Robert Gober

In the American sculptor’s first New York solo show since his 2014 MOMA retrospective, an abundance of small works mine his familiar, if mysterious, themes. Barred windows and patches of forest (images that recall past installations) are nestled inside bare chests in a series of pencil drawings. Twenty wall-mounted assemblages are nursery-ready nods to Joseph Cornell, with green apples and blue robin’s eggs suspended against cloth diapers and floral-patterned wallpaper. Gober’s idiosyncratic lexicon, drawn, in part, from childhood memories, lends his work an eerie lyricism, whatever the medium or scale. The pathos of a little sunken cellar door near the start of the show—a foam-core-and-balsa-wood maquette for a sculpture first exhibited at the 2001 Venice Biennale—gives way to the near-mythic aura of its full-sized counterpart, which provides the show with its finale. (Marks; Through April 21.)