pop artists appropriated objects associated with women's work. I suppose Lucas has now taken revenge by appropriating them in turn.

I don't know where the garden gnomes fit in. I don't know where the viewer fits in either. "Selfish in bed", says the t-shirt Lucas is wearing in her portraits. And a drag in the gallery.

Until March 18. 0171-434 2227.

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