Grace review – skin in the game

Years ago I saw a work by the British-Jamaican artist Donald Rodney that I have never forgotten. It was a house with dark shadows on the wall, composed of hospital X-rays. In front of it sat a faceless figure, little more than torn clothes, held up by a broken tree that rose like a spine - or a lynching - from the frayed collar of his shirt.

Scissors, words and hands appeared in pale silhouette against the X-rays, interpreting the past as a silent film. Rodney referred to his Black family tree, his childhood home. The house that Jack built ...