There's hushed anticipation in Haunch's new Eastcastle Street space. At one o'clock a crowd gathers as a gallery assistant picks up a broom and begins to sweep tiny discs of paper into a neat pile. Another assistant appears, setting off what the handout exaggeratedly refers to as a 'confetti cannon'. With a bang, more discs are released into the air – they'll stay where they land until tomorrow's performance.
A daily occurrence during Katie Paterson's exhibition, this event is part of the '100 Billion Suns' project originally devised by the Scottish artist for the 2011 Venice Biennale. It is slightly more than the release of an arty party-popper. Paterson's blasts, we're told, are colour-coordinated microcosms of gamma-ray bursts – mass explosions witnessed in distant galaxies that if they were to occur in the Milky Way would wipe out life on earth. 'The Dying Star Letters' pursue a similar tactic of freighting the underwhelming with the unimaginable, each postcard and letter in the series – sent to the gallery from around the world – communicating matter-of-factly the death of a star.
There's a joke to be made here about the speed of the postal service, but Paterson doesn't go in for such things. Instead she ponders celestial and subatomic goings-on and their expression in very ordinary subjects with a sense of wonder that can yield surprisingly touching results. But not here, alas. With a preponderance of photographs of her Venice event (which appear like high-end souvenirs), this show fails to deliver poetry or inspire deep thought. As a showcase of Paterson's expansive art, it misfires.