Paul Insect's refined interpretations of visceral subject matter – Victorian graphics replaced by Dadaist collages fusing adolescence, aggression, and rough-around-more-than-just-the-edges pornography – are tempered by a joyous use of colour and an ambitious style. Equally, the images are provoking and provocative: dripping as much with sensitivity and gravitas as they are with sex and death. Moreover, they are a window onto the mind of the frustrated modern male: boiling over with unkempt aggression and sexuality, but yearning somehow for a higher moral purpose than the gradual accumulation of acceptance. Clowns crack and go on the rampage, kids in cowboy outfits contemplate the worth of their peers, and babies are contented to consider the consequences of the quantum age. As they do.