Massimo Vitali

Really, could a photographer have a better moniker? Vitali's name isn't quite the Italian for 'Maximum Vitality' but it's as near as dammit, which makes it rather disappointing that his large-format, God's-eye-view images are more about superiority than vitality. On a vast Mediterranean sandscape, tiny people stand frozen in blazing sunlight. There is drama in their poses, although there's more in the rock formations behind them or the incredibly turquoise sea in front.

Like Gregory Crewdson's photographs, these people-infused landscapes incite the imagination: looking at 'Sarakiniko Meltemi, Greece' (2011), you start by noticing that the couples in the water appear intimate while those on the rock all seem to be at odds. Soon, if you are that way inclined, you have a whole narrative going. There's nothing wrong with making the viewer work: Vitali makes his money as a fashion photographer, so it's probably a necessary novelty for him.

But Crewdson sets up his images: he invites us into a fictive world, and what we choose to do there is our own business. Vitali, however, stands on a scaffolding tower like Zeus with an Olympus, observing, formatting and capturing. He portrays people as miniscule, unimportant, and in this context, so they are: there is more personality in the pockmarked, parti-coloured rock in 'Firiplaka Red Yellow Diptych' (easily the best work in this small show) than in any of the titchy figures before it. Is Vitali celebrating nature, cutting humanity down to size, or both? And either way, these imposing but ineffably superior images beg the question: who died and left him in charge?