Market, a new artist-run space on the site of what was the Fly Gallery in Glasgow's east end, makes you think about the urban built environment even before you see the work in two related exhibitions. (Next door to Brown Field is Michael McGraw's engaging 60-second Interlude, which runs until April 14, and playfully explores issues of intervention and surveillance in urban landscapes.)
Occupying two tiny commercial spaces, Market is on Duke Street, a road linking the gentrified Merchant City and its lofts at one end with decrepit public housing scrawled with UVF graffiti at the other. In such a context, these exhibitions inevitably take on a deeper resonance than if they were at pristine galleries in the city centre.
At first sight, Katrine Hjelde's miniature paintings of follies look like bullet holes in the wall. Small discs are randomly placed from ground level to ceiling, each replicating a Classical building in the style of 17th-century European landscape painting. Her badge-like works remind us of the connection between capital and landscape in art - the money to build follies, the funds to commission paintings of them.
Franz Ackermann's Mental Maps, small-scale, obsessive paintings, like a deranged version of Klimt, focus on perception, what it might look like, and how we might chart it. Replacing geography with a personal mapping, he includes some stressful locations ("fucking malaria areas") and some soothing counterparts ("tiger balm museum").
Hayley Tompkins's watercolours are restful, limpid blues and mauves painted on pages torn from a lined exercise book. How they relate to each other is as important as how they relate to the scene these abstract works suggest. The same enigmatic quality haunts Laura Emsley's papier-mché Reef, an assortment of marine wonders, which also uses pages from a very mixed assortment of works (Paradise Lost, The Cat in the Hat Comes Back) as malleable material.
A final revelation comes in an untitled drawing by Don Van Vliet, an untrained artist prevented from attending art school by his parents. It's a fluid, expressive work with echoes of Japanese art, beautifully simple and - unless you know - without a hint that the artist is better known as Captain Beefheart.
Until April 28. Details: 0775 128 1620.
